Narrowing In
Narrowing In
~*~A Tale of the [[Long_Patrol%25E2%2580%259D|Long Patrol]]~*~
Starring:
- Collin, a Long Patrol fighter
- Sidney, a Long Patrol Lieutenant
- Alpine, a Long Patrol fighter
- Torsten, a Long Patrol recruit
- Ava, a Long Patrol healer
Logger's Note: This story is a part of a continuing plotline. For the previous installment, click here. For the first, click here.
Badlands
It's taken a few days of subtle inquiries, scouting the coastal areas of the island, and a certain disruption courtesy of playful otters, but finally they're on to something. The vermin presence in the area is focused on a network of natural caves among the cliffs on the far coast of the island, and a ship of similar description was spotted by Spencer nearby. Without a certain identification by its name or banner, Sidney has chosen a discreet approach. With one hare still stationed at their encampment, the others have been divided into two groups - Collin with the Admiral (read: Lieutenant) to get in as close as possible as the sun is going down, while the others are posted nearby, at several intervals and levels among the overlooking cliffs, within view from afar and ready to step in if needed. With a strong, chilly wind coming off the water, the vermin are mostly within the caverns or hanging around various fires that, along with some modest encampments, are constructed immediately outside the main entrances that lead within the cave network. The ship is somewhat down the beach, anchored in the shallows well away from the closest rocks, cloaked in darkness and appearing unoccupied - at least on the deck. At a small fire, right nearby on the beach, a pair of guards stand huddled close to the flames for warmth.
As Sid reaches the beach, which doesn't have nearly enough sand to really be called such, he gestures for Collin to pause, glancing to the buck just behind them. They're roughly equidistant from the nearest cave entrance as from the slaver vessel, and after another glance toward the former, mindful of any of its occupants that might wander toward them, the lieutenant then fixes a squinting look over toward the ship. "We'll have to get a lot closer to know for sure," he murmurs to the other buck, "but maybe we'll get lucky."
Collin nods his understanding. One arm is over his shoulder, gripping his axe hilt should there be any sudden need of quick execution. He's keeping low and quiet, sticking close to Sidney. "Closah's fine," he offers with an upward twitch of his muzzle, his eyes glinting in the moonlight as he shifts them to the other buck's face. "Close'd be just fine with me," he confirms at a low murmur. He nods ahead for Sid to go on, he's following.
This is exactly why there's two of them, and not... eight. Or nine? Or however many underlings Sid has on this trip - the number seems a bit variable, depending on whether or not you choose to count the stowaway and/or Dagda's father. For purposes of approaching the could-be floating prison of Tyree and Corbeau, two is just right to avoid detection, but if they are detected, all of them wouldn't be enough to deal with the potential /very many scores/ of nearby vermin. For now Sidney stays right along the taller rocks that they've just descended from, not yet venturing out onto the comparatively flat beach. Even with the cover of nightfall, he moves in a somewhat ducked position, away from the caves and following the base of the cliffs in a route parallel to the shoreline. His approach is unhurried, and he's opted for bare feet instead of his usual boots, all the better for treading carefully and without any sound. When they reach a spot that's more or less directly across the beach from the ship, he pauses again, and shifts into a loose crouch, watching for a moment as one of the two guards by the little fire moves around a little. "I'd rather do this without being seen at all," he whispers to the private beside him, "but if that goes awry, we need to take them out fast. Fast and /silent/."
"Mm," Collin agrees dispassionately, his paw resting on Sidney's back as he peers past the officer to the grouping beyond. He nods. "Silent," he agrees. Also fast. He can handle that. His teeth flash in a brief smirk before he subsides into a more neutral expression, his ears perked and his eyes ever-scanning. "Figure Alpie'll be sad if we don't give 'im anyone t'play with, but he. He'll survive," he muses. And then subsides, with a brief nod again, that he's ready whenever.
Sidney presses his lips shut against the reflex to chuckle. Instead they curve, suggesting the same amusement in a silent capacity, as he gives Collin a sidelong look. "'m sure he'll get more than his share, before we're off this island." He quiets, eyes turning back to the ship, and waits while it appears that one of the guarding vermin is walking away - potentially one less to avoid the notice of.
Aw. Collin observes with a small frown. One less to play with! Ah, well. He stifles a sigh, crouching down low as he waits. Just waits. "Well, that'll work out. See, I stand in as his extra eye 'n' he stands in as my... giant." Because everyone is lacking a giant. They really are.
"Hello, friends," Alpine's gruff, quiet voice sounds behind them. He's been loping slowly on all fours, making sure to keep his giant-ness from being spotted. The large buck has slicks of mud under his eyes and his uniform has been coated in a fine dust of cliff-dirt red. He crawls closer, stopping and planting his butt on the ground, his arms still planted firmly in front of him like a dog coming with a morning paper. "I have news." He sounds a little proud of himself and his tail even bobs back and forth twice.
The second guard is going, going... no. He stops, some ten or so feet beyond the small radius of firelight. Sid's whiskers twitch, a mild expression of annoyance, as the vermin he's focused his gaze on now goes through particular motions that can only be taking a piss. That means he'll be coming back, so for the moment the buck is unmoving, waiting for the two guards to be in close proximity again. In the meantime he murmurs back to Collin, "With Al around, suddenly I understand why Darcy's friends with that oversized..." He lets himself trail off, head jerking up and around at the unexpected voice from behind. Still crouched, he stretches one hand down, bracing it against the sand-and-rocks ground, and brings the other up in a gesture for caution and quiet - not that it's necessary. Alpine, like Collin, has the experience to know that kind of thing innately. "Go ahead," he whispers in reply.
At the familiar voice, Collin twists his head about to grin at Alpine, at which point his grin splits wider. Oh, Alpie. He shakes his head in amusement at the other buck, reaching out to grip his shoulder and give it a little shake in greeting. "'Ey," he murmurs, and then subsides for the larger buck to deliver his report.
Alpine wobbles, a bit unsteadily, and smiles back at Collin as he's shaken. "Shh," he agrees with Sidney and reflects the idea by putting a paw to his lips. "There is another ship, looks similar. Likely more vermin incoming on the beach." Alpine rocks back a little and keeps his towering ears down. He cocks his eye at the pair and then glances beyond them. "Orders?"
The moderate smile Sid wore during the quiet exchange with Collin drops right off, and his lips press into a hard, straight line. He nods once, a firm acknowledgement, then looks off toward the ship and the shore. For a moment he's quiet, letting the two other bucks wait. Processing, analyzing. "Al," he decides, "you're sticking with us. Which way is she coming from?"
Collin takes in this particular news with a glance towards the shore, though true enough to Alpine coming down to warn them, they have no view of it yet.
Alpine nods curtly. "Aye Sah. They're headin' from the east, sir. It's close. Might be the one we're looking for." He crouches down a little more, eye squinting up to see if he can spy it yet. "Should come 'round the cliffs any moment, accounting for the time it took for me to get to you."
Two ships that /could/ be their target, but neither yet identified as such. Sid's jaw tenses a little in frustration, and he looks east - the direction of the caves. "Alright, to hell with it. We don't have time to creep around - but still fast, boys. Fast and quiet." He extends his arm in a gesture toward the two figures nearby the anchored ship. "Al, take them out. Collin," his arm shifts, indicating slightly further to one side, a position that will put the incoming vessel in view when it gets close. "Eyes on the new one. I'm going aboard, and you'd best be ready to climb on, soon as I get her moving."
Alpine glances to Collin, then Sid, and nods again. "Aye, Sah," he repeats dutifully and turns to skirt around a patch of hedge of wild sage brush, taking his knife out and creeping along. The buck is quick as a flash and quiet, too. He leaps out near them and clocks one in the head with a ham of a paw and the other gets a hilt-first jab to the stomach. The vermin drops and Alpine delivers a downwards kick that knocks him out, the other already out cold. He crouches over the two unconscious bodies, motioning with a paw in the air incase Sidney or Collin are waiting.
It's possibly a kinder treatment than they would have received at Collin's hand, but it certainly does the job. Collin watches the easy handling of the situation and, with a short nod to Sidney at receiving his orders, he eases forward, staying low to the ground as much as the tall buck can. When he reaches the specified position, he hunkers down in what cover he can, drawing his axe and resting its head in the gravely sand. He raises a paw also, in signal that he's in place.
Sidney rises a little from the crouch, just enough to get moving again. He heads toward the ship in a bit of curve, coming from the opposite side that he directed Collin to - head and shoulders kept low, ears upright and alert. He watches the huge buck head toward the two guards, hand at the hilt of his sword, then lets it fall away as he observes Alpine's effective attack with a grim smile. Just at the point where he's about to step out of direct view of Collin, he pauses briefly, waiting for him to get in place. In those few seconds, he uses a low, 'Psst!' to get Alpine's attention, then gestures at the fire - first a point, then a flat cut of his hand. Put it out.
It's hard to see with one eye. Something the buck has had to get used to. Alpine crouches by the limp vermin bodies, punching one as it starts to sort of stir faster than anticipated. He turns his head and watches Sid like a raven figuring out a complex puzzle. Gears turn... and turn... and oh! Alpine leaps forward, rushing for the fire and kicking a wave of dirt on it, quelching most of the flames. Then her rounds it and bends low, turning to dig and spray the rest. Small whisps of smoke leak out of breaks in the dirt, but it doesn't sizzle or smoke enough to cause a ruckus.
Collin isn't overly fond of Sidney stepping out of his view, and he eeeases to the side without really moving, trying to keep his commanding officer in view as long as possible. His eyes glance to the side and back at Alpine, watching him squelch the fire. He flashes him a silent grin in the dark.
With the fire extinguished, the whole area is plunged into darkness, which does little for their view of each other. For a moment Sid squints into the near-black, with only the distant fires near the caves and a thin sliver of low-hung moon providing a faint glow. Confident that the two other bucks will stay close, he heads toward the edge of the beach, unbuckling the sword from his belt just as he wades in. It's held above the surface of the water as he sloshes toward the ship, which is anchored closeby in the shallows, owing to the rather flat design of the hull's underside. He gets about waist-deep to reach it, and hauls himself up and over the side, onto the deck - then sets about quickly raising the anchor and loosing the sails. "Collin," he calls in a stage-whisper, "see anything?"
Man, there are going to be some pissed off slavers on this island whenever they realize that suddenly one of their ships are missing. The patrollers have circled around to a pre-arranged rendezvous point, those on the ship, hopefully to join the other half of the patrol still on land. When they come close enough to shore, Collin is the one who helps to lower the anchor once the sails have been secured - mostly by Sidney, the only one of the three of them who has /any/ idea what they're doing on a ship. The dinghy is lowered over the side and the three row back to the shore, Collin jumping out at the last to shove it up onto dry sand.
Looks like the landlubber patrol didn't get waylaid or ambushed at all! This spot of geography is downright peaceful. Hanging back and mostly in the space behind more experienced hares, Torsten keeps himself out of the way until he's called upon, keeping his ears up for that moment. But really, there's no imminent danger, and Torsten is thus standing around, ready to be useful instead of... Potentially useful.
Waiting on the shoreline is Ava with her bow in hand and an arrow already notched. As she waits for the dinghy to arrive to shore, she continues to scan the waters to ensure they are not about to be surprised. Once they reach land, she gives a nod of her head to the three, followed by a low whistle.
While the other two wait in the dinghy with intentions of heading back out, Collin comes forward to meet the others on the beach, with a satisfied grin. Capturing a whole ship, not bad for a night's work. "... Well it /ain't/ the right ship," he admits. "But it's definitely a slavah vessel. We need a coupla extra paws t'search it. Ava, we need you... 'n' /Tory/, you've been outta my sight for too long. C'mon." To the rest, he gestures 'round the shore line. "Fan out 'n' keep a watch. Report back 'n' give a signal if you seen /anything/ approachin' while we're gone."
Torsten's ears perk up even higher when he hears his name. Wait, what? "...Right," he responds, stepping forward and heading to the dinghy. He's actually being asked to do something of substance. Butterflies flutter around his stomach, but he mostly keeps his cool as he climbs into the small boat, careful not to step too heavily, even as Alpine's weight inside it would most definitely counteract anything he could possibly do.
"Gladly." Ava says as she slips her arrow back into her quill, then lumbers for the small boat, then climbs inside with a quick hop. She eases herself near the back as she settles into a seated position. "We killing on sight if we find anyone or we looking to take prisoner and use for bargaining?"
Collin's muzzle twists in a smirk at the question, and Sidney seems to deem it safe to allow the macabre buck to answer. Possibly a mistake. That's okay. "I'd /love/ t'kill 'em on sight. Alpine got t'take out the othah two. But we ought t'question 'em," he allows with a disappointed shrug. He's already wet, so he takes the task of shoving the dinghy back out into the water, before hopping back in himself, allowing the others to take on the rowing.
Torsten grabs an oar and digs it into the water before realizing he doesn't know the first thing about rowing. So, of course, he watches Sidney, trying to emulate what he's doing, digging the oar in and leaning into his strokes. "There're still slavers on board?" he asks, sounding a little surprised at this.
Taking an oar as well, Ava pumps it into the water, looking to row in time with her companions. "If there is any hiding on there while you had command of the vessel must mean they're really good at hiding or too stupid to take the ship back proper."
Collin shrugs and shakes his head. "I don't think so. A few came from below decks when we boarded, 'n' were dispatched or tossed ovahboard. If there's anymore, they're /real/ good at hide 'n'-" But he stops short, when Ava echoes his words. He flashes her a grin, waiting while Sidney stands up and secures the dinghy when they reach the ship. Collin helps to raise the dinghy, with the lovely pulley system, Alpie pulling on the other rope in time so they rise evenly. The ropes are secured off when they're even with the deck, and Collin hops off first, drawing his cutlass in an abundance of caution.
Drawing his own cutlass when Collin does, Torsten carefully steps out of the dinghy, looking down at the sea below as he does so, and giving himself an extra little hop-skip to make sure he makes it over. "If they were smart, they wouldn'tah ended up slavers," Torsten points out, taking an abundance of caution that doesn't totally seem like an abundance to him.
Making the leap over on to the ship, Ava draws an arrow and slips it into place as she gets her bearings and does a quick survey of the area. "Torry, you coming with me? I'm a distance fighter so I will need someone at my side when we go down under to investigate."
Collin rests the dull side of his axe against his shoulder as Sidney and Alpine head off to investigate the cabin/captain's quarters, with orders for the others to investigate below. He turns to Ava and Tory, with a grin. "Guess that means we're headin' down." He heads for the access leading below decks, and tugs it open with a squint downward into the somewhat lantern-lit dark. "Wanna draw straws on whose first?" he jokes.
"Yeah, I can do that," Tory responds to Ava, taking that lead by following her as she follows Collin, only for the three of them to stop short of going down. He peeks down the dark hole, his ears pinning back in reflex. When Collin jokes, Tory misses it completely, looking between the two superiors like he's half expecting them to make him go.
"I'll go." Ava says as she strides past the two of them, shifting her bow upwards and pulling the arrow back between a pair of fingers as she heads down the staircase first. "Torry, you're in the middle. Collin, take the rear. That way we can protect him from both sides if everything goes sideways."
This seems to satisfy Collin, who is not necessarily the gallant 'die first' type. He dips his head in agreement and gestures for Tory to go ahead of him before heading down after Ava, a pair of steep wooden steps leading to the first deck below, into the main section, a fairly spacious and open area, leading off to some smaller rooms with another set of stairs leading lower into the hull of the ship. The blunt side of his axe rests briefly on the back of Tory's shoulder. "Whatevah you do, don't panic 'n' try t'run. Your back's way easiah t'stab." So comforting.
Torsten's tongue licks over dry lips. "Right," he responds, heading down behind Ava and in front of Collin. At the nudge from the hare behind him, he turns his head, listening intently like it's life or death advice. "Uh-huh," he responds, quietly, filing that tidbit away. Well, so far, so good. Nobody here. Good work everyone.
"Also, don't run ahead of me either. I'd hate to shoot you in the back when I'm trying to draw on an enemy. Jinora has that problem. Sees a bad guy and gets a rush and starts blindly waving her sword and running full tilt. Combat should have strategy, especially when we work as a team." Ava says as she tracks left to right with her bow once they reach the bottom, stepping lightly, then lowers her voice. "Let's keep noise down to a minimum."
Collin's eyes shift to the ceiling in a tolerant smirk. Man, the banter is the /best part/. Ah well. He subsides as Ava leads the way, using his paw to pat Tory reassuringly on the shoulder once before he draws his second axe, keeping himself well-equipped. He walks somewhat sideways, so that he can keep an eye ahead and behind. They're headed down the last corridor of the first level, approaching the access stairs to the deck below, when a side door suddenly swings open into the corridor, blocking their view of what or who is beyond it. There are a couple of low voices, conversing, presumably, about the slimy, useless hares who have taken over the ship. "... slit their /throats/," can be heard in a growl.
Torsten's crouching ever so slightly as he creeps along the corridors, keeping as silent as he can as he makes his way, bookended by Collin and Ava, through the darkness. His ears flicker and he swallows around the lump that suddenly finds its way right there in the front of his neck somewhere. When that door flies open, he halts completely, taking a sharp breath and holding it.
Ava give a pause, then glances over her shoulder to Collin and Torry. She makes a motion with her hand, then slowly steps to the side as she draws the arrow back. She peeks around carefully, then takes aim at the far wall and off to the side a bit from the door. A distraction in the darkness. She looks to meet the eyes of Collin first, giving him a nod before releasing. The arrow sails through the darkness, striking the far wall with a loud thud, hoping to draw them out so they can sneak upon them proper.
The distraction seems to work, because there's a series of loud cursing and the sounds of blades being drawn as they move towards the sound. Collin nods to Ava, giving the signal with a raised axe that he's ready when she is. He comes up /beside/ Tory, squeezing in beside him in the corridor so that the recruit's not the first thing they come to after Ava. It's safe to say the danger is no longer behind them. His lips purse in a silent 'shhh'.
Torsten turns to the side to allow Collin forward when he makes his intentions known to do so. He still has his cutlass at the ready, swallowing hard again as he prepares himself for combat, waiting for the signal to do... Anything at all, really, from Ava. He looks to the side at Collin, again briefly, before focusing forward.
Moving forward, Ava waits, counts the steps, then pushes forward on the door to close it with her foot as another arrow is notched into the bow. With the enemy in front now moving towards the last arrow, she takes aim at one of the retreating vermin, letting her weapon fly through the air with a zip as she looks to tag one in the back of the leg. Her head gives a jerk forward to Collin, giving him the signal. Last guy is yours.
The area beyond the corridor, where the vermin now are, opens up to allow for maneuverability. The arrow /does/ catch the weasel in the back of the leg, high up just above the knee. He lets out a holler in the small space, dropping to the ground as he reaches back to grab the arrow, while the other vermin, a surprisingly hulking rat, turns to face them, eyes glittering in the dark. He bares his feral teeth and launches forward, just as Collin comes forward to meet him, swinging his axe sidearm to account for the low ceiling. It lodges in his side. Clearly Collin's logic here is they only need /one/ to question. The axe catches on the rat's ribs and he yanks on it with a growl as the rat draws a dagger, stabbing at him which he blocks with the handle of his other axe. Meanwhile, from that (presumed) safe behind, a third vermin, a ferret, is stalking up behind Torsten, with a short lash. He brings it down across the buck's back and neck. Slavers, after all.
Torsten is fairly occupied with his watching of Collin rush forward at the rather large rat and start dealing with him without much of a problem. A breath that he feels like he'd been holding since that door swung open is released from him, and he untenses his shoulders, right as the lash comes down and strikes him. "Agh!" the recruit shouts and stumbles forward in surprise, spinning around and holding his cutlass out to defend himself, his body hunched up tight in a defensive reflex to make himself a smaller target.
"Stay down." Ava says as another arrow is already notched and fired, looking to sink into the shoulder of the arm that is reaching out for the arrow in his leg. "Stay down and consider yourself lucky." When she hears Torry's voice, she whips herself around, reaching behind her to pull another arrow. "Defend yourself!" She calls out to the younger buck.
Sidney wouldn't have left Collin in charge of the belowdecks investigation if he weren't confident in the other buck's ability, but the clear sound of a scuffle nonetheless draws him out of the little cabin on the top deck. He descends below, pausing on the steps with what looks like some kind of very scuffed up ledger in one hand, and the other resting on the hilt of his sabre. It appears that the other three have everything well in hand, with the possible exception of Torsten, but rather than crossing the short distance to finish off the stowaway recruit's attacker, Sid remains where he is, watching with a guarded, but vaguely smiling look. The sabre is slid from its sheath and held at the ready at his side. "You got this, kid." His expression hardens slightly as he looks past Torsten, to Ava and Collin. Hm.
He had best, because Collin has his arms full just at the moment. He finally dislodges his axe from the rat's side, staggering back a step with the force of the release, and then again as the rat leaps on him. They both fall to the ground, the two large beasts rolling on the dirty floor. Collin lets out a short, pained growl - possibly an injury - and then there's another sound, a strangled sound. From the rat, this time, and then sound of Collin shoving him off as the rat thumps lifeless to the side.
The ferret bears his sharp, yellowed teeth at the young recruit as he staggers and turns to face him, and the cutlass is eyed with contempt. The lash rains down again, this time to whip 'round the buck's wrist, and pull.
Oh no no-- wait. The ferret is playing right into Torsten's training! Something clicks in his head, and when the lash comes down, even in the dark, he can see the tendency of the blow and where it's headed, strafing off to the side and thumping his back against the corridor wall, and he swings his arm back around in the direction it came from to counterattack with a slash right to the middle of the ferret's outstretched arm.
The hack doesn't quite take off the arm, but it /does/ cut clear to the bone, and suddenly they have a screeching and bleeding ferret on their hands. He drops the lash, clamping a paw over the profusely bleeding limb as he backs to a wall and slides down, his feet scrabbling against the wall in an attempt to push himself further and further away. No one ever claimed slavers were smart. Collin rises to his feet, a paw clamped over a shallow gash low on his side. "/Tory/. You all righ', kid?"
Making her way towards the ferret she downed with her arrows, Ava stares down at him with a narrow of her eyes. "Don't move or you will bleed out." She says as she squints at him. "Though I should, unfortunately we need you alive a bit longer to answer some questions for us. If they're the right questions, you most likely will be let go in a place of our choosing." She grabs him by the shirt and hauls him to his feet, then slams him against the wall as she looks over to the others to ensure business is handled.
Torsten isn't about to stop there. Following through with that first strike, he steps forward, giving chase to the fallen slaver and swiping diagonally with the edge of his cutlass, carving a harsh red line across his shoulder and chest with the blade, an inch or so in at its deepest. He strikes hard, too, a growl coming from his throat as he slashes at the slaver.
After the rather impressive near-amputation on the part of Torsten, Sid descends the last few steps. The flailing, bleeding ferret shuffles himself along the wall right toward him - temptingly close, but the lieutenant controls the impulse to finish him off, and instead gives the recruit a firm, approving nod. "End him," he says simply.
Well, that would seem to be answer enough. Collin steps forward, but he too leaves Torsten to finish off the ferret, grimacing slightly as he puts away his bloodied axes. They'll get a cleaning later. He turns, glacning Ava's way to confirm she's got the one vermin under control, for questioning. "'Ey, Lt.. Find anything above?" he wonders.
Torsten comes back on the backswing, then thrusts right through the center of the slaver's chest with his cutlass's point when Sid orders him to kill him. Before he even knows what he's doing besides following orders, the recruits pierces the ferret through, leaving him lifeless in seconds. He pulls his cutlass back and lets it hang in his grasp, eyes fixed on the dead ferret.
"Nicely done," comes Sid's simple, though genuine praise. He grips the fresh corpse by the back of the shirt, jerking the hob to the side and dumping him out of the way of the stairs. After a attentive glance around, he gives Collin a nod. "A good bit, aye. None of these though." He indicates the vermin with a smirk. "Should be a cargo hold, did you get a look in there yet?"
Collin shakes his head, pressing his paw once more to his side as he turns, nodding towards the access. "We were headin' that way when we ran int' these two." He eases over to Tory, then, touching his free paw lightly to his back where he was struck. "Y'okay?"
Torsten's head shakes and he looks away from the dead ferret, shaking his cutlass to let droplets of blood splatter on the floor beneath him. He's attentive to Sidney, up until he's addressed by Collin. "I'm alright," he responds, though his back arches forward away from the touch. "He just got a good one on me with that whip." It broke fur on the back of his neck, blood dribbling down beneath the back of his collar. He gazes down to where Collin's grabbing at his side. "Are you?"
Collin's eyes stay on that cut, with a flash of concern on his face. "Just a shallow cut," he promises with a shake of his head. The buck glances down, tilting his paw away from the cut to get a brief look. He's had much worse, and recently! "Headin' down, Lt.?" he asks Sidney, with a glance.
"Alright, looks like there aren't any others on this level," Sid says, after stepping over the second carcass to quickly conduct a closer look around. He sheathes his sabre and glances at the book in his hand, then over toward the hatch that leads into the cargo hold. "After you. Stay alert - it'll be dark."
Torsten's eyes go down to the cut when it's uncovered, and... Yeah, that actually doesn't look all that bad. He turns his head back to the lieutenant and, with the recommendation that he stays alert, keeps his cutlass out. That's pretty alert, right? He looks at the ferret again, lifting his head in half a nod, lips parted as he takes a breath in, lowering to finish the nod as he sighs it out, following behind Collin as the three head to the cargo hold.
Ooh, Collin gets to go first. His white teeth flash briefly in the dark and puts his feet to the ladder, ascending downwards. He squints in the dark, moving quickly so he's not at a disadvantage for too long, jumping down the last few steps with a thump. He side-steps, to clear the way for the two above and draws his axe again, peering into the darkness. There's a sound down here. The sound is... breathing. And a groan here, a quiet sniffle there. Collin's fur stands on end as he comes forward to - bars. He stops short, reaching out to the touch the cool metal. He knows what this is, of course.
The light from the middle level above them is enough to provide some meager illumination to the closest part of the cargo hold, and as Sid steps down, taking up the rear, he takes a moment to locate a hanging lantern. There's a hiss as he gets it lit, closing the glass panel and taking it up in his hand. He steps up alongside Collin, holding it high to cast light around the cargo hold. Most of it is lined with cages to each side, with an aisle down the middle - each roughly a cube, with three-foot dimensions. Large enough for a seated adult to have a little room to reposition, and that's about it. Five of them are occupied.
Torsten follows Collin and drops down to his feet, his eyes narrowing in the darkness as he tries to make out his surroundings, standing still and not venturing forward like Collin does. He hears the pitiful sounds all around him, and when Sid lights up the lantern, he can see exactly where he is, and he sheathes his cutlass once he does. A somber look crosses his features as he scans the cages, trying not to, you know. Stare at the occupied ones.
Collin's jaw sets in an angry line. He's not sheathing his weapon. Instead, he walks to the nearest door, jiggles the lot briefly, and then steps back, swinging the axe down in a hard arc. It smashes into the old lock, and breaks it open. He yanks at the broken thing, pulling it free so that he can pull it open. "Up. /Up/. Out," he calls to the occupant. A young squirrel, little younger than Torsten. "You're free. /C'mon/, out."
Knowing what to expect, and having seen it before, doesn't make this any easier for Sidney. He makes an effort to moderate his outward reaction, but it shows in his face - the light casting bright highlights and deep shadows across an expression that quickly goes dark and turns hard. With a tense jaw he jerks his hand in a gesture for Collin to take care of the other occupied cages; the axe is faster than finding a key. "Torsten? Fresh water - I saw bottles upstairs." He steps past Collin to shine the lantern directly on the line of slaves, as slowly the squirrel is roused, blinking with confusion. The next is a vixen, not even quite a teen yet.
Torsten gets a good look at all of the slaves, each of them young, his age or younger. His eyes dip down to the floor, and Sidney finally gives him an excuse to leave. "Yessah," Torsten confirms, quietly, climbing back up the ladder to locate the water.
Collin doesn't need to be told. He leaves the squirrel behind, casting off the locks with well-aimed strikes of his axe. His eyes flicker to the vixen in the cage, and quickly away as he moves beyond to the others. "... Bugger," he mutters under his breath as the last lock is broken, and turns to lean against the wall, resting the head of his axe head on the floor.
Between the light and the loud clang of the locks being broken, which ricochets back off the walls of the hold, the slaves come awake, looking over at each other and then up at the uniformed hares. Their expressions are a mixture of automatic fear, then disbelief, and finally excitement. The first squirrel, likely the most recently caught, is the most likely, quickly standing and pushing open the front of his cage. "... who /are/ you?"
The last, in the corner, is also the smallest - a cat of maybe four seasons, curled up with her shabby tail covering her face. Sid stands back as that lock is struck, then closer again, knocking his knuckles against the ceiling-bars when the girl doesn't wake as soon as the others. "Hey?" he ventures, and gets no reaction, so he crouches, pulling the barred door open and ducking his head, knee-crawling the few feet into the cage.
At the question, Collin's eyes shift to Sidney. But the buck's occupied, and not answering. His muzzle presses tightly together, not /wanting/ to deal with these creatures, but in the end his eyes cut aside and he answers the squirrel. "Long Patrol. We're here t'help. You're free."
The squirrel's mouth trembles, and suddenly he's crying, skinny shoulders jerking a few times. And, just like that, he steps forward to wrap his arms around Collin, squeezing him tightly with the force of his gratitude.
Sidney eases himself down, feet tucked under, and reaches to stir the little cat. There's a flicker of ears, so slight that he isn't even sure of it. The lieutenant glances to Collin, opens his mouth to say something, then pauses - kind of struck by the sight of the abrasive buck being embraced.
Nngh. Collin almost flinches back, and he /does/ flinch a little as the squeeze draws a short grunt of pain as the knife wound is pressed. He remains stiff for a moment, his eyes casting uncertainly about, before one arm eases up uncertainly to rest on the squirrel's back. "... 'Ey. Um. S'okay. We've got someone comin' with watah, 'n' we've got food." Pause. "Food's /awful/, but... it's food." He glances Sidney's way, eyes catching on the other buck's momentarily, before they shift awkwardly away. Ugh. He eases back, then, and nods upward. "Go on. Get up t'the deck. There's more folks'll help you."
Torsten's feet can be heard above, and he calls down. "I got the watah, want me to pass it down?"
Sidney clears his throat, which helps to encourage the squirrel to release Collin and step back. "Will you.. help the others? Reckon they could use a bit of fresh air to go with the rest." He manages to keep his voice very steady, giving Collin a deliberate look - then casting his eyes subtly but pointedly at the cat, as he slides his arms around her skinny for to gather her into his lap and against his chest.
Collin grits his teeth and nods at Sidney's request, his eyes casting up to the water that Torsten now extends downward. He walks over to snag it, just as the squirel starts upward, and walks back to the cages. He tugs open one of the doors and holds it open, peering inside. Small mouse, covered in whip marks. He grimaces, leaning in to offer his paw, which is taken, to ease her out. He holds out one of the glass bottles of water, and nods for her to head upstairs. Which she does, with a furtive glance around. He moves on to the next and the next, finally making his way back to the last, the one he has no /desire/ to go near. The vixen. He tugs the cage door open and grunts. "Oy, c'mon. Out with ya," he calls gruffly.
As the other slaves are coaxed out and guided up from the cargo hold, and Sid gently tries to wake the listless feline, the vixen remains, clinging to the bars on one side of her cage and staring through the now-empty ones beside her, toward the corner where the lieutenant tends the cat. At Collin's words, she flinches and recoils, raising one arm in front of her face - the reflex of a slave accustomed to being struck. After a moment she lowers it a little, staring at him. "... 's she 'kay? Gwen?"
At the way she flinches, Collin does, too. Visibly. He jerks back a step, clearing the doorway, and turns to look at Sidney and the little cat. He shakes his head. Throws his shoulders upward. "Dunno. I dunno. Sid?" he asks.
The vixen is, herself, so thin that her yellow eyes appear far too large in her face, and she looks up at Collin, plaintively, then stares back toward Sidney and her friend. Sid glances to Collin with a subtle jerk of his muzzle, jostling the cat who's now sprawled and virtually motionless in the circle of his arms. "C'mon," he mutters, "open your eyes..."
"Gwen?" the vixen tries, her voice rising a little in pitch. "/Gwen/..."
Collin moves around to the cat's cage, then, with one of those bottles of water. He eases in, crouching low and thrusting it out to Sidney. "/Here/," he suggests urgently.
The urgency in Collin's voice is punctuated by an upset whine from the vixen. Sid flattens his ears, as if trying to tune it out, and wordlessly takes the bottle. Uncorking it with his teeth, he splashes a little onto his hand, bathing the cat's face. It causes her lips and whiskers to stir, just barely, but the response doesn't improve when he does it a second and third time. "Damn," the buck hisses, and positions her head back a little, holding the bottle to her mouth to dribble some in. Most of it just trickles down her chin.
Once his task is done, Collin backs away again. He backs until he finds the wall, his paws pressing to its rough surface. His eyes dart briefly to the vixen and then away again, not looking at any of them as his eyes settle to the ground, his ears flattened.
Sidney's lips move, but if he's even making a sound, it's not audible once Collin retreats a few steps beyond the cage. Again he jostles the limp form, which causes her head to roll back, unkempt tail flaccid across his knee. "Wake up," he mutters, then again, more firmly, "/wake/. /Up/." The buck taps her cheek lightly, then a little harder, and finally there's a faint, scratchy sound from the cat-child, and her eyes just barely crack open.
From Collin, there is no noise. His eyes turn upward to the access, and from the look of him he's strongly considering escaping. But not without Sidney's leave. "... Sah. I ought t'go up 'n' help above," he suggests quietly, tensely.
If Sid even hears him, there's no sign of it. His expression relaxed, and he summons a gentle smile for the cat, petting back her hair from her damp brow. She's not even feverish - quite the opposite. Chilled. "Welcome back," he murmurs, and those foggy golden eyes blink up at Sid's face. She raises her hand, slowly, with great effort, as if to touch his cheek. "It's you..." She's not seeing him, and the hazy smile is for someone or something else. Sid's throat tightens, as that awareness sets in, and he tightens his grip as if to physically keep her there, for all the good that could possibly do. Her head rolls loosely to the side, eyes falling nearly shut, and her hand drops. The buck cradles her, throat clenched up, eyes pressing tightly shut and muzzle bowed so his nose touches her matted hair.
Collin may not want to be, but he is. He's watching. And when he hears that tiny voice, and then sees that arm fall away, lifeless, he turns and makes for the stairs without even glancing at the vixen, or awaiting Sid's leave. His paws find their handholds and he starts up, his jaw tight as he ascends without a backward glance.
It's probably for the best. Somewhere in the long moments following, with the low cries of the distraught vixen reaching him as if from far away, Sid does nothing but hold her and rock very slightly side to side, making faint, breathy sounds of comfort for the departed cat, while a few wayward tears leak into her hair.
Time Passes…
Down below the ship is Ava, who is currently working with her sword. Her jacket is removed to reveal a thin, sweat covered shirt beneath it, clinging to her body. She moves back and forth in the dark with a few lanterns set up, striking and swiping as she moves from foot to foot.
Meanwhile, Collin has been avoiding belowdecks on this particular ship. It was kind of a mood killer last time, after all. They've still got a couple of the slaves hanging about, being nursed back to health, but at least most of them have moved on. The buck finds himself ordered below to work on an inventory of supplies on the ship. It brings him down to the area Ava's in, and he stops halfway down the steps, a paw loosely held to his sore side. It was a shallow cut, but sometimes those just /sting/ the worst, you know? Like a paper cut. He sits on the step and watches her a moment, arching a brow.
End over end Ava's sword dances through the lantern light, gleaming with the surface of polished steel. Having spent all night watching over the prisoner, followed by her chat in regards to her skill-set, she had much needed energy to burn off. As she hears the creaks of the steps from above, she gives a pause and turns around to face Collin. Sliding her blade into her sheathe, she gives him a nod. "Hey." She breathes out to him. "What's up?"
"Who ya killin'?" Collin wonders, without strictly answering her question. His muzzle twists slightly, a glint of amusement in his eye. He leans back, one leg stretching out, the boot resting at an angle on the last step.
"Shadows. Just practicing. I was told to not get rusty with the blade or too dependent on the bow so I am just working out, trying to see what I need to improve upon." Ava says as she leans over to retie her boot a bit tighter than it is. "What are you up to?"
Ahh. Collin's muzzle dips in brief understanding. "... Well. Nevah a bad plan," the large buck admits with a shrug. He stands up and crosses the room, crouching by a barrel. He raps on its side. It's not hallow, so that's hopeful. He smirks to himself, obviously placing hopes on the contents. "I was told t'take stock of the ship. Found anything interestin'?" he wonders.
"No, not down here at least. Slaver ship does not carry much in the way of interesting stuff. At least pirates collect booty. These guys just collect bodies." Ava says as she picks up her small hand rag and wipes her face and chest off with it. "Found two lanterns. I suppose that is something." She motions to the glow.
The barrel he inspects already has a spigot installed. Probably one of the crew's drinking supplies. He gives the spigot the slightest turn and touches the tip of his finger to the bead of liquid that eeks out, then tastes it. His muzzle curves upward. "Well, more'n just a lantern. Leave it to vermin t'have a ready supply o' drink." He shakes his head, snorts. "S'pose the inventory'll be short, at least." He turns, putting a knee to the floor. "Well, don't let /me/ interrupt."
"Ah, it is not a big deal. Hard to practice sword fighting by yourself as it is. I can hit shadows all I want, they never say ouch or hit back. All it does is make my arm sore." Ava says as she heads over to him. "I can help you if you want. Will give me something to do and think about."
Collin considers her sheathed sword a moment. "Well, I expect when we disembark we could find a coupla stout practice sticks. I ain't got a problem with beatin 'on ya," he offers with a typical Collin grin. He stands up, then, wiping his paws off on his trouser legs. He presses his paw lightly to his side and peers about. "But sure. Thanks."
"You think you will beat on me, huh? Interesting." Ava says cooly to him, grinning back. "I think we should start at the back of the ship, work our way forward. You take one side, I take the other. Will take less steps and be quicker."
Collin snorts in amusement, eyeing the healer doe. "Let's just say I ain't too worried about m'pretty face," he muses with a shake of his head. He glances towards the back of the ship with a nod, standing up a bit straighter. The ceiling's low enough in here he can reach up and touch it, which he does as he makes his way back, sticking to the right.
"Well, maybe after I'm done with you, you'll be easier on the eyes." Ava fires back to him with a grin. As she heads to the back, she takes the left side as she pokes about a few crates and other items. So far, so good. Nothing out of the ordinary or worth grabbing on to.
"Ain't had any complaints," Collin remarks with a smug grin. Fortunately he's tall, as there are some overhead compartments along this side. He digs around, not worrying too much about leaving a mess behind. "Pots? Pans? Where's the loot? Aren't they /sellin'/ these slaves for somethin'?" he complains.
"Yeah? Have you had any compliments?" Ava grins as she leaps upwards to grab one of the rafters, then hikes herself upwards with a pull up to peek at some of the boxes. "Maybe it's in the Captain's Quarters?" She calls out as she drops back down with a thud. "The greedy type may be hoarding it for himself."
"S'what I'd do," Collin admits with a brief glance over his shoulder at Ava. "But I think the Lt. already searched there. S'pose it can't hurt t'check once we get up there." As for compliments, he smirks to himself, choosing to keep whatever of them he's had to himself.
"Maybe he's smart, hides it well. I guess we could tear up the floor and the furniture." Ava grins as she gives a stretch of her body. "We do have a prisoner, can trade his life for information as well. I bet he has loose lips and is willing to give up his dead captain's treasure if it meant sparing his neck."
"More'n like he has it stored off-ship somewhere," Collin mutters in quiet complaint. He crouches in front of a chest that's locked and grabs the axe from his back to strike off the lock with a loud sound. He knocks the broken lock off and returns his axe, tossing open the chest. Just someone's personal items. He rifles through and pulls out a dagger, which he turns in paw, extending to Ava handle-first. "Want it?" he queries. "We could just 'persuade' it outta him." The prisoner, that is. "If he knows anything. Seems a bit on the stupid side."
Reaching out to take the dagger, Ava looks it over, then hands it back to him. "I'm good. Married to a blacksmith. If I need some new steel all I need to do is ask." Her ears prick forward. "Sidney said he was going to interrogate him today. I wonder how that went and how conscious he is."
When the blade is returned Collin shrugs, twisting it 'round in his paw and socketing it home on his belt. Never can have too many knives, in his estimation. "Well, I /ain't/ married to a blacksmith." At mention if Sidney, he quirks a brow. "Aye? Pity. Woulda likd to've been there."
"Yeah? If you want to be, I'm sure he has a few single friends." Ava says with a teasing grin as her shoulder bumps to his. "But yeah, I would have liked to have been there as well. But, I did not get called up to stitch him back together so I'm assuming it was mostly yelling and only a minimal amount of violence."
Some More Time Passes…
Torsten's got some downtime, apparently, having hopped his way on up to the raised part of the deck by the bow. He lets the evening breeze ruffle his fur, and he occasionally lifts his paw to the back of his neck, feeling at the scabbed-up bit of fur there. His heels knock against the wood behind them, making rhythmic, slightly off-set thump-thumps.
Collin has spent much of the day inventorying the ship. It has been a rather dry and boring process, the sort for which Collin is really not suited. He gets too easily side-tracked, which possibly explains why one of the barrels he found below is at least somewhat lighter now, and his step just a /little/ less than straight. He approaches Torsten, climbing up to thud down beside him. He lets his legs dangle, though he doesn't join in the thump-thumping. "'Ey, kid."
"Hey Collin," the recruit raises a paw to salute the large buck where he sits. "Done counting things?" he asks with a smile. Oh, he's aware of what an arduous task that is, and he's very grateful that he didn't have to do it. Keeping watch is a lot less active, but at least he gets to stay above the ship. "Nothin's happened up here, wot."
"'Least Ava helped," Collin grumbles a bit. He leans back a bit, getting a gander at at the cut on the scabbed wound on Torsten's neck. "How's it doin'?" he wonders.
"...It itches," Torsten states, drearily. "I keep wanting to scratch at it, but I know I'm not supposed tah." He reaches back again to place his paw against it. "It doesn't even have the decency to itch /all the time/ or even hurt a lot. Just occasionally makes me want tah scratch."
"Means it's healin' or somethin'. Worst part, though. Worse than the bloody pain part." Collin sits forward again, rubbing absently at his side. "You did good, ya know? Evah killed before?"
"Thanks!" Torsten brightens up and grins at Collin, taking the compliment eagerly. "...No," he responds, though, with a little hesitation, as if it sinks in all at once exactly what he was being praised for. "That was the first time, wot. Wasn't at all like I thought it'd be."
Aw, kid. Collin reaches over, patting Tory briefly on the shoulder. Squeeze. "You'll get used t'it," he promises. Then glances sideways at the buck, with a small smirk. "What were you expectin'?"
Torsten rolls his shoulders up into the pat-squeeze there, his ears folding back. "It was loudah. And longah, too. In training, when yah get stabbed, it's ovah and yah start again." The recruit frowns, curling up a leg and hugging at it, linking his paws togther by grabbing one of his own wrists. "I slashed that slavah's arm, and he just screamed, and I had tah keep going. I had tah /keep/ killing him, you know?"
It's possible that Collin's not the beast to be helping Tory with this, but. He's what the kid's got. He squints, glancing off over the edge of the ship. "First time I killed someone I just remembah all the blood, ya know? Lotsa blood." He... shrugs. "You did a good job. You didn't balk. S'good, kid. You did good."
"Thanks," Torsten responds again, this time a bit more reserved, for sure. "I'm just glad he had a whip and not something pointiah," he points out with an absent rub to the back of his neck. "How's your side?" he asks, looking down and at the older hare's torso.
"S'all right," Collin assures with a small downward glance. "Just stings a bit. It's knittin' up. Shallow 'n' all." He sits back, propping himself up on his elbows while he considers the sky. "I don't think I've /evah/ heard someone say 'I'm just glad he had a whip'." He shakes his head.
"It coulda been worse, is what I mean," Torsten laughs, looking backwards at Collin and letting that leg down to dangle again. "If he had a sword he'd've just run me right through and I'd be dead, wot." He knocks those legs, thumping against the wood again, looking down at the deck floor. "I'm glad it happened /now/."
Collin's eyes narrow slightly up at the sky. "Nah. You woulda managed." He chuckles, then, and it broadens to a laugh. "... 'Ell. He was /not/ expectin' a kid like you t'do 'im in, I c'n tell you that. Surprised the life right out'a him." His head turns slightly, not quite looking at him but interest piqued. "Glad what happened now?"
"I'm glad I had tah fight now, so, you know." Torsten's boots keep thunking against the deck. "When we run into those slavahs, it's not like I'll have never killed before. Wouldn't be fair to the rest of the patrol if I was floundering around like a leveret playing badger lord," he laughs, waving his arm around animatedly as a visual aid.
Ah. Yeah. "Well, we coulda just put you on 'guard the ship' duty." Which is to say, no duty at all. "Or 'carry the things' duty. That's a good'un, too." Hm. He tilts his head. "'Course, we've got a giant for that, so..." Huh.
"I'll do whatevah," Tory states, plainly. "If that means I gotta act like a fightah for a while, then alright. I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I wanna help."
It's actually a fairly warm evening for this late in the season, and Collin lays back the remainder of the way, flipping the edge of his shirt up to allow the cut to breathe a bit. He rests his paw alongside it, eyes closing. The alcohol from earlier has left him pleasantly mellowed out. "Aw, shut up about not bein' s'posed t'be here. You're doin' fine, Tory. Just keep it up with the stabbin' when necessary."
Torsten snorts out a laugh. "Sorry, Collin, I'll be quiet about it." He crosses his arms and lets his eyes go up to the sky. It's very very clear, luckily. "Just point to where I gotta point my cutlass and I'll hack at whatevah's there," he responds.
"Figure your family's losin' their mind?" Collin wonders aloud. He scratches at his ribs, because they itch. And he can scratch them, Tory. Ha! Haha.
"By now? Yeah," Torsten responds with a sigh. "Well. Maybe," he corrects himself. "My dad'll be worried, and definitely my little brother. But if my mates told the officahs what happened, they'll at least know where I am. Which means..." The recruit leans back and thumps his back down on the deck. "My uncle's probably more likely to be looking forward to the story when I get back."
Collin's muzzle twists. "Ha. Yeah. Well, hopefully your mates're less cutthroat'n mine." He arches a brow, then, and turns his head to the side. "You know, um." He thinks for a moment. "Iggy? He's 'round your age, I think. Friends with 'is oldah brothah, Palmer, best mates growin' up. Their Da' works the docks, too."
"Iggy?" Torsten raises his eyes skyward, er. Up, at least, as he's already looking at the sky as he lays on his back. He rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, he's the one that started this whole dumb bet." The recruit chuffs. "He'll be the first I collect from, too. Put him /right/ on latrine duty, first thing I tell him when I set foot on dry land back at Halyard."
Collin grins in satisfaction. Halyard's like any small town, the connections are easy to come by. 'Specially amongst the working class. "I'll make sure t'have Palmer beat 'im up a coupla times for ya." Because big brothers. "Toss 'im down the well or somethin'."
Torsten scoffs and raises his paws up behind his head. "Yeah, I think I'd like that. He's a jerk." Maybe painted a little bit by his current situation, buuut. "I kinda wanna punch him myself right now. Right in the kissah."
"'Course ya realize, all the othah recruits're gonna be jealous," Collin notes. "Iggy kinda did ya a favah, there. S'not many recruits get battle-trainin' like this. Yer gonna be legs up on alla them." He grunts and shifts, one knee drawing up a bit while the other leg is left to dangle over the edge.
"Yeah, in /battle/ training," Torsten emphasizes. "I guess I /have/ to be a fightah now. By the time I get back I'm not gonna know how to do anything else." The recruit smiles up at the sky. "...Not that I'd mind. My uncle was a fightah."
"Aw, hell. What wouldja wanna be anything else for, anyway? Healin's boring, 'n' runnin's just... ff. That's just /tirin'/," Collin complains. He hated runner training as a recruit. Archery always seemed so piddling. "Gotta be a fightah, kid."
"Healing's not /boring./ It's kinda gross sometimes." Torsten squeezes a paw between the deck and the back of his neck, risking a few scratches because oh wow that felt really good. "Running is running, so of course it's tiring. I'm not very good at archery yet... And I guess I won't get any better out here at sea," he laughs, sounding good natured about this whole thing, really. "Maybe I can get Captain Ava to help me with that."
It takes a moment for the alcoholed buck to parse out why a healer would be helping with archery training, but he does. He gets there. "Ah, yeah. Yeah, bet she'd be happy to. Seemed like a good 'nough shot." They got a prisoner outta it! He glances to the side, then, and bumps his arm into the side of Tory's. "'Ey, 'ey. No scratchin'."
Dang, caught. "I'm not scratching /hard,/" Torsten protests, but relents anyway. "What's taking the rest of 'em so long? All of this sitting and doing nothing has gotten me tired." As if on cue, his folded arms stretch back behind him and his legs, dangling over the edge, straighten out before dropping again, mouth opening in a yawn.
"Dunno. Patrols ain't action all the time. Lt.'s probably figurin' out where we're goin' next. Still more'a those slavahs we oughta clear out." His brow furrows slightly, and he squints one eye open. And then Torsten's yawn catches him, and his eyes close again. Stupid yawns. "You oughta go on 'n' get some shut-eye."
"Yes /sah,/" Torsten emphasizes. "G'night, Collin. Thanks for keeping me company up here. Don't pass out," he bids farewell as he slides himself off that ledge and lands on the deck, stretching his arms out above his head again as he lets out another yawn.
"No promises," Collin mutters, with a little grin. "Absolutely none." His paw raises from the deck in farewell. "Night, kid."
The Next Day
Back at camp, Ava is currently making a spot of breakfast as she hunkers over a small stove candle with a pan over the open flame. She is making some scrambled eggs and cheese as she scrapes the yellow and white goo about as it begins to soften. A mug of coffee is next to her, steaming with a hint of nutmeg in it.
The land-loving buck is glad to be back on shore. Collin comes out of the nearby woods, out on a reconnaissance patrol. From the look of it he hasn't run into anyone, but he does have two stout sticks leaned against his shoulder. He strolls up to Ava's small cooking fire and tosses 'em down, before crouching to warm his paws. "'Ey. 'Nough for two?"
"Ey'. Sure. I can sneak another egg in there to make enough for two." Ava says as she reaches for one in her pack, then cracks the shell off the side of the pan and pours it in. "How is your day going? You look a bit more chipper. Glad to be off the boat, huh?"
Collin tips his head in a nod, shifting back onto his butt to sit cross-legged while he waits. Ahhhh, food. "Who /wouldn't/ be? Ships just ain't natural for a hare." He shakes his head, glancing towards the anchored ships.
"Yeah, I don't like being on the water much myself either. But, Tyree is my major and I would not feel right staying back at the mountain while my major and friend was kidnapped by these jerks." Ava scrapes the eggs about a bit more, then cuts them in half, dumping them into a cup that is handed over to him.
Looking eager for the food, Collin takes the cup with a short nod of thanks. He glances up briefly at mention of Tyree, his major as well, and smirks. He shrugs, glancing back down. "... Eh. 'E ain't so bad. Think mostly they just wanted a coupla big fightahs t'throw up against folks - thus me 'n' Alpie." He doesn't seem to mind being a battering ram. He plucks two fingers into the cup, using them to spoon out a portion of the eggs into his mouth. Manners, not a strong point out on patrol.
"Mm." Ava murmurs as she gives the eggs another poke with her fork. "Tyree is the reason why I am in the patrol. There was no way I would sit on my scut and wait." She leans over to bump her shoulder against his. "I'm glad you are here though. Feels good to have teammates here you know? We're a family."
That's a little on the sentimental side for Collin. He glances up and to the side at Ava, a spoonful of eggs waiting on his fingers. He arches a brow a little. "Family, eh?" He lets out an amused grunt. "Wouldn't go claimin' me for brothah just yet."
"Maybe a step brother." Ava says to Collin with a grin on her face. "Either way, if you were kidnapped I'd be out here trying to rescue you also." She finishes off the eggs with another few bites, giving her lips a lick. "So, when are you ready to spar a bit with sticks?"
Collin finishes the last scoop of eggs, himself, and lifts the cup in a brief gesture of thanks before he sets it down on a rock. He chew chew chews, swallows, and then stands up, brushing off his trousers as he does so. He nods to the sticks he harvested, with fresh cut marks from his axe. "Now's good."
"Now, huh?" Ava pushes herself up to her feet and brushes her knees off, then heads over to pluck up a stick. Giving it a twirl with her wrist to test the weight, she gives him a nod. "Ready when you are, champ."
Collin bends down to pick up the stick remaining to him, backing up a couple steps while he checks the - admittedly not perfect - balance of the weapon. He shrugs to himself, paws gripping to the end of his choosing. "A'right," he decides, with a glance upward at the doe. He drops back into a fighting stance.
Ava gives a proper bow towards her opponent, then takes a defensive stance with the sword-stick tilted backwards a bit, with one hand outwards. She bobs back and forth on her knees as she gives the wood a twirl about her wrist. Giving him a wild grin upon her face, she jerks her head to him.
Oh, it's that way, is it? Collin bares his teeth in a grin and launches forward, swinging the practice sword overhead and diagonally across her torso in a slash.
As he surges forward, Ava uppercuts with her own stick, looking to jam it up against his, followed by a kick forward with her foot towards his hip.
Collin is something of an immovable force. She stops the strike of his sword and the short distance kick lands on his hip - but he goes no where. He /does/ grimace. He twists his wrist and brings the sword around to the side, for her side. He is, of course, not using his full force. It's just a spar, after all.
Thunk. "Ow." Ava says as her foot collides against him. "Geezus, you're like a rock." She steps back, sliding her stick-sword back to free it from him. Giving the stick another quick whirl around, she holds it out in front of her now with both hands, taking a side-ways stance as she bends herself at the knees.
/That/ draws a laugh out of him. While she's stepped back for the moment, he drops the sword to rub at his hip, shaking his head. "Well. Your foot's no pillow, darlin'." He smirks and launches forward again. He's not one who dances forward. He stays very solid and low to the ground, very /planted/, as he strikes overhead diagonally first one direction and then the other, then cuts upward in both diagonals as well, trying to drive her back with the force of the attack.
Continuing to fight defensively, Ava steps backwards to let her stick swing out and clank against his, one-two-three as she spins and twirls the wood around to match his strikes. He is much stronger than her, and her arms are wobbly after each strike. As she is driven backwards, she tries to dig her backfoot in to stop the forward momentum, then drops down and swings out her foot for a sweep towards his ankles.
Fortunately for Ava, she catches him in a forward step, before he's fully planted. Otherwise it would just be another case of 'ow'. Boy is /solid/. She gets the hook and swipes his leg forward and to the side, drawing him off balance. He drops to the other knee with a puff of breath, and swings the practice weapon around in a hard whack to her lower thigh.
Thunk! "OW." Ava yelps out as the stick cracks against her thigh, causing her to hop away on one foot. Pulling the sword back in front of her, she gives him a loud huff. Instead of taking the moment to strike while he is on one knee, she waits for him to straighten up.
"'Ey, 'least it's a practice sword," Collin offers with a grimacing laugh. He uses the stick to lever himself up. Damn /knee/ hurts. And his hip. "Othahwise you'd be hoppin' permanent-like." He straightens, bringing his stick up again, though this time to test the spot he cracked her. Looks like it didn't crack the stick, so all good. That done, he drops low into stance and waits, giving her a little nod to urge her forward.
"Yeah, yeah. With real swords I wouldn't do with all the kickboxing. At least not as much." Ava says as she gives a quick hobble to test her own leg, then flexes her hip with a pop. Taking in a deep breath, she rushes forward with her own blade, holding it outwards to jab forward in a 'z' like swipe, chest high.
Collin has plenty of time to anticipate the attack as she moves in. He side-steps, cutting his sword down to block the jab, countering with a quick jab to her abdomen. "S'posed t'be pretendin' it's a real sword, with live steel. Othahwise, what's the point?" Nov 28, 2015 at 5:06 p.m.
Slapping his attack away with a swing of her stick, Ava gives a nod of her head. "Yeah, I know." She breathes out as she takes a ground to sky stance now as she faces him. She moves forward again, swinging out her sword towards him in a diagonal overhead swing towards him.
As occasionally happens, the two move forward into an attack at the same time, his weapon coming 'round to her opposite side as hers comes for his shoulder. He doesn't have enough time to adjust, taking the whack with a curse as he nonetheless follows through with his strike, adding a little torque at the end.
As her strike goes through, Ava only has a split-second of pride before she lets out another yap of pain as his own hit comes through and cracks her along the shoulder. She drops the stick to the ground as she clutches her arm, giving it a squeeze as she glowers at him. "Such a gentleman."
Collin pauses briefly to rub at his shoulder, then ducks low, swiping up her dropped stick. He turns it in paw, holding it out to her by its self-appointed hilt. "Toldja t'hold off on the whole 'brothah' thing," he reminds her. "All righ'?" he asks with a glance to her shoulder.
Reaching out to take the sword, Ava flashes him a grin. "Nah, I was right about it. If you weren't my brother, you'd have aimed for my head." She says, then charges forward at him as she shifts the sword to her left paw, swinging it outwards to him, then looks to duck down and drive herself into him for a tackle about the waist.
"Ha! That's just trainin'. I've had 'nough of latrine duty." Collin flashes his teeth at her in a bit of a feral grin, rather fitting on the large buck's face. He wasn't expecting the sudden charge, though, and just gets the sword up in time to block the strike, leaving him unprepared for the tackle. He lets out a sharp grunt of pain as her shoulder connects with his knife wound and he staggers back a coupla steps before he plants himself with a heel into the sand. He grabs her around the waist and hauls her up upside down. "/Bugger/ all," he complains.
"Ha! Goth-waaaah!" Ava calls out as she finds herself yanked upside down, staring at him with her arms crossed over her chest. Her ears are drooping towards the ground as she has a scowl on her face as she wobbles back and forth in his grasp. With a long sigh, her eyes give a roll. "Yes, bugger all."
After several seconds of her dangling and Collin scowling back at her, he finally lowers/drops her to the ground. It's not too gentle, but not too rough either. He backs up a step and pulls a grimace, pressing a paw to his side. From the look of him, it took a /lot/ of will power not to toss her. "Your shoulder's /bony/."
As she lands in a pile, Ava lets out a third 'ow' of the day, then scrambles up to her feet. "I am not bony. I have an average body mass index." She ambles over to him and motions. "Lift up your shirt. Let me take a peek at that. Sorry, I forgot that was the side you had the stitches on." Nov 28, 2015 at 6:01 p.m.
"Your /shouldah/ is godsdamned bony," Collin retorts with a little growl of complaint. He kicks his practice stick off to the side and lifts his shirt and tucks it up under his chin, to reveal a freshly oozing cut, stitches ripped. He rolls his eyes. Wounds don't so much gross him out as annoy him, really.
"My shoulder is /not/ bony. You are just built like a freaking mountain." Ava eyes the wound, then gathers her medical bag over and slips it along her neck and shoulder. Taking out her suture kit and some numbing medication, she kneels down in front of him and begins to apply the salve first to help numb the wound. "This isn't that bad, I'll have it fixed in a few minutes. We can practice again in a few hours."
"That's Alpie, m'just..." But he doesn't finish that. He's not exactly little, eh? Perhaps built like a large hill would be more accurate. He keeps his chin tucked to keep the shirt up out of her way, his paw resting to the side of the cut. It's not enough of an ooze to strain his pants just yet, so for that he's lucky. "Determined, aincha?"
"Just take the shirt off. May as well give me a show while I patch you back together. Win-Win." Ava says as she uses some gauze to press against the oozy part, dabbing along here and there. "And you are what?" She prods him verbally, trying to get it out of him. Threading a needle after she is sure he is numb enough, she begins to work through the flesh once again as her steady paws carefully zip in and out after cutting away the old, bad stitching.
It's sensible, so he does it. The buck pulls the shirt up over his head and tosses it to the ground, his lip curling slightly at the pull on the cut. "Easily annoyed," he provides in an alternative to what he was going to say. His teeth set on edge. Not that it's painful, but the stitch does create an unpleasant tugging sensation. He's no stranger to stitches. "You're not half-bad, for a healah."
"Well, it is my job and I have done this a thousand times. Recruits enjoy shooting themselves in the foot with arrows or chopping the tops of their ears off with swords." Ava says as she takes her time with the stitching, though her paws are practically on auto-pilot. Glancing up at him, she gives him an amused grin.
"I meant the fightin'," Collin notes with a shake of his head. Tsk. "Could care less how well you stitch me up. I expect I'll rip 'em a time or two more." Yeah, he's /that/ patient.
"Oh. Err -- thanks. I figure I am decent at hand to hand but my sword fighting is so rusty. I'm obsessive with my bow. But, I need to keep up with the sword." Ava says as she finishes the last stitch, then begins to wrap the wound with a fresh bandage.
"Well, anytime you feel gettin' beat on again." Collin's muzzle twists in amusement. Her launching herself at him apparently has not deterred him. "What with the kind of close-fightin' we'll be doin', 'n' all." He watches the process dispassionately, chewing at the inside of his lip in an absent fashion.
"I will always take an invitation to get beat up. You should box me sometime. That I may surprise you in. I have a wicked arm bar." Rising upwards, Ava gives him a smile, then lets her eyes roam along his body to look at the scars that linger here and there. "You definitely know the enemy's blade well enough."
Once she finishes, he reaches down to snag his shirt from the sand, shaking it off for a moment before tucking it to his chest, flipping it right side out before tugging it back on over his head. He pauses briefly at the comment, before pulling it down over his torso. "Ha. Most of those're just growin' up Halyard."
"I can see why Halyard is not a vacation destination spot." Ava says as she cleans her hands off on a rag, then tucks it into her medical satchel. "How does it feel? Any pain? Too tight?"
After one more cursory glance at the stitching, he tugs the shirt down over his torso and twists slightly, testing out the pull. And he shrugs. "Feels like someone's gone 'n' sewn m'skin up. So, just about right." He crouches down, retrieving their practice weapons where they've been dropped, tucking them both to lean against his shoulder. "Thanks."
Who knows how long Sid has been there, standing at the railing of the newly acquired slaver ship, watching the two hares on the shore nearby. He leans with his hands braced on the rail, in just a plain shirt with the sleeves haphazardly rolled up to his elbows - jacket and uniform tunic discarded for the moment. His hands and shirtfront are just a bit blood-speckled.
"Eh, my fault. Least I can do for you." Ava says as she gives him a thump on the shoulder with her fist, though without any real force to it. "I do appreciate you working out with me, even if we're just hitting each other with sticks. Far more entertaining than sitting around and throwing rocks at the water and waiting for orders."
Speaking of orders, Collin sends a glance towards the ship - and lo and behold, Sidney's ears must be burning, because there he is. His eyebrow cocks up at the sight of the blood, and he reaches over, grasping the top of Ava's head to turn her to look at him. "I think the ordahs might be comin'."
Ears flattening at the grasp of his paw, Ava's head is turned over to the ship, then she gives Collin a bit of a shove forward. "Yeah? I guess we'll see. Looks like he was interrogating the prisoner again. Poor sod."
Sidney tosses a smirk toward the two as, by their movements, they clearly have become aware of his presence. "Having fun?" He raises his voice a little to carry across the distance, such as it is.
"Poor sod m'arse. Deserves the head of m'axe for what 'e does," Collin mutters with a little shake of his head. The shove nudges him to the side, but not much. With a smirk, he grabs her wrist and twists it up behind her back, and walks her towards the water's edge and Sidney. "Loads!" he confirms, and releases Ava with a playful shove. Not enough to trip her or anything.
"Hey!" Ava complains as her arm is jerked behind her and she is marched forward to the water. As she stumbles forward, she whips her head around and gives a dour look to the large buck, then points a finger into his nose. "I made you eggs. Be nice." She frowns, then turns back to Sidney. "Yes, loads."
The lieutenant raises his eyebrows as Collin manhandles Ava over toward the ship, and chuffs out a low laugh. "If you're about done, then?" He lifts one hand away from the rail, making a gesture for them to come up onto the deck. "And no pushing each other overboard, by the way."
"Yeah, /then/ you ripped m'stitches," Collin retorts with a laughing, wrinkling said nose at the doe. He shakes his head, and then rapidly shifts focus - into a nod, for Sidney. "Yessah," he confirms. He gestures for Ava to lead the way. After all, he's a /gentleman/. He
"Eh, my fault. Least I can do for you." Ava says as she trudges forward in the water, then reaches up to snag the rope ladder and begins to climb up it hand over hand. Once she makes it to the top, she slips on to the deck and snaps a salute to Sidney.
Sidney sidesteps away from the opening at the railing, keeping an eye on the less than ship-savvy doe as she ascends the ladder, then greeting her with an approving smile when she makes it up onto the deck without any trouble. "Taking my advice to heart, are you?"
Collin follows Ava up the rope ladder, though it's a slightly uncomfortable process with the new stitches. He leans against the rail when he reaches the deck, not in quite as much a hurry to snap a salute. He does, it's just a little more half-hearted. "'Dja hurt your knuckles on 'is darlin' little face, sah?"
"Yup. Working with the sword a bit. We're going at it again in a few hours." Ava gives a half grin over towards Collin before looking back to Sid. "What can we do for you?"
Sidney shifts his attention toward Collin with a brief grin, though he opts to not elaborate, instead answering Ava's question for both of them. "Figured you'd like to have a go," he says, with a nod to the buck, then a glance at the healer doe. "And you, as well - or maybe you'd rather just watch?"
Perking her ears upwards, Ava shifts her medical bag against her shoulder, then looks to Collin. "Go on ahead, I will be down in a bit. I have something /just/ for a situation like this." She thumps him on the shoulder as she ambles off. "I love poisons and I have something in mind that will make him talk. Give me about ten!"
"Have a /go/?" Collin snorts out a laugh, looking between Sidney and Ava. "No idea why you didn't ask soonah." He glances around at Ava with a raised brow, and watches her go. "Almost have t'feel sorry for the rottah. /Almost/." No sympathy for slavers. "C'mon, then."
As the doe takes off, Sid raises his hand to the side of his head, pressing briefly at his temple. Hff. He gathers a smirk for the buck, shifting his shoulders up and then down. "Couldn't let you start him off with choke-holds and... amputation. I prefer a gentler touch. Sometimes that's all it takes. This one's holding out, though."
"Gentle takes too long," Collin complains - never the one for subtlety of speech. He reaches up and smacks Sid on the shoulder, gesturing for him to lead the way.
On the information they get, the group sails for Collinsel.
To read the next part of the story, click here.
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