Open The Bilge In The Bucket Drinks All Around

[Caden S. Freemont]

The fox's bellow brought Caden's attention more squarely on him, and he felt as though the Fates were continuing to play a cruel joke on him. As a kit, had never met the todd, but it was impossible to be the son of a Minister of War and not know of Jeshal the Ironclaw. If Jeshal was alive and in the Imperium, Caden could only hazard that Tanya was back, too, and that possibility had him feeling like he should simply run...somewhere.

Then the red panda spoke to him and he nearly bolted at her inquiry. Rather than running, though, he fairly melted into the seat beside her, avoiding eye contact of everybeast at the bar.

"Uh, hello there, everyone. Name's Caden." He lifted a paw in a nervous wave to those assembled around Pomodu.

"Vaelora Ryalor? I knew of her. I was a kit when the riot happened. It was a horrific night, as I recall. As for her coming back?" Caden suppressed a shudder, recalling her blank, dead stare. "No, I've found that most beasts killed in the manner that I heard she was don't come back."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Even in the absence of the resources of her youth, tracking Jeshal down proved no great feat. Though there was no consensus on time or location (a mercy considering her abduction) Tanya instinctually knew that both would be drawn to one of the most infamous haunts in the city. One way or another, all roads led back to the pub.

Leaving her sister’s offices in possession of both a lightness of heart and a depth of grief, the vixen had decided to suppress all thoughts on the matter until later. There was far too much emotion tangled now in her chest like an old trawler’s net to begin unspooling when stood in the streets.

Instead she had begun a slow meander to the Bilge, the sights and scents of the city as familiar as the weight of the Dark Judge Brushes now back in her possession. Even those shops, buildings, street signs and establishments which had been overhauled, purchased or re-built entirely still carried something she felt an instinctual affinity for. It was difficult to articulate even to herself how returning felt. Most of her life had been spent here: she had missed it as one might feel a phantom limb, an absent extension of herself. To step back into it was as right as it was discomfiting.

The Bilge seemed as lively as ever. Tox slipped inside quiet as a moonshadow, eyes darting to assess what she could. Something softened in her features when she saw Jeshal’s familiar coat at the bar, though it quickly faltered to see the size of the red creature sat with him. It was like some badger but…fluffier. There were so many faces in the rambunctious scramble to the bar, none of them familiar—

-Oh. Oh, but there was one. Tanya froze. He was so much bigger than the last time she’d laid eyes on him as a fuzzy little kit, but the white marten was unmistakable; nightmares of his parents had haunted her long enough that the similarities all but screamed at her. The tightness in her chest took hold of her throat, and without thinking she disappeared back outside to slip into the side-alley.

“Gates why’s this all at once?!” she hissed, face buried in her paws as she took a moment to compose herself in the (relatively) fresh air. To call today emotional would prove an understatement; it was for the best that she was charged with leaving on the dawn tide for every instinct screamed at her to run. Had it always been like this?

The fox drew a ragged breath and leaned back against the wall, letting the solidness of the Bilge ground her senses as she reassessed. She’d navigated uncomfortable discussions before; if Caden wanted one, it was long overdue and she wouldn’t deny him. There was little else for it but to tough it out without making a scene. She could fall apart later: this wasn’t about her.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to be a little theatrical. Skirting the rest of the building, a quick conversation and a few slipped guilders allowed her access through the back. The first time anybeast saw her she was behind the bar, setting a flagon of cider down before her husband with an arched brow and a smirk. “An’ what time do you call this, eh?”

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

The sound that Pomodu emitted was coincidentally the exact pitch and frequency that, two hundred years hence, a future Ministry of Innovation and Ministry of War would weaponize as a sonic crowd control device. Everyone within the confines of the Bilge suddenly found themselves stricken momentarily with a splitting headache, one which faded as the red panda paused for breath. A few seconds later, there was a cascade of thumps on the roof of the Bilge as a group of gulls with the misfortune to be flying overhead at that moment began dropping out of the sky, stunned and disoriented.

"Poiso' Fo'x Tanaya!" the besotted fanatic squealed, paws going to her cheeks and fluffing them in excitement. "I a'm you mo'su'tu lo've fa'n! He're," she hurried to pull her volume of Imperial tales and legends from her bag and hurriedly flipped to the highly stylized illustration of Tox and Jeshal ascending above Bully Harbor while locked in embrace. This was followed by a quill and a tightly sealed bottle of ink. "Pulea'se you sigh'n?" she begged, offering the quill. "You too Jesahalu!"

 

[Tal'Rakan]

Rakan was now seeing (and even more so hearing) why this place was so good for information gathering. It seemed as if everyone important or interesting was here. He didn't want to interject, not yet at least. And the fox proclaiming to, as he understood, pay for all drinks... that one seemed most interesting of them all here.

And then the vixen came in. Reaction to her as well as her way of entering told the Lynx two most crucial pieces of information. Firstly, she was bold. Secondly, she was more or less famous. What for? Maybe he should learn. Seeing as this other foreign beast acted, Rakan knew this must've been a living legend. Tanaya... He will have the crew that came with him gather information about her. Always worthy endeavour to know other side assets. Even if Imperium so far aimed to ally Phoenixes.

He got now close to the group, deciding to gesture for any barman or barmaid to serve him. He would use that free drink privilege alright, even if he had enough wealth back home to never care for it. Here however? It was but a perfect reason to get just next to the whole group.

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Caden. ‘Gates, the poor sod had grown up. He had never known the beast, but he had heard what happened to his parents. Along with who had been responsible. Would the pine marten take a dislike to him by association?

It didn’t help hearing confirmation of Armina’s demise. Perhaps this wasn’t the best place to meet up with Tox after all.

And then suddenly another round of cider was put in front of him and a familiar voice spoke on the wrong side of the bar.

Even with his anxiety about their present company, Jeshal couldn’t help an amused snort. Right before his ears fell flat against the onslaught of Pomodu’s excitement. Had it carried on, he would have jammed his hat down over them. His eyes flicked upward at the thump of stunned gulls on the roof. Odd, that he recognised the sound.

Reassured by other company, Jeshal decided to see how things played out. Tanya’s presence was a balm in this old and new world.

“But of course,” he said to Pomodu, taking the quill and picture. “Anything fer an admirer.”

As he dipped the quill, he side-eyed his wife.

“If this be yer new job, do I be getting bottom pinching privileges?”​

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano had grown uncharacteristically quiet as he waited for his rum, the clink of glass and soft din of the tavern washing over him like a warm tide.

Then came Pomodu’s squeal.

It hit him like a cannonade as he slapped both paws to his ears with a startled yelp, eyes clenching shut as the sound reverberated through his skull. By the time it tapered off and he dared to lift his paws again, the echo still rang in his head. Somewhere above, the muffled thumps of sea birds tumbling from the rafters punctuated the silence.

He blinked once. Twice. His eyes slowly refocused.

“Whew,” he breathed, blinking away the daze. “And I thought opening night reviews were brutal.”

As Jeshal scrawled his name across the sketchbook, Ruffano rose with newfound clarity and glided across the floor. He slung an arm around Pomodu’s ample shoulder, his grin wide and winning.

“Pomodu, my delightful demon friend…” he began, letting the words drip with warmth. “I can call you friend, right?”

He gave her a gentle shake with his arm and leaned in like they’d known each other for years.

“You and I must get together like this more often. Really.” A pause. “I dare say I haven’t felt this well-defended in weeks.”

He chuckled softly, already imagining how her next sonic blast might be aimed away from him and, preferably, at his enemies.

Ruffano’s eyes drifted back to Jeshal, now drawing a growing crowd of curious patrons and awestruck onlookers. It was turning into something between a reunion and a myth come to life, and while Ruffano had every intention of lingering, if not for history then at least for networking, his enthusiasm was beginning to sour.

His gaze flicked toward the bar. His rum glass still sat miserably empty.

The bartender, to their credit, looked ready to pour, but was entirely cut off by the vixen in who seemed to have claimed the center of the conversational stage, on both sides of the bar.

Ruffano’s whiskers twitched.

“This,” he muttered to no one in particular, “is how revolutions start.”

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden's ears flattened at the appearance of another specter from his past behind the bar. She had aged, of course, but Tanya was still very much how he remembered her from his kithood. Dreamlike memories of his time with her and Falun and their kits surfaced, more impressions than distinct images, overlaid with the very complicated emotions of what this vixen had done to his family when he was barely out of his infancy. He understood better now how his mother had forgiven her for the death of his father and how the pair had moved beyond that singular tragedy, but still a small, burning core of resentment dwelt within him for what she had taken from him. Even if Gordon had been a traitor to the Imperium, the kit that Caden once was still mourned growing up without a father.

The keening cry from the red panda jolted Caden from his reminiscing. Already on edge, he jumped from his seat, knocking his stool over. It took him several moments to recover, his heart hammering in his chest. He righted his stool and sat upon it once more. The marten managed to raise his gaze to meet Tanya's, and he tapped a claw on the bar. His kept his expression as level as he could as he spoke.

"I'll take one of those free drinks being offered, if the bar is serving them up."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Not unlike Caden, Tanya’s highly-strung emotions did not respond overly well to Pomodu’s ear-splitting exclamation. She flinched, ragged ears perked in alarm as she stared in wide-eyed bewilderment at the enthusiastic beast. Initially she had wondered if they were unwell or about to launch into a furious tirade; truthfully the vixen did not know what to do with herself when it became apparent that this beast was a fan. She stared, mouth agape, rescued only by her husband taking charge of the quill first. Fortunately she did not let herself get too good a look at the illustration yet: so soon after the shout and she might have had to empty half the stock behind the bar.

As she was to him, so was Jeshal’s presence grounding in the midst of the chaos. His comment was enough to distract her and she swatted his shoulder. “You do that in front of all these guests and you’ll be seeing my barrin’ delinquents from the tavern privileges,” she joked. “I see you’ve been well busy. I leave you for half a day and you get yourself an entourage?”

Though by no means a proficient barman, Tanya was possessed of more than a passing relationship with alcohol and had spent a generous chunk of her life at the bar. Rather enjoying the moment of play pretend, she slid a further tankard onto the bar in invitation of the alarmingly large feline hovering nearby, and then a further glass of rum to the younger todd. To him she flashed a smirk. “Oooh, I’d be careful there: don’t do a body good to announce such things in public, now does it? Never know who might get wind of such things.”

She was about to duck aside and let the real beast who ran the bar resume work when a claw tap caught her attention; then she caught his eye. The breath locked in her chest for a terrifying moment. It took all of her skills to maintain composure, to bite her tongue against the myriad of apologies and explanations and excuses which had percolated over the seasons. Whilst she could never truly say that she regretted the necessity of Gordon’s death, to have abused the trust of her dear friend and left a kit without a father was a matter of conscience which had only grown with time. If I didn’t have the kits to keep an eye on I’d offer you the same revenge I did your mother.

In the eternity of a subtle pause, Tox found her voice and managed a softer smile. “Aye, ‘course you can.” With Herculean effort she kept her paws steady enough to pour and place the drink, her paw lingering for a moment. Her voice dropped, a comment made just for the marten’s ears. “If you want t’ talk proper, we can go outside. Jus’ let me know.”

To maintain privacy on the matter she had leaned back with a supposedly casual air, and in doing so finally settled her eyes on the open book. Suddenly feeling self-conscious of the illustration now that she had seen it, Tanya hastily, if distractedly, pulled it across to herself. She hadn’t signed a document in years: the fox dipped a claw into the ink and scratched a rough approximation of her old signature. “What in ‘Gates is this?” she asked the large creature. “I knew history books could be adventurous, but…” A glance was shot Jeshal's way. "You didn' put her up to this, did you?"

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

Pomodu looked like she might faint as both living legends signed the page. She let out a much more controlled squeal, clapping her paws so enthusiastically that the bottles on the shelves behind the bar shook ominously. "I'su my boo'k!" she enthused, carefully picking up the open volume and blowing gently on the page to dry the signatures before flipping through. "I'su I wui'te! I an'du di min'sutuelusu who te'll di sutorisu o'f di Valupin'sula. Di sucuibesu wui'te wha't we say, dey ma'ke di boo'k!" She beamed as she added, "I leh'n Valupin'sulanu to co'me mee't di legen'dusu - an'du you ah he're!"

The red panda eagerly showed off another illustration, this one a full two-page gilded illumination of what seemed to be a pantheon of Bully Harbor legends, many only barely recognizable in allegory. There was what seemed to be an imperious golden statue of a fox; the highly stylized renderings of Jeshal with his fully metal arm and Tanya wearing a tricorn more ostentatious and feathered than anybeast had ever worn in naval history; renderings of Vladimir and Vertherian Ullyanov (recognizable only by Vladimir's mask) both wearing robes of night sky and starlight; a rendering of Nuori Sken Freemont as what appeared to be a bodybuilder of the kind that would put classic legends to shame, lifting the entire Vulpinsulan isle upon her shoulders; a weasel dressed so ostentatiously it could only have been Miles Mistoffelees, weaving what appeared to be an illusory disguise out of thin air; and, tucked toward the end, two nearly identical vixens with green eyes, albeit light and shadow opposites to each other, one a saintly white figure with sweeping headfur, the other a crouching, feral beast with dark fur and teeth bared.

"I'su a'll he're!" Pomodu enthused, pointing to each illustration in turn. "Di Un'shackaledu Anatiyasa, Metalu Ah'mu Jesahalu an'du Poiso'n Fo'x Tanaya, Vuladimiru an'du Veretiruna, di Moun'tai'nu Nuoriskena, Misutafali Milasu, an'du di beasutu o'f nigh't an'du day, Reelor Valarola an'du Ro'gu Arimana. I desi'ngu myseh'fu," she added with some small measure of pride.

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano’s eyes tracked the barmaid vixen as she plucked up his empty rum glass to refill it. His paw hovered in midair for a moment, then slowly lowered as his attention drifted elsewhere, namely, to the increasingly tangled web of familiar faces from literature standing before him in the flesh and fur.

Jeshal the Ironclaw. A ghost brought back to flesh, or something close to it... And now this barmaid. Those fur markings. The way she interacted with Jeshal, however copious the eggshells she was treading on were

His eyes widened.

“By Vulpuz’s whiskers,” he whispered, eyes darting from Jeshal to Tanya. “Why, is that Tanya!? Why the dearly departed are having a reunion!”

As Tox returned and passed him the rum, Ruffano accepted it with a flourish.

“That may be true,” he replied to her comment, “but isn't also reawakening from the grave?”

He gave a cheeky wink, then turned and sauntered back to his place at the bar with a sip of newfound satisfaction. Settling onto the stool once more, Ruffano let his tail flick behind him, the grin softening into something more pensive. He was part of this somehow. And yet, there was a strange feeling growing at the back of his brain. He was beginning to feel like a new spouse brought to a family reunion where every beast shared old inside jokes. Not a problem. As long as the alcohol continued to flow, and he wasn't shooed away, he'd be perfectly happy just sitting and observing.

For now, he sipped he sipped is Rum and he watched. Waiting for his next stage cue.

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden accepted the drink from Tanya, nodding at her offer. "I may take you up on that after a drink or two," he said quietly.

Then he saw the book. It took him several moments to discern both Pomodu's words and what he was looking at. Despite his reservations about present company, he could not help but lean in to get a better look at the illustration.

"Oh 'Gates." He bit his lip to keep a straight face. Clearly Pomodu was quite proud of her work, and it would be rude to laugh. However, it was not difficult to imagine his mother's reaction to her depiction.

"Mum would have enjoyed that," he finally managed to say with a level tone and straight face. He reached out to carefully trace a finger over the extremely swole image of Sken. "'The Mountain' seems apt from what I can remember of her."

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

His grin fading from Tanya’s clapback, Jeshal slipped into one of his quieter, calculating demeanours. A near smile rested on his face, but beneath he sat on alert. As alert as he could be a few ciders down. He watched her talk to Caden, unable to hear the words but very much determined that he wasn’t about to let his wife out of his sight until he felt somewhat assured Freemont did not mean her an injury.

Ruffano caught his attention a moment and he delivered a smug smirk, filled with pride and just a touch of possession for Tanya.

He chose the wrong moment to resume another mouthful of cider, almost snorting it out of his nose at Tox’s comment about the illustration. Jeshal just managed to cough it down. He believed he discerned what Pomodu was saying about her being the writer of this book of ‘legends’.

Unlike Caden’s politeness about his mother’s hilarious depiction, when Jeshal saw the picture of Tanya, a laugh burst from him. “Haharr! Wherever de ye put this hat o’ yours, love? I’ll be stealin’ it off ye soon as I clap eyes on it.” It helped to think on that rather than ‘Valarola’ and ‘Arimana’.​

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Another good point made, and the vixen had to raise her eyebrows in agreement. Tanya decided that she rather liked Ruffano’s quick wit: she supposed her husband must have also to share the bar with him. With so much history buzzing in her mind, some fresh blood was a relief.

Well, mostly. The baffling red creature made her explanations as Tox looked back to the book, grateful that the colour of her fur offset any flush of embarrassment. At her level of notoriety, she had been used to articles, pamphlets and discussions around her from the politely respectful to the spiteful and suspicious: never had there been such levels of enthusiasm. However these tales reached the lands this one came from, there must have been some impressive re-interpretations.

She refused to look to the corner, to the dual vixens, and was grateful for the distraction others’ observations provided. “Think I nicked it from the MinoComm treasury,” she chuckled to Jeshal, eyeing the drawing. The feather seemed almost as large as her brush. “I remember there was a handsome ol' Minister there who liked feathers in his hat. Maybe I’ll have to go buy him a new one, eh? Something befittin’ a beast of culture and all that.”

Turning for a moment to pour herself a decent shot of whatever spirit was closest to paw, she sniffed and smiled at the further illustrations. She probably shouldn’t be joking around this earnest giant, but it was out before she could think on the matter. “Hah, reckon your mam held records for haulin’ the sheets an’ moving the cannons faster’n any other beast. Never saw an officer at the capstan single-pawed but, well, jus’ look at those arms.”

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

Pomodu's eyes widened both at the appreciation from her hero, and again at the mention of a 'mum'. She looked to Caden incredulously, adulation in her gaze. "Youh mata i'su Moun'tai'nu Nuoriskena?" Her eyes widened to the proportions appropriate to the most wildly stylized drawings in her book as she looked over the muscular marten - then, with great reverence, she made a gesture that, in at least half its previous uses, had been responsible for starting wars. "You ah new hero o'f de a'ge!" she declared, eagerness in her voice. "I'su I wui'te youh sutory okay?" She eagerly reached for the quill, pulling out leatherbound journal of her own.

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Despite himself, Caden chuckled at Jeshal and Tanya's antics, then took a drink of his cider. Unfortunately that was when Tanya made her comment about "The Mountain", and he nearly spat out his mouthful. Coughing and laughing, he barely knew what Pomodu was asking of him at first, and he wondered for a moment if he was being insulted. Once he realized her intent, however, he took another swig of cider to try to clear his throat.

"Hero? No, I--" He was cut off by more coughing as he shook his head. "Excuse me. But I'm sorry, I don't think I'm any kind of hero like they were. My story is nowhere near as grand as theirs."

He looked to Tanya, then Jeshal, then the others around them. "Besides, uh, maybe another time would be better? There's quite the audience here, and I wouldn't want to bore them."

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Jeshal would deny it as slander that he had a tinge of a blush at Tanya's compliments. Normally it was nothing out of the ordinary with their banter, but somehow it felt new and fresh now they were back in the Imperium. He had a genuine grin about Skeenie's drawing, and more so with Caden's reactions. The lad seemed a good sort. Jeshal wasn't about to let his guard down but there was silent hope amends could be found between the two families. Had Tanya not been here, he would have tried his paw at manipulating Caden into telling something of his own perspective, however truthful. Dredging up pain in front of her, however, was not on the cards.

"Boring I highly doubt, matey, but another time it can be! And the same goes fer catching up with all me new friends." He looked to Tox. "Now that me dearest wiffling be here, perhaps when she's finished her drink she'd be ready to be on our way, catch each other up on matters physical and ethereal? 'Less she wants ter stay another round?"

His gaze flicked from her to Caden, querying whether she did in fact want a conversation before they returned to their boat.​