Wer'e Gonna Need a Bigger Boat
- Location:
NF Seaport: Boardwalk (Collinsel)
- Participants: Amos, Malcolm, Dangeon, Frigg, Both Otters (Spoofed by Stubb), Moruwil & Shrews (Moruwil), Stubb, Hactor
The winds are picking up, Amos mutters as he stares up at the threatening steeely gray sky. Thunder a ways off but thankfully for the moment things are dry, "We'll ya lot, any ideas now that we've got the bloody who knows who on our tail, " He imagines the old weasel wouldn't have left things as they were after they departed the Thorn & Shadow quickly and without paying.
Malcolm is there. Of course he's there. Like he'd really live on the streets alone. He hangs around the group, his usual 'I hate everything' attitude seeming a little less hateful seeing as how, for once, most everyone around him is probably as miserable as he is, and of course, that thought warms his heart. His arms are still folded, and his tail still drags behind him. "Maybe you could go back and pay him so we can have a decent bed tonight?"
"Maybe we could kill 'im and just take the place." Dangeon mutters, focusing mostly on the ground or nothing in particular. "Sure... 's more trouble, but i's a bally drop in the ocean now..." Of course, she's probably not serious.
Frigg stays silent, but looks a bit on edge, feeling just weak all over. She coughs a lot since the incident in the chapel; she wasn't a smoking mouse before, thankfully, but the coughs, as tiny as they are, still have a menacing sound to them. She waits for Angus to explain their current predicament. She draws her red cloak about her tighter, shivering. She looks at Malcolm, nodding.
She puts the lotion in the basket. Frigg stole it from the inn; she looks about guiltily.
"Ain't nobody gonna do any killing just yet and shut ya trap junior, " Amos glares at Mal, turning to Frigg, "What about ya, ain't'cha got anything to say mouse?"
Malcolm blinks at Amos and frowns. "Why don't you try and shut it up, huh? Great fleabag." he snaps back at Amos glaring at him right back before looking up to the sky for a moment or two.
Dangeon shrugs and slows down a little. She's not dragging her feet, but she's walking a little leisurely; if there's running to do, she's sure she'll be fine being a hare after all. She walks fast enough not to let the others get away from her anyway.
Frigg looks at Amos suddenly, shifting her basket behind her, with the lotion jostling around inside, "I, um... are we here to hire a ship? If we want to get away, it might be a good idea to see how mu-- *hack* much we can put together for a ride - even if it's just enough *cough* to get us farther down the coast. I for one would *cough, cough* rather be heading north, if it's all the same." Hack, cough.
Wind-borne salt gnaws sharply at exposed fur and stings at eyes. The sea is choppy this morning: it slops at the piers and speaks in coughing splashes from beneath the boardwalk. An old otter in a beaten jacket unloads the first haul of the day from his companion's skiff. He glances over at the group from time to time, eyes playing warily over them one by one.
Angus lopes along the dock, quiet. Apart from the otter and his seafaring mate, the marina is conveniently unpeopled this morning. The lizard adjusts his load; Stubb could pass as a sack of potatoes, given his lethargy, so the quasi-corpse has yet to raise any brows. Pausing, Angus sizes up the skiff, queasy smirk usurping his scowl.
Amos ignores Malcolm, seemingly not effected by his retort as he listens to Frigg, "North, why north? Ain't we far enough north as it is?" The wildcat eyes the old otter and his boat as he answers seemingly answering absent mindedly.
Malcolm isn't usually one for keeping something going, but he is today. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue or something?" he shrugs. "Figured." and thats when he looks to Frigg, not bothering to reply to her. He doesn't really care too much which way they go.
Angus lobs a glance over each shoulder, and then, rather nonchalantly, approaches the bobbing vessel. "Oi, seadog," he hails. "How fast is yer' heap?" His dark eyes frisk the skiff, critical. "M' mates an' I be lookin' fer swift passage outta' th' vicinity. We kin pay ye'. Handsome-like."
Frigg shrugs, "Because I just have a feeling about these things, Amos. Did you not come from the south? And isn't that where you say you were defeated? *cough, cough* Go wherever you wish, I know not the intentions of the group as a whole." She looks at Angus. "Handsomely, did you hear that? We should be well on our way out of this dreadful *hack, cough* excuse me- out of this place." She clears her throat.
The otter seems ready for the question. He peers out from beneath great bushes of eyebrows at Angus, not at all startled by the dragon's species, nor by his bedraggled condition. "Show us teh munneh an' weh'll tawk," he grunts in his strange accent. "Yew an teh rest a tis lot?" He takes in the motley group with a sniff.
Amos is turned watching Angus, half listening to Frigg and especially Mal, "Ain't'cha the clever one Mal, how about ya just stay quiet and mope about like usual mkay?" he grins, then turns to Frigg, "Uh huh, if ya say so and I wasn't defeated.. ain't got any idea where you got that crazy notion."
Eyes from behind a barrel. It should be apparent by now who would be still watching the movements of the group. And it doesn't look good. The black squirrel, the savior from the chapel, looks over at the two or three shrews next to him, all behind the adjacent barrel. "Not good at all..." he trails off. The shrews look at him, "Eh, what's that, sire?" He looks back at them, "If they go over sea, those bugs will not /budge/ from their place in the orb. We will lose them. Thus far our little lizard has been compliant, although we've had little tracking to do." (Moruwil)
Malcolm stares at Amos again and smirks. "An' how bout you jump into the water, huh? Or why don't you jus' let me push you?" he shakes his head slowly.
"Prove its worth, mate. We ain't about t' be flashin' our fortune in broad day." The dragon pirouettes, propelled the subtle momentum of his cargo. "We ain't know who's watchin' us, aye? But," he cuts sharply, then lowers his snout to whisper, "Trust us, mate. Ye' ain't really got a choice, aye?" Angus again appraises the nigh deserted pier, and plants a resolute foot upon the narrow plank that links the skiff to the dock. "Oi, gentlemen!" he hollers to his cronies, gesturing with his head for the others to follow suit, board, before the otters have any chance to object.
"I meant Hactor's army... you were never part of that lot? I didn't know, I just assumed, forgive me." The mousemaid coughs, looking around, before approaching the weasel, "Excuse me sir, which way is the vessel bound? Is it north of here?" She remains hopeful even if the answer is in the negative. Before she has her chance, though, they are boarding. "Well, I don't have much choice, I guess..."
"Shush, ya da is trying to get us out of here, " This in reply to Mal's invitation that Amos take a swim and then in reply to Frigg, "Nope, ain't no fool and didn't know ya took us for such, " Quickly though he moves to board himself onto the skiff and smiles at the otter, "Glad to be doing business with'cha mate!"
Malcolm smirks a little bit. "Didn't think so." he replies quietly, looking to the larger, older lizard, keeping an eye on him, and the otter of course for a few moments. He slowly steps up onto the plank and then onto the deck, looking around.
The gruff otter takes this development in stride, shifting only to move the unloaded fish out of the path of the crew. He watches them scramble aboard the tiny skiff. "Yew c'n hahve 'er for a fiver, mets, but don' xpect meh to be guidin' ye'. She won't tek more aboard." He grasps the boat's mooring in his paw and squints down at Angus. His fur whips in the wind.
One of the shrews tries to reason, "Well, why 'on't we jus' follow th'lights o' the vessel, then?" The squirrelprince shakes his head, "Unfortunately, Yorghis, this is an exceptionally-deep port, but the coastline is far too shallow and full of shoals for them to stick close to it. We'd lose them as soon as they were a few hours out... ah, they're leaving!", he cries. Split second thinking dictates Moruwil's actions. "Quick, the other otter is loading some things - we need to get inside the ones in the back and hope for the best!" They dart across when nobeast is looking.
The other otter manages to get one of the shrews, which doesn't cause him any pause, but once that's hefted into the back of the boat, the one with the squirrel is next. He shifts it and grunts. "Ugh, what'cha have put innis'n? It's as 'eavy as a sqwerl!" He tips it on its side and rolls it down the plank and into the boat, a very dizzy squirrel inside!
The little boat grimaces beneath the company of its new crew; it croaks and slopes as they board. "Thank ye' kindly, sir," Angus tells the sailor, and tips him a shrewd wink. "Yer benevolence'll be rewarded tenfold, I promise ye'." As he prattles, the dragon deposits Stubb on the deck, and hastily takes in the alien mechanics of the ship. "Oi, Amy. Ye', uh, piloted one o' these before, right? Just .. uh. Er. Oh, toads. Grab th' wheely gadget, aye? Mal, uh. Watch over th' edge--make sure we ain't gonna' strike nothin'." After a head count, the dragon hastily moves to detach the boat from the dock. Sweaty hands fumble with the rope, tugging at the thick, convoluted knot.
Malcolm watches Angus for a moment and uhs, nodding, going over tot he railing and sticking his head over to watch for anything that will sink them faster.
"Admittedly its been a while since I done any sailing but sure shouldn't be any problem, " Amos reassures the dragon though hesitates a moment to stare at Angus in confusion and bafflement at his ignorance, he shakes this off and turns to Mal with a grin, "Don't'cha go worry either boy, wont let'cha drown even if ya is a pain in my backside. "
The otter reattaches the line and rushes up to stop his companion. "'Hell 'r you loading up, Chip? Gonna let teh ol' girl go for a fiver. Haul t'ose barrels back up 'ere." He shakes his head, muttering, then stalks back to the edge of the pier. "About thet munneh," he says, showing his teeth.
Frigg looks at the barrels being loaded. "Um... what are... these? Are they necessary?" The other otter looks at the mousemaid, and then back at his companion, "Aw, mae', 'fiver ain't gonna get us a decent boa' - we coulda' sold higher, huh? Oh well..." He rolls the barrels back out, a very distressed couple of beasts inside - another trip to them can only mean one thing. "Dis barrel, 's awfully.. /weird/."
Angus continues to tug impotently at the anchoring cord. "Right right, mate. Money." He glances to Amos. "Amy? Pay th' good creature." This directive is punctuated with a grin so toothy it fiendishly out-pearls that of the otter. "With th' 'fiver' in yer pocket?" His eyes are wide, smile immobile; he speaks through gaily clenched teeth.
The otter smoothly assimilates his companion's demands and adds, almost as if he hadn't stopped speaking, "Fer each of us."
Mally keeps his eyes open on the water but he can't help to look at Angus after a moment, grinning back. THATS the kind of attitude he likes. Why can't his 'dad' be more like that more often?
Attention is turned to the otter, and then Angus as it becomes clear that Amos is the one paying for this boat. The wildcat stares at the dragon with a twisted grin, "Sure, " His uneasy calm erupting as the wildcat attacks with one quick pop of his fist to Angus' jaw, moving to take his seat again he reaches for a fiver and holds it out to the otter, "Now I'm the captain of this vessels so yah'll can all just shut it!"
Angus's grin is smacked clean off.
Amos grumbles as he suddenly remembers the request for another coin, pulls out another fiver reluctantly and passes both to the otter.
Angus mouths unspeakable curses at the cat, but drops. "Aye aye, kitty cap'n," he snidely croons, hobbling a pace or two, until he takes hold of an oar. "If ye'r finished with yer farewell smooches, let's be off."
The fisherbeast accepts the pair of coins with a mild smirk, still loosely gripping the mooring in his paw. "'Ey, Chip," he calls to his companion. "Catch. Weh'll beh ettin' good tonight!" With that, he tosses the line onto the skiff. "Heppy voyages, mets!" he says in his inscrutable accent, then turns to deal with today's piscatorial haul.
"Two fivers for a single boat such as this one really is a /bit/ much. What were we thinking?" Frigg sighs and sits on the squirrelmaid's lap near the back of the skiff. She coughs and looks back toward the dock. "I think that was their bait, the otter was loading. It smelled /awful/. Probably would have chucked it over anyway, but I couldn't imagine having to sit with it." She looks distainfully at them, and thinks she sees one moving. She rubs her eyes.
"Ya grab the other ore Mally, and ya best be quiet unless ya want to swim mouse, " Amos grumbles at his crew, turns to give a strained grin at the others as he waves off.
Malcolm blinks and stares. "What!?" he sounds almost offended at the idea of rowing. "Haha...great sense of humor." he nods once, frowning. No one said ANYTHING about working on this trash heap. And that smile vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
Angus, muttering, grips both paddles and pulls. The skiff lurches forth into the bay.
Stubb is elbowed in the head as Angus heaves the boat away from the boardwalk. The weasel's eyes creak open and blink away a week's worth of sleep. He groans. His lips move dumbly against his teeth, snagging occasionally upon them.
Frigg waits patiently for the boat to set out, and glances back to port, seeing the squirrel and shrews running away with the maddened fisherbeasts giving partial chase. They stop and shout, not given to abandoning their catch. "Odd.. was that..?" She taps Sandy and the squirrelmaid and she chuckle at the strange scene.
Angus fails to notice the flutter of life in his comatose comrade, the sum of his concentration devoted to maneuvering the wee craft. It wends in the water, course unsteady.
An ominous rumble issues from the east.
Angus lifts his chin. "Ye' hear that, mates?" he finally pipes. "Shapin' up t' be a rough voyage." The dragon coughs pointedly, but continues to stroke.
Deaf to his threat it seems, the wildcat doesn't quiet give the order for Frigg to be thrown overboard yet and instead reaches for the other ore from Angus, "Let me help ya with that, and ain't no worry mates. Don't look too bad yet."
Malcolm looks over his shoulder at the rumble and then his frown gets frownier, his arms folding over his chest. "Great. We're all going to die at sea. Thanks for that." he shakes his head and slouches.
Stubb's eyes have drifted shut once again, but he squirms at the bottom of the boat and raises an arm to defend himself from unseen foes. "... tha bloody 'ell are you bru'es taykin' me?" He speaks with volume despite his hoarse voice. The weight of his body shifts one way then the other, jelly-like, as the sea rocks the boat. But now, feebly, his muscles give hints of resisting the buffeting motion.
Angus falters, grip lost on the oar, and almost capsizes the boat as he reels. "Stubb!" the dragon howls. "He's alive, mates!" As if they were unaware, given the immensity of the craft. But the dragon is too overjoyed to jabber anything but nonsense; he hops over the bench, practically tackling the moaning mustelid. "It's us, mate. Yer pallies." He taps the side of Stubb's snout and tugs at a flitting eyelid. "Stubb! Oi, mate. Oi!"
Frigg tells a story to Sandy, "You know, when Mayuel and Turmal, my sons, were younger, they were always getting into trouble like this - I remember once they both were out on the Great Inland Lake, in a boat no bigger than this... stormy weather, all kinds of dangerous fish, the works... Mayeul tipped the boat on purpose and Turmal fell in and his big brother saved him." She bites her lip, looking down at her necklace, "He wanted so much to be looked up to, he confessed that was the reason he did it. Afterwards, though, I gave them both a good beating, hah! I reckon their backsides are still red, well... Mayeul's." Her eyes well up.
Everybody's lost it it seems, no sooner has Amos the other oar than Angus has dropped his and is assulting poor Stubb, "Yes we got it, didn't know he was dead, " He snaps, he grabs the other oar now dropped and begins to row both so they don't coast to a stop or go in circles, "Grandma, shut it unless ya wanna do your reminiscing while you take a swim, " The turning to Mal, "Grab the other oar lizard breath, " He glares, determined to take out his frustration on Mally and make someone take his authority of this vessle seriously.
Malcolm woahs and almost falls over. "Sit'down you stupid idiot!" he growls out at his father. "You're gonna capsize the boat and kill us all!" he barks before blinking again at Amos, who gets a growl and a frown. "No." he replies firmly.
Unfortunately for the wildcat, the tide is moving in and tugging the boat along with it. The otters, now back by their crate of fish, watch with unconcealed amusement as the hapless seafarers make little headway. Stubb, meanwhile, bombarded with pokes, groans loudly and swings his claws at his assailant. "Don' even... bloody..." His voice tapers to a ragged silence, and his eyes, tugged upon by his friend, ease open. A lash of frothy wind stings him and the rest, and another tremor bears ill tidings from the ocean.
Hactor sat, galring at the entire group in general and shivering wraped in his cloak. The old fox HATED being on open water. Ever since his days as a slave aboard a slaver's ship he had sworn that he would never set paw on a ship again. Angus' possible capsising of the boat did not help Hactor's sour mood either. "For once I agree with tha brat," he growls at Angus, "Sit down."
Angus submits to the weasel lashes, lost in a jubilant stupor. He ignores the complaints of the others, debriefing his resurrected chum in a pell-mell sequence of squawks and yelps. Sucking a breath, he readies an explanation for their sea legs, but an ornery wave whips over the rim of the skiff. The dragon, drenched, sputters and chokes.
Frigg continues, through her tears, "...Mayeul... is a bit of a sad case, though. He fell down into a well not long after that incident, and lost all recognition of us. He never saw Turmal again after that, and... and I couldn't bear to be near him - that's when we put him into the squirrelking's service, even though he was just a mouse. It was... we thought it would have worked out better, but I'm still proud--" She's cut off by Amos, and sighs.
Filled with rage the wildcat glares at Malcolm as he struggles against the tide, "That's enough, Hactor or Mal one of you grab the bloody ore and one of you get the damn fool under control so we don't all drown!" He glares as he gives his orders, content at least that the rodent has shut her trap. Though slightly disappointed he doesn't get to throw her overboard just yet.
Malcolm looks to Hactor. "You grab the ore." he says in a commanding tone before he stands, as best as he can of course, and makes his way to Angus. What's the best way to control a big brute? Well, smacking him of course! And thats what Malcolm tries to do. Land a firm punch into the larger lizards side. "SIT!" he growls out. "Before you kill me!" he pauses. "And everyone else!"
Stubb is sloshed by the trespassing wave, and coughing, he sits up. "Gus? Ma'e? Se'tle yorese'f. Wha's da fuss?" His voice is vague now, with confusion as much as by the residue of his affliction. He smacks his arid lips a few times, then begins to take in his surroundings. "Looks loike oi missed a bit a excoi'emen'." His playful words are uncolored by emotion. "'Ow'd we end ap in a bloody boa'?" He rubs his head. "An' what've you lo' been crammin down moi froa'?" His face bends into a grimace as he rubs his throat.
Hactor has a sudden urge to backhand the youth, but before he can Malcom's up and backhanding his dad. The old fox grabs the oar as best he can with is good arm. "This brings me back," he chuckles bitterly.
"We ain't cramm--oof!" The punch hits its mark, but the blow is mostly to Angus' dignity. "Mal/colm/," he yowls, clenching the bench behind him for stability. "Are ye' all daft? Don't ye' even give a toad's warty arse that--oh, hello. Look!" The dragon yanks furiously at Amos' tail. "He's awake, ye' filthy, uncarin'--" Another frothy swell halts the tirade, and Angus tightens his grip on the skiff. "Perhaps this whole sailor business weren't such a bright idea, boys."
Frigg clings to the squirrelmaid in the back of the boat, drenched and leaning precariously every which way - it seems as if any one of them would be the straw that broke the camel's back; she can feel the weight of each of them imperiling the boat. She keeps clinging, foam and seawater splashing, and the occasional seaweed being churned up and tossed over the side. Her coughing is drowned by the other sounds now, so that she can barely hear herself. She shuts her eyes tightly.
The harbor is dense now with vessels returning early from the sea, fleeing the coming storm. By the docks--still not so far away--sailors run hither and yon, furiously securing and unloading their boats. The otters, if they are still there, are lost amid the sudden bustle. As if to spur on the frenzy, a slender column of phosphorescent lightning cracks the sky.
Amos gives a painful yowl, but stays in his seat as he struggles against the swells drenched and unhappy as he puts that fury towards trying to save them from all drowning, "You are all mad, I'm the bloody captain and ya kindly shut ya traps or get the hell off!"
"Shite!" curses the fox. He then yells over the rest, "Ya know, it;s great ta see ya again Stubby, but we won;t be see'n ya much longer untill we get to that shore!" Then as if to emphasise the tod's warning, another loud crack of thunder and lightning rips the sky.
Of course it wasn't a bright idea. Malcolm didn't come up with it. Either way, he was quite pleased when the punch landed, the young lizard growling. "You...sit down, shut up, and get us the heck out of here!" Malcolm folds his arms and stares. He does that angry stare quite well. Then he stares at Amos. "I don't remember anyone putting YOU in charge."
The combined effect of this chaotic scene is to force Stubb's weary eyes shut once again. "An' oi were jes' beginnin' ta enjoy moi nap," he mumbles. He starts at the bellow of thunder. "Oi were 'avin' da strangest dream 'bou' Deloilah. Did oi ever tell you 'bout 'er, ma'e?" He takes on an abstract look, seeming all at once quite indifferent to the fate of the boat. He doesn't even seem to mind if Angus is listening.
Angus bobs around with the boat.
