Jeshal the Ironclaw
Captain of the BlackShip
Staff member
Officer: Captain (Commander)
Fortuna Survivor
- Character Biography
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(Though started after the Beating Day thread, this is set the day before it, hence Blinky's presence. The Fogeys try to hunt the elusive Giftsgiving Beast whilst the Indigo Platycodon is out and about. Meanwhile, disgraced ex-Captain Anithias Freedom challenges Jeshal the Ironclaw in Satire Square. Starring: Aria F. Nocturne, Monteroy Silver, Blinky, Mint, Frostbite R. Tarrin, Jeshal the Ironclaw, Macavity Ashpaw, Callix Noxi, Anithias Freedom, Julia Freedom, Armina Rogue, Urel, Skyler and Caper)
GIFTSGIVING 1729
First post Dismembre 12, Yr. 1729
Aria F. Nocturne/ Monteroy “Monty” Silver
Giftsgiving Eve was a cold night, the moon obscured by clouds that sprinkled all of Bully Harbor with a fresh drift of snow. Mayor Nocturne was out late that night, as many beasts were, enjoying the festivities that the Ministry of Niceties had put on in Satire Square. Booths were set up all around, selling hot mulled wine and grog, roast chestnuts and all manner of shiny baubles. The small stages lining the square were alive with actors and musicians, tootling and soliloquizing for all their worth. Citizens packed in the square, and many Fogies and Stoatorian Guards could be seen patrolling the area.
Aria, her powers of persuasion amplified by her political position, had wheedled her way onto one of the stages. The rat played a popular carol, "We Three Stoats," on her viola, one paw deftly moving about the strings as her other worked the bow, slowly and smoothly sometimes and sharp and staccato other times. She was good, perhaps not quite on the level of the other three in the string quartet were, but still good.
She had to be.
The set finished, and Aria made her way down off the stage and into the Square for a break. She surveyed the scene, hoping her Fogies would keep it together and not make massive fools of themselves on such an important night. The Minister of Niceties had requested every available Fogey and Guardsbeast to watch the festivities tonight and tomorrow morning, where a gift exchange would take place for all who wished to participate. Many stockings had been hung all around the stone pedestal at the center of the square, upon which a massive fir tree decked in tinsel and all manner of shiny flotsam had been mounted.
The rodent had given all of her available beasts to the task. Save a few...
~
Monty Silver stood in the filthy back room of an abandoned house in the Trenches with a select group of Fogies. They had spent the entire day cleaning up the front room and decorating it for Giftsgiving. A tree and several wrapped packages (in reality, just boxes filled with rocks and other garbage) sat neatly in one corner, and the golden flames in the fireplace flickered merrily.
The ferret watched through a gap in the wall, sighing in annoyance. He wished he could be at the Giftsgiving Festival, but because of the Giftsgiving Bandit, he could not. If he strained his ears enough, he thought he could hear the sounds of Giftsgiving carols from Satire Square.
"So who's this Giftsgiving Bandit again?" one of the Fogies asked, scratching his head.
"Just some git that's been dressing up in a red and white robe and hat. Going around stealing all the presents underneath beasts' trees."
The decoy house had been set up, the front door carelessly unlatched and the curtains thrown wide, which would give the thief an opportunity too irresistible to resist.
Now all they had to do was wait to ambush the thief.
They'd better show up, Monty thought bitterly.
He was really craving some chestnuts.
Blaine “Blinky” Hinkly
In the back room of the Sting House, the Fogey who had played his role in giving a window to Monty's exposition counted the assembly.
"Two, four... We're missin' one."
"Is everybeast's partner accounted for?"
All eyes immediately turned to poor Callix.
For alone in the front room, doing what he did best in an armchair next to the fire, sat Plainclothes Blinky. A mug of eggnog dripped onto the floor from one paw, and half a cookie was stuck to the backside of his other with jam. In fact, an empty jar of the stuff lay just beneath the tree. Some of the jam was flecked about the floor – most if it was flecked across Blinky's face and chest, giving the white-furred stoat the impression that he'd been mauled and bled purple all over himself.
The stoat's left footpaw kicked violently in the air as he gnawed his winter scarf and whimpered about "bootiful female stoaties wearin' nuffin' but 'olly leaves."
Blinky didn't actually know it was Giftsgiving Eve. He didn't know that the next day was Giftsgiving, or that the day after that was Beating Day. All he knew was that he had eaten too much jam and his dreams were being weirder than normal.
He'd never dreamed about stoatmaids riding giant yellow Quibbenesque ducks before.
Must've been the eggnog.
Mint
Mint had started this Giftsgiving tradition years ago. It had begun as a joke between herself and her friends in the Ministry of Innovation, and only in the past several years had ballooned to something altogether more criminal. Yet the risk involved only served to make it all the more fun. Besides, she couldn't be on the job all the time. May as well put her skills to personal use
The little rattess, decked out in her red and white robe and hat, slipped down the chimney of a condo in the Imperial Barracks section of the Harbor. She peeked out, making sure that nobeast was in the room before lowering herself into the empty grate. Mint scampered over to the tree, dragging a smallish-sized empty bag behind her. She quickly began to stuff the presents from beneath the tree into her bag.
Pawsteps from the hallway adjoining the room quickly brought her head up. There was somebeast coming, carrying a candle. She threw one more present in the, then tossed the bag over her shoulder. About half of the presents were gone from beneath the tree.
"Hey, what do yeh think yer doin'?!"
But the rattess was already gone, up the chimney and out onto the rooftop. Another bag, larger and half-full, waited for her. She emptied the smaller bag into the larger before sliding down the snowy rooftop, bag held in her tail. Upon reaching the gutter, Mint tossed the bag to the next roof with a clatter, and then followed it, leaping across and catching the bag before it slid down into the alley below.
Her breath puffed in front of her on the chilly night as she made her way onto the rooftops of the Trenches.
Frostbite R. Tarrin
For the first time in his life, Frostbite felt dignified in what he was wearing. The white ferret had found an amazingly stunning red suit and matching limp red cap from Port Products. He felt absolutely dashingly energetic. He disregarded the fact that he looked much like the candied canes that were being handed out at the festivities below.
Frostbite comforted himself by laying stomach down on a roof near the Giftsgiving Eve party and keeping a lookout on the ruffians keenly eyeing the snack bar. One false move, and he'd pop them with a slingshot he'd found earlier that day. He forgot to bring ammo with him, but he found that if snow was packed tightly together in a ball, it did just as well, and was quite plentiful from his rooftop perch.
Jeshal the Ironclaw/Macavity Ashpaw
‘Twas the night before Giftsgiving and the Ironclaw had not long since returned from his first campaign plan of stealing presents and goodies from woodlander villages. Having seen all the novelties that their societies had to offer he was feeling in a surprisingly generous mood and decided to pay a visit to the Square and seek out the stockings of those he had met and perhaps even those yet to meet. Toffed up in his improved black frockcoat with the Golden Hide buttons on the cuffs, peacock-feathered cavalier donned, he glided into town with a large, black attaché case.
The copper fox saluted to every beast he passed, accidentally making one kit cry and two others laugh with his grin. At last he arrived at the pedestal. He took a moment to admire the tree, to take in the strong scent of the fir, and then began to read the labels on the stockings. Undoing the latch on his case, he distributed his gifts accordingly:
To Anithias he donated a coupon for purchasing a free night’s drinking at the Bilge – no time like the present for the todd to take up alcoholism, not that he would realise the malice behind it. For his wife and kits; a bottle of wine and some sherbet candies – to add to the insanity of the Freedom family day; and to Armina he gave a bottle of Garlic’n’Go breath spray for warding off unwanted males. Harlgren had a stocking, too, and even though Jeshal was uncertain of the next time they would meet, he gave a candy eyeball he had saved since Halloween. He hoped the sick humour would be received in good taste.
For Enguil, Jeshal had bought a white chocolate mouse – he couldn’t find a ferret; for Rynn, a recipe book; for Xhavek, a puzzle box called a ‘Survival cube’, which snapped at your hands if you didn’t take the correct step to solving it – the monitor’s sadistic mind might appreciate the gesture; for Brek, a diary for his duties, each month with a sickeningly encouraging poem at its start; for Tomias, a plain but well-cut shirt made from red-dyed cotton – he felt sure there was some irony in the gift, even if it was just to hide any injuries that Redford’s insubordinance won him.
To Blinky, who had briefly been a part of the crew, he slipped in some air freshener – the fool would probably drink it anyway; for captains Zilaco and Frostbite, a bottle of fine sherry; for Ladorak, a silk cravat; to Molly, a pair of brass slippers – surely she’d come up with a use for those; to Sorrona Ashpaw, a special ring with a compartment for keeping antidotes; to her cousin, Macavity, a box of chocolates with a ‘Thank You’ note that would no doubt rile the young wildcat into throwing them out of the window; to Lindsay, and Wanderpaw, a silken handkerchief each – secretly to mock how wet they were; to Sokea, an assortment of flowers for her to smell – what? He didn’t have to be cruel to everyone.
For Kiptooth, some entertaining, squeezy stress-balls; for new recruit Quilane, a leather-bound journal – if this beast ended up dead one day, Jeshal wouldn’t have minded a nosey into his personal life should he be permitted to confiscate his belongings; for Fireeyes, not that anyone expected her to surface, a black scarf; for Padraig, a box of matches with the attached message “not on my ship”.
He had saved the Ryalors for last. Into the kits’ stockings he placed a bag each of candied chestnuts, clearly stating whom they were from. For the admiral herself, the Ironclaw put in a collection of powder paints and dyes wrapped with a bow. It was doubtful she had forgotten the fun she had had that night painting the fur of her whole crew as they slept. That was the labelled gift. Ensuring no beast saw him, Jeshal used his claw to lift out a rose, dyed black with ink, from his case. Allowing neither scent nor mark that would indicate the giver to taint it, he slid the flower into Tanya’s stocking.
To every other beast he gave a pawful of sweets and hurried on his way. In not too soon a time either, for Macavity Ashpaw had just entered the Square and begun his outrageous display of foolery.
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Macavity danced about the Square as jolly a cat as could be. The little grey tabby, full with eggnog, beamed at the dazzling scene and shook paws with every stranger and friend he accosted. It was fortunate he did not cause the tree to topple in his excited meanderings.
“What ho, beasts of Bully! Pip, pip, ding-dang the merry-o, wot-wot?” he bellowed in hare-speak. “Merry flippin’ Giftsgiving! I love Giftsgiving, want to know why, sir, madam? Because it’s full of that awful, terrible, beautiful emotion us vermin say we hate but secretly like to have a grand old time with… and what’s that?”
He launched upon a stage and danced about with an unwitting actor.
“That’s right, folks, it’s L-O-V-Eeeeeee!” The unlucky weaselmaid was sent spinning into the curtains at the back. “Whoops! Sorry sweetheart!” Maccy shrugged and scampered from act to act, applauding and cheering. He sang raucously, but at least tunefully, along with the carols.
Ashpaw winked at every lady cat he could, giving them an additional blown kiss, before at last he hurled himself before the Mayor in all his drunken, military regalia.
“And here’s the beast who made it all happen! Bravo, madam, splendid! Oh, brilliant, brilliant!” He clapped loudly just in front of her whiskers and then gave a dramatic sigh. “Don’t you just love this time of year?”
Aria F. Nocturne/ Monteroy “Monty” Silver
Aria tittered as she wisely took a short step backward from the drunken cat. "Oh, well, it was technically the Minister of Niceties that organized it, but they're so busy of late that they weren't even able to make it. I have done an awful lot, haven't I?"
It was true, she had. She'd overseen the decorating of the tree and the hanging of the stockings, as well as making sure her Fogies stayed on task.
She looked around at all the soft, powdery snow floating to earth, smiling as an extra large flake settled on her nose.
"It is indeed a lovely time of year."
~
"Oh, of all the..." Commissioner Silver growled, then sharply barked, "HINKLY!"
The grey ferret stormed out, grabbed the stoat's nearest appendage, and pulled him straight out of his chair. As he roughly dragged Blinky into the back room, he muttered, "Why did I even bring you along? I'm going to give you the tanning of your life later, Cadet! You too, Noxi! Imagine if the Giftsgiving Bandit came down the... the chimney..."
Wait, that wasn't right. Why had they lit a fire in the fireplace? Of course the Bandit wouldn't come that way, unless they enjoyed roasting their own tail.
"Hinkly!" Silver commanded. "Go put that fire in the fireplace out, pronto! ...Right away?" he added, at the blank stare he was receiving.
Callix Noxi
There had been an awful lot of strained shouting occurring in the lizard constable's general direction, which was rather distressing when she considered herself to be a reasonably apt guard. Callix was strongly beginning to suspect that this treatment was something to do with her partner.
The monitor stood to attention and tried to explain her point of view to Silver.
"Zorriez, zir, I vas led to believe Cadet Hinkly vas acting az bait for the Bandit. Perhapz if ve are lucky, the Bandit vill zteal him and then..." Her eyes gleamed at what she considered to be a genius work of conception. "Then ve vould follow the trail of jam, zir."
Blaine “Blinky” Hinkly
Blinky awoke to find himself being hauled about by his tail (it having been the closest appendage within Monty's reach.) He was not confused by this so much as he was confused about why he could taste pepper on the roof of his mouth.
There wasn't any actual significance to this. It was just something odd.
"I lurve ye, too, 'missioner," the stoat mumbled as the ferret dropped his rump on the ground. Blinky sat up and tried to see if there was any eggnog left in his mug. There wasn't. Or maybe there was, except his mug was gone. "Oaw."
"Hinkly! Go put that fire in the fireplace out, pronto! ...Right away?"
"Oh!"
Blinky stood up, wobbled slightly, fell down again, and then decided to crawl back. This was a bit unfair, he thought. Why drag him all the way back here to do something he'd have to do in another room? That was just mean.
"Pur th'fire ou'," he repeated. "Righ'. Whurr's th'fire. There's th'fire. Whurr's th'ou'? Got no ou'. Oh." There was his mug. Eggnog was a liquid, right? ... right!
Blinky threw the eggnog on the fire.
The fire, not very happy with having eggnog with an alcohol content of 80% thrown at it, exploded somewhat violently. Blinky's whiskers curled, black at the tips.
What else put out fires? Dirt. Where could he find a lot of dirt? Besides himself. His blanky! And weren't blankets used to put out small fires as well? They were!
The fire died before Blinky's blanky could even get near it. It had decided to take its own life. This baffled the stoat somewhat, but he shrugged it off. Then he spotted something he decided was very important.
He practically ran back to the back room - which is to say he ambled at his normal pace, just without stopping to remember which direction he was headed in - waving the evidence of the Giftsgiving Bandit's presence at the rest of the Fogeys.
"Look! Look! I foun' a clue!"
Somebeast sighed.
"That's not a clue, Blinky, that's your jar of jam."
"Jam!" Blinky burbled, beaming.
Anithias Freedom/Julia Freedom/Armina Rogue/Urel
Snowflakes darted through the air, coating all the world with soft powder. Fir trees had been dragged down from the mountains and set up in the Square, bedazzled with brilliant paw-blown orbs and tiny candles set in glass cups. Beasts bedecked in scarves and shawls, top hats and bonnets, coats and coverings, all walked about the Square, chatting merrily and calling out "Happy Giftsgiving!" to their neighbors as they passed. A small group of carolers walked about the Square, calling out a fast, breathy rendition of "Once in Royal Mar'kan's City". It was, in many ways, an idyllic setting.
Chink!
"Another."
A bottle of amber liquid hovered above shot glass, pouring some of its contents into the tiny cup. A golden paw scooped up the glass, knocking it back into a fox's maw. The glass slammed down on the counter again. "Another."
The bartender hesitated. "Sir," he said carefully, "you have already had seven. For your safety, perhaps it would be best if-"
"Another, blast ye!" the fox barked, leaning on the ale booth as he turned to examine his settings. Bleary eyes traveled over the crowds, barely taking them in. "Look at them," he sighed mournfully. "Goin' about their lives as if nothin' happened. Actin' as if I did nothin' for them." He allowed his gaze to linger for another second before turning back to the bartender. "Well, what are ye waitin' for? Another!" Hurriedly the bartender poured the fox's eighth.
The fox knocked it back, sighing as he set it on the counter. He didn't hear the swift crunch of footpaws on snow behind him. He only became aware of the beast's presence when a pair of paws seized him by the shoulders and whirled him around on the stool. The motion was nearly enough to upset the fox from his perch.
"Nithy!" a femme shrieked, her voice boiling over with rage. "What are you- how dare you-"
Anithias squinted up at his assailant. He could barely make out wavy red locks of his wife. "Leave me 'lone, Jewel," he slurred, swaying slightly in his seat. He attempted to turn back to his ale, but the femme yanked him straight back around.
"Oh, no you don't," she said firmly, seizing her husband by his lapels. "You are going straight home, where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don't make a fool of yourself!"
"'Ey, 'ey, ey, lemme alone!" Anithias hollered, batting his wife's paws away. He turned back to the bar, hunching over his drink. "Miserable old hag," he muttered.
Slap!
A sharp blow hit Anithias upside the head. Before he knew what was happening he found himself lying on his side in the snow. A quavering sob sounded from above him before being silenced. When Julia spoke, her voice was shrill and shaking. "Fine. Fine. Stay here, you drunken sod. But remember this: you were my husband before you were captain. You were a father before you were captain! And I will not let you ruin your children's lives because of your own mistakes!"
A furious crunching of snow announced her departure, the pawfalls receding into the distance. With great effort Anithias pulled himself from his resting place, hauling himself onto the barstool. He stared after the retreating form of his wife before turning back. "'Gates..." he muttered, leaning on the booth. "Wha'm I doin', Tom?"
"I believe you're wasting your life, sir."
"Yeah, yer probably right." Anithias stared blearily about him. "I've gotta get out of this town, Tom."
"If I may, sir, perhaps it would be best to return to your wife first."
"Nah, she'll do fine." The drunken captain's attention was drawn by a copper fox moving swiftly out of the Square. "Hold tha' bottle for me..." he murmured, rising from his stool. Snow crunched under his footpaws as he followed the figure in the frockcoat, swiftly closing the distance between them. Anithias' reasoning mind was not functioning at this point; he was merely intent on relieving some of the anger pent up inside himself.
"Oi, Ironclaw!" he bellowed as he caught up with the figure. Pulling back his paw, Anithias lunged at Jeshal's face.
He missed. Anithias flailed for a second before falling into a snowdrift some three feet from his target. The drunken ex-captain stirred once before subsiding into a stupor at the footpaws of his successor.
-------------------------------------------------------
Armina was not very happy for a variety of reasons. The first was that she had been excluded from the sting itself. This was much to her chagrin; several of the paperpushers at headquarters had been teasing that a femme like her couldn't possibly catch the notorious Giftsgiving Bandit. Armina was sure that they'd make her pay the twenty gilders she'd bet on that arrangement. The second reason was that she'd been stuck on reconnaissance duty. Armina hated reconnaissance; it was the most boring assignment on the force, and she was sure she'd been assigned to it as payback for spilling tea on Sergeant Starling's blouse.
The third reason was the manner in which she was serving reconnaissance.
Armina blew the pom-pom away from her face and dully shook her bell. A tiny clattering rang out among the festivities, calling for beasts near and far to come donate their hard-earned gilders. Beside Armina hung a red collection pail. Above it hung a sign for the Mercy Brigade, a charitable foundation created by a long-dead philanthropist who really hadn't been that nice a person anyway. No one was really sure what the Mercy Brigade did, except that they commonly hustled beggars off the street and into thrift shops, where they were forced to buy clothing no one really wanted at prices they weren't really worth.
Armina rung her bell again, calling out her slogan in a dull monotone. "Give to the Mercy Brigade – help your fellow creatures in need. Ah, thank you sir!" she added, brightening as a passing beast dropped a small object into the pail. Eager to see her earnings, Armina scraped the small disk from the pail.
It was a tiny yellow button. "Oi!" she hollered, storming after the faux donator. "This is a swillin' button!" In a fit of anger she tossed the button at him. It bounced harmlessly off his back. "Fine!" she hollered, storming after him for a few feet before allowing him to retreat. "I hope you BURN!" she yelled, shaking her paw at him. In a huff she returned to her collection pail, throwing in her ridiculous red hat before slumping against the wall in a mood.
A set of heavy footpaws signaled the approach of a beast. Constable Urel, decked in red hat and fake beard, looked into her collection pot once before standing next to her. "I see you have mastered the art of goodwill toward all beasts," he observed. He pulled a ginger snap from his pocket, chewing on it thoughtfully. A tradition had arisen from the legend of the Giftsgiving Bandit: often around Giftsgiving time, citizens would dress up as the Bandit and parade around the streets. Children would hold out small presents or tokens and try to coax the fake Bandit into trying to snatch the presents, often leading to fun chases through the streets as the Bandit attempted to steal the offered gifts. Urel had been fulfilling this role around the Trenches, to some moderate success.
Armina merely looked away in response to Urel's greetings. Concern entered Urel's eyes as he watched the young cadet. "What is wrong?" he inquired, no longer chewing on the ginger snap.
Armina let out a brief "Grrrr!" of frustration, pacing in front of the collection tin. Slowly she held her paws out by her hips, trying to calm her raging emotions. "Sorry, it wasn't you," she apologized. "I'm just... I'm sick of being stuck with a dead-end ship and a dead-end job!" She kicked at the snow, sending a brief flurry of powder along the street. Storm clouds brewed on her visage as she watched the beasts in the Square. "I don't want to be stuck as the little back-up girl," she confessed. "I want to do something important. And honestly, I made more difference in the mob than I've ever done here."
Urel inclined his head in her direction. "Perhaps they are merely waiting to appraise your talents," he suggested. Armina merely gave a noncommittal "Hmph". Silence reigned between them, weighed down by the fall of snow upon them and their surroundings. At last Urel tentatively offered, "If you wish, I can recommend to Commissioner Silver that you be moved inside."
Armina laughed hollowly. "Good luck with that," she scoffed. She glanced up at the sky. "You'd best be going," she advised.
Urel nodded once. "Good luck, Ms. Rogue," he bade her gravely before setting out on his rounds.
It didn't take long to reach the Sting House. On his way he passed Jeb, who was running a dilapidated stand offering thorn bush wreathes: "Guaranteed to Keep Away the Giftsgiving Bandit" the sign advertised. It didn't appear that he was receiving much business. Shaking the snow off his boots, Urel pushed open the back door to the Sting House.
Several Fogies started from their chairs as Urel entered the old dining room. "Peace!" he called, pulling his fake beard down below his chin. "It is I." Several of the Fogies relaxed, though a few muttered something about heart attacks.
The sting did not appear to be going quite according to plan. Commissioner Silver was telling off Callix for something, though Urel did not catch what, and soon Blinky entered the room, proclaiming a pot of jam to be important evidence. Several of the Fogies groaned in exasperation, correcting the stoat almost half-heartedly.
Despite it being an undoubtedly poor time to enter the conversation, Urel cleared his throat. "Begging your pardon, Commissioner," he rumbled, "but all three reconnaissance points report no sign of the Bandit. If they're around here, they're showing no sign of it. Oh," he added, "and Cadet Rogue requests a transfer to the capture team."
Frostbite R. Tarrin
"Buff ruffufffin!" came muffled voices from the building underneath him in a loud and unpleasant manner. He couldn't tell who was speaking it, but he could definitely sense some frustration. He glanced back at the pre-Giftsgiving procession to make sure there was nothing immediately in demand of attention, then walked over to the chimney to get a better earful of the conversations. He peered intently into the blackness.
*WHOOSH!*
Soot blew upwards at an alarming rate – a rate which didn't alarm Frostbite quickly enough. He pulled his face back from the opening and coughed wildly in all directions, rubbing his eyes and snout with his paws. He looked down. They were pitch black. He patted his paws together furiously trying to see some white, but to no avail. He grunted and began making his way off the roof. Perhaps he should wash off before someone mistook him for...
"IT'S THE BANDIT!" came a yell. Frostbite looked in the direction the beast was pointing, trying to discern something until his ladder came tumbling over with a crash. The soot-coated ferret somersaulted onto his feet and took off in a mad dash. "STOP! IT'S ME!" he yelled back.
Skyler
A snowmarten shifted slightly. The carrot nose fell off, and the fishhead ears were next to drop.
Skyler twitched snow off his whiskers and crept forward, toward the display of stockings in the middle of the square. With everybeast focused on capturing the bandit, he was free...
Working quickly, the stripling pine marten grabbed loot out of random stockings, found where he'd hung his own up, and shoved it all in. He was mildly disappointed to find that apart from some coffee beans someone from the BlackShip had put in, there was not anything else already in his stocking. Well. This would show them! Two more pawfuls would stuff it to the brim, and then he could go back to playing with the rest of the kits, maybe make little Fiddle Dirtsocks the rat be the next model for their snowbeast...
Skyler grinned hugely as he shifted loot from the stockings. Giftsgiving had always been his favourite. Ever since last year, in fact. The Giftsgivings before that ... not so much. But last year! Last year had been spectacular.
Standing back to admire his bursting stocking, Skyler nodded.
"'Appy anniversary, mum an' da!" He chortled, bending down to scoop up some street slurry into a snowball.
He wondered if there was any frozen hobo corpse he could use this year.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver
"He'll be here," Monty said. "Or she, I s'pose. Never can tell these days. Tell Cadet Rogue she's welcome to come. I don't know how I got stuck with such an... interesting bunch in the first place." He glanced at Blinky as he spoke.
There was a cry from outside. "IT'S THE BANDIT!"
Monty dashed out the back door and watched as a couple of Fogies chased a soot-covered creature down the street.
"STOP! IT'S ME!" it yelled. There was something very familiar about that voice. Another glance at the creature's clothing confirmed his identity.
"Everybeast, halt!" Monty roared. "That's an order!"
The Commissioner couldn't decide if his Fogies were giving him a bigger headache or stomachache. The ferret rubbed at his temples furiously, trying to keep his voice calm.
"If you are on the sting operation, get your miserable tails inside and hope to Mar'kan you haven't ruined any chances of us catching the Bandit. If you're not, get out of here. Honestly..."
The ferret snapped the door shut behind him.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
No longer able to make quite as good the sneaky exit as before his promotion, Jeshal’s ears flicked at the sound of a familiar, yet slurred voice, yelling out his name. He turned on the spot at the very moment a drunken Freedom’s paw missed connecting with his face and watched as the golden fox teetered about and flopped into the snow. Anithias’s nose lay barely an inch from the Ironclaw’s boots. The nippy weather had called for a change from his sandals.
Jeshal sneered down at the fallen todd. Apparently his choice of gift had been more suitable than he had thought. “Yer offerin’ o’ respect be touchin’, Freedom. There be no cause ter bow, even if it be true that I be the better beast.” The copper fox smiled, which was at least preferable to showing pity. “I liked ye, ’Nith. Ye were a strong-willed, loyal captain, an’ ye were a fine strategist. Never lost any o’ the vermin what mattered out on the raids. Yer a bleedin’ paragon, matey. Shinin’ beacon what ‘eld the ‘earts of ‘is crew in ‘is paws. But do ye want ter know where it is ye went wrong? Truly?”
The Ironclaw put down his attaché case and began to pace around his bleary-eyed forerunner. All at once he decided to play a more callous card. It wasn’t as though anyone would be able to follow up Freedom’s claims. Jeshal could have been a pink heffalump to the sozzled beast this night as far as any court was concerned.
“Ye lacked flexibility. Ye needed ter distribute the weight o’ the world before it chose ter crush ye. ‘Gates, ye’re a Navy beast, Freedom, an’ ye never learned ter take a feint, ter back down, or accept ‘elp from anyone. What good did it do ye, says I? Lost ye yer crew, yer ship, yer dignity…I be takin’ a guess that yer sweet’eart Mrs Freedom ain’t fond o’ the new you.” He smirked. “But as fer me, allow me ter offer me profound thanks. ‘Tis on account o’ ye that I be where I be today. Ye gave me access ter what I ‘ave been waitin’ fer fer so many a year.”
Arriving back at the place where Anithias’s head rested, Jeshal lowered into a crouch. He whispered into the golden fox’s ear, “Ye prob’ly always wondered why it is I signed up. An’ on Giftsgiving Eve, what better time ter tell ye the sweet tune o’ me thoughts? I never wanted the Hide, Freedom. I never wanted ter serve yer precious Imperium. I never wanted this power, but now it be mine I ain’t one ter complain. Nay, ‘Nith, an’ let it be said I couldn’ ‘ave done it without yer gen’rous action o’ stepping down.”
Jeshal grinned his horrible, beautiful grin. “It be all about her.”
The copper todd flicked Anithias’s ear mockingly with a metal claw. “Seasons greetin’s, matey o’ mine,” he growled mirthfully, then, without a further word, he snatched up the empty case and stole out of the Square.
Mint/Caper
Mint blinked at the small explosion and column of smoke that erupted from a chimney several buildings away from her. She adjusted her red cap, wondering what somebeast could have thrown in their fireplace to make such an explosion. Perhaps they were a relative of former Minister of War Sleet?
Without further thought, the rattess was down another chimney.
*
"Oi, Caper, you look proper fearsome, you do."
"Sharrup, Gilly, don' call me tha' when I'm dressed up like this. I'm th' Indigo Platycodon, remember?"
Gilly, a smallish weasel nearing his teens, looked abashedly up at the dark-clad fox who was leaning out the window of the dark abandoned apartment room they were in.
"Oh, right. Sorry Cap-...ah, Platycodon."
The tall, lanky fox turned around, his eyes shining out from beneath his black mask. A cutlass was thrust in his belt along with two knives. His footpaws were bare and his scruffy brush emerged from a pair of patched black trousers. He flashed a scraggly-toothed grin at the weasel.
"S'ok. Jes' don' go blabbin' t'everybeast 'bout this, alrigh'? Th'fewer who know, th' better. We don' wan' Ol' 'Ammer'ead's gang findin' out 'bout this."
"H'oh no," Gilly shook his head fervently. "Hammerhead'll get us fer sure if'n he finds out."
"Tha's righ'. Now, you go down wi' th'rest o'our gang an' work tha' Giftsgivin' party. I'll keep watch from th'rooftops an' make sure nobeast tries t'rough you up. If'n they do...Well, they'll remember why they used t'be afraid o' 'urtin' us urchins."
The masked fox swung out from the window and climbed upwards to the rooftop. He made his way towards the Trenches and the Giftsgiving festivities.
*
Mint was making her way across the Trenches, nearing the house with the oddly explosive chimney. There was no more soot belching forth from it, and her curious nature was beginning to get the better of her.
She sensed somebeast behind her and turned to see a fox, clad in scruffy black clothes and wearing a mask upon his face, crouched on the peak of the roof. The rattess was below him, her loot bag over her shoulder as she prepared to jump to the next house. She cocked her head curiously at the beast. He slid down the roof, stopping beside her.
"Imp!" the fox said jovially. "'Appy Giftsgivin' t'you! I see yer up t'yer usual."
The rattess nodded, flashing the slightest of smiles. So this is what Caper and his gang had been so sneaky about recently. Starting the Platycodon stint again by the looks of it. She only hoped that the young fox's mind was more stable than that of the previous vigilante of the same name.
Before the todd could say much else, the rattess had vaulted to the rooftop of the house with the exploding chimney. Caper waved at her retreating form.
"'Ave a good nigh', miss, or marm, or whate'er you are!"
Mint ignored him, skittering across the roof to the chimney. She peered down it. No sign of flames. Whatever it was that had caused the explosion was gone now.
It was but the work of a moment for the rattess to slide down the chimney, making sure to avoid touching her bright red garments to the sooty walls. Such red clothing was rather expensive, and she was a very frugal beast after all.
The rattess dropped into the fireplace grate, staring outwards, feeling her heart suddenly begin to race. The Fogies in the room stared back at her for a moment.
"Bloody 'Gates," she muttered darkly.
Blaine “Blinky” Hinkly
Surprisingly, it was Blinky who was the first of the Fogies to react to their present in the fireplace.
"I told ye th'jam wos a clue," he said, sounding rather hurt that nobeast had believed him.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver
After the initial shock of the Bandit's arrival and Blinky's not so shocking revelation, Monty's eyes narrowed in recognition of the rat.
I should've known...
"Get her! Get the Bandit! Block off the chimney and all exits!"
The ferret lunged, truncheon swinging.
Callix Noxi
Constable Noxi was the first to dash for the front door. Making her stance as wide as possible, she used her body to barricade it. Her posture was akin to a raptor, teeth grinning, tail swishing.
"She von't get pazt me, zir!" the monitor rasped, perhaps a little overconfidently.
Blaine “Blinky” Hinkly
"Or me!" Blinky yelped, throwing himself bodily into the center of the living room, where he lay splayed out like a zebra rug - the only difference being that the black stripes had been replaced by red-purple.
The stoat oomphed as he hit the ground, then stretched luxuriously before putting his head down to rest, thoroughly content in the knowledge that his presence alone would deter most anybeast from trying to cross paths. In this he was somewhat right, as the rest of the Fogeys slid along the walls toward the fireplace.
Blinky closed his eyes and began to lick at a jam stain on the carpet.
Mint
Mint looked up. The flue of the chimney was too far for her to reach, and she wasn't going to have time to scramble upwards, as the Fogies were descending upon her.
Baring her teeth, the rattess flung her sack of stolen goods at the nearest attacking Fogey, then darted into the room from the fireplace grate. At that moment Blinky threw himself on the floor and Mint stumbled over him, falling head over tail.
She was up again, recovering from the tumble. But then somebeast had a hold of her tail, and another had a hold of her footpaw. She kicked viciously, catching one of the Fogies in the face with her sharp, grimy claws. Then she dove at the one who had her tail, scratching and biting at their face for all she was worth, a hissing screech emanating from her mouth as she attacked.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver
Monty staggered back. The little monster had kicked him in the face. The ferret shook his head to clear it, sending several droplets of blood scattering to the floor as he did so. By the time he worked out what was going on, the robe-toting Imp was savagely attacking another Fogey.
The Commissioner lunged forward again, this time grabbing the Bandit by the collar of her robe and yanking her upward, off the unfortunate beast.
"Got you!" he laughed triumphantly.
Mint/Caper
Mint coughed and spluttered as the collar of her robe dug into her windpipe. Her paws went to her throat as she tried to pull the clothing away so that she could breath, but to no avail. The rat lashed out desperately with her tail in an attempt to break the grip of the beast who had her from behind. In her air-deprived, foggy mind, she thought she felt her wildly flailing limb connect with something, but she was not sure.
*
Outside on the rooftops, Caper heard the commotion from inside the house that the Imp had just entered. He jumped to the roof and ran to the chimney, peering down into it. The shouts and voices rang loud and clear.
"Got you!"
Caper's ears flattened. Was somebeast trying to harm Mint? Though he had never heard the rattess speak, Caper had always felt a sort of friendship towards the Imp. She had helped him get out of tight fixes on numerous occasions over the years, and he could not remember a time in his life when she was not around.
The young todd vaulted into the chimney and slid down, landing in the grate and tumbling outwards into the fray, slamming directly into the ferret who had a hold on Mint.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver
Monty's breath left him in an "Oof!" as the fox materialized from seemingly nowhere and slammed into him. The ferret instinctively let go of Mint as he fell to the floor, hissing breathless curses. He gasped for breath, trying to issue orders to his Fogies, but the wind had been knocked completely out of him.
Caper
Caper was up first, grabbing the red-robed rattess by the base of the tail as she wheezed for air.
"Come on, Imp, let's get outta here!"
The todd half-dragged her as he scrambled from the room, bulling through one Fogey on his way to the front door. Behind him, the other Fogies were barreling out of the room, hot on his scraggly brush of a tail. Mint yanked herself out of his grasp, flashing Caper a grin.
They both skittered to a halt upon seeing a monitor blocking the exit. Mint dashed to the side, her claws clasping Caper's paw. The todd followed her into the next room. Without hesitation, Mint threw herself through the side window, her head ducked down as she tumbled outside. Caper followed suit, his dark clothing tearing on the broken glass.
The rattess was already sprinting down the road by the time he was on his footpaws. Caper took off in the opposite direction, hoping that splitting up the Fogies would give both Mint and himself a better chance at escaping.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver/Aria F. Nocturne
Although Monty was generally a fairly jovial beast, as soon as his voice returned he screamed himself hoarse at the Fogies and their incompetence at letting the Giftsgiving Bandit escape, and then, once he was tired of that, he sank into the decoy armchair, grimacing as his paw settled in something sticky. Probably jam.
"Well, this news will be a fantastic Giftsgiving present to Madam Nocturne, won't it?" He actually chuckled, trying not to think about the morrow.
~
The morning dawned with a faint dusting of snow still sprinkling down. After spending time with their families, beasts gathered in Satire Square for the gift exchange.
As it turned out, the Mayor was far too occupied with the festivities that she waved the Commissioner away.
"Who now? Oh, the Bandit. Well, sorry it didn't work out. I suppose there's always next year, yes? Here, have some egg nog."
"But Madam Mayor, the Bandit... it was the one they call the Mint Imp."
Aria's cup slipped from her paws, shattering on the frozen ground, its eggy contents seeping into the snow. The rat remembered all the trouble the Imp had caused at the Fogey prison. The sheer insolence of the beast! How dare she try to ruin Giftsgiving?
"Get me my stocking and another egg nog," she said through gritted teeth. "It's Giftsgiving. We are here to enjoy ourselves."
As Monty turned to leave, Aria said, "Oh, and Commissioner?"
"Yes?"
"A couple glasses of mulled wine as well. I will need them."
GIFTSGIVING 1729
First post Dismembre 12, Yr. 1729
Aria F. Nocturne/ Monteroy “Monty” Silver
Giftsgiving Eve was a cold night, the moon obscured by clouds that sprinkled all of Bully Harbor with a fresh drift of snow. Mayor Nocturne was out late that night, as many beasts were, enjoying the festivities that the Ministry of Niceties had put on in Satire Square. Booths were set up all around, selling hot mulled wine and grog, roast chestnuts and all manner of shiny baubles. The small stages lining the square were alive with actors and musicians, tootling and soliloquizing for all their worth. Citizens packed in the square, and many Fogies and Stoatorian Guards could be seen patrolling the area.
Aria, her powers of persuasion amplified by her political position, had wheedled her way onto one of the stages. The rat played a popular carol, "We Three Stoats," on her viola, one paw deftly moving about the strings as her other worked the bow, slowly and smoothly sometimes and sharp and staccato other times. She was good, perhaps not quite on the level of the other three in the string quartet were, but still good.
She had to be.
The set finished, and Aria made her way down off the stage and into the Square for a break. She surveyed the scene, hoping her Fogies would keep it together and not make massive fools of themselves on such an important night. The Minister of Niceties had requested every available Fogey and Guardsbeast to watch the festivities tonight and tomorrow morning, where a gift exchange would take place for all who wished to participate. Many stockings had been hung all around the stone pedestal at the center of the square, upon which a massive fir tree decked in tinsel and all manner of shiny flotsam had been mounted.
The rodent had given all of her available beasts to the task. Save a few...
~
Monty Silver stood in the filthy back room of an abandoned house in the Trenches with a select group of Fogies. They had spent the entire day cleaning up the front room and decorating it for Giftsgiving. A tree and several wrapped packages (in reality, just boxes filled with rocks and other garbage) sat neatly in one corner, and the golden flames in the fireplace flickered merrily.
The ferret watched through a gap in the wall, sighing in annoyance. He wished he could be at the Giftsgiving Festival, but because of the Giftsgiving Bandit, he could not. If he strained his ears enough, he thought he could hear the sounds of Giftsgiving carols from Satire Square.
"So who's this Giftsgiving Bandit again?" one of the Fogies asked, scratching his head.
"Just some git that's been dressing up in a red and white robe and hat. Going around stealing all the presents underneath beasts' trees."
The decoy house had been set up, the front door carelessly unlatched and the curtains thrown wide, which would give the thief an opportunity too irresistible to resist.
Now all they had to do was wait to ambush the thief.
They'd better show up, Monty thought bitterly.
He was really craving some chestnuts.
Blaine “Blinky” Hinkly
In the back room of the Sting House, the Fogey who had played his role in giving a window to Monty's exposition counted the assembly.
"Two, four... We're missin' one."
"Is everybeast's partner accounted for?"
All eyes immediately turned to poor Callix.
For alone in the front room, doing what he did best in an armchair next to the fire, sat Plainclothes Blinky. A mug of eggnog dripped onto the floor from one paw, and half a cookie was stuck to the backside of his other with jam. In fact, an empty jar of the stuff lay just beneath the tree. Some of the jam was flecked about the floor – most if it was flecked across Blinky's face and chest, giving the white-furred stoat the impression that he'd been mauled and bled purple all over himself.
The stoat's left footpaw kicked violently in the air as he gnawed his winter scarf and whimpered about "bootiful female stoaties wearin' nuffin' but 'olly leaves."
Blinky didn't actually know it was Giftsgiving Eve. He didn't know that the next day was Giftsgiving, or that the day after that was Beating Day. All he knew was that he had eaten too much jam and his dreams were being weirder than normal.
He'd never dreamed about stoatmaids riding giant yellow Quibbenesque ducks before.
Must've been the eggnog.
Mint
Mint had started this Giftsgiving tradition years ago. It had begun as a joke between herself and her friends in the Ministry of Innovation, and only in the past several years had ballooned to something altogether more criminal. Yet the risk involved only served to make it all the more fun. Besides, she couldn't be on the job all the time. May as well put her skills to personal use
The little rattess, decked out in her red and white robe and hat, slipped down the chimney of a condo in the Imperial Barracks section of the Harbor. She peeked out, making sure that nobeast was in the room before lowering herself into the empty grate. Mint scampered over to the tree, dragging a smallish-sized empty bag behind her. She quickly began to stuff the presents from beneath the tree into her bag.
Pawsteps from the hallway adjoining the room quickly brought her head up. There was somebeast coming, carrying a candle. She threw one more present in the, then tossed the bag over her shoulder. About half of the presents were gone from beneath the tree.
"Hey, what do yeh think yer doin'?!"
But the rattess was already gone, up the chimney and out onto the rooftop. Another bag, larger and half-full, waited for her. She emptied the smaller bag into the larger before sliding down the snowy rooftop, bag held in her tail. Upon reaching the gutter, Mint tossed the bag to the next roof with a clatter, and then followed it, leaping across and catching the bag before it slid down into the alley below.
Her breath puffed in front of her on the chilly night as she made her way onto the rooftops of the Trenches.
Frostbite R. Tarrin
For the first time in his life, Frostbite felt dignified in what he was wearing. The white ferret had found an amazingly stunning red suit and matching limp red cap from Port Products. He felt absolutely dashingly energetic. He disregarded the fact that he looked much like the candied canes that were being handed out at the festivities below.
Frostbite comforted himself by laying stomach down on a roof near the Giftsgiving Eve party and keeping a lookout on the ruffians keenly eyeing the snack bar. One false move, and he'd pop them with a slingshot he'd found earlier that day. He forgot to bring ammo with him, but he found that if snow was packed tightly together in a ball, it did just as well, and was quite plentiful from his rooftop perch.
Jeshal the Ironclaw/Macavity Ashpaw
‘Twas the night before Giftsgiving and the Ironclaw had not long since returned from his first campaign plan of stealing presents and goodies from woodlander villages. Having seen all the novelties that their societies had to offer he was feeling in a surprisingly generous mood and decided to pay a visit to the Square and seek out the stockings of those he had met and perhaps even those yet to meet. Toffed up in his improved black frockcoat with the Golden Hide buttons on the cuffs, peacock-feathered cavalier donned, he glided into town with a large, black attaché case.
The copper fox saluted to every beast he passed, accidentally making one kit cry and two others laugh with his grin. At last he arrived at the pedestal. He took a moment to admire the tree, to take in the strong scent of the fir, and then began to read the labels on the stockings. Undoing the latch on his case, he distributed his gifts accordingly:
To Anithias he donated a coupon for purchasing a free night’s drinking at the Bilge – no time like the present for the todd to take up alcoholism, not that he would realise the malice behind it. For his wife and kits; a bottle of wine and some sherbet candies – to add to the insanity of the Freedom family day; and to Armina he gave a bottle of Garlic’n’Go breath spray for warding off unwanted males. Harlgren had a stocking, too, and even though Jeshal was uncertain of the next time they would meet, he gave a candy eyeball he had saved since Halloween. He hoped the sick humour would be received in good taste.
For Enguil, Jeshal had bought a white chocolate mouse – he couldn’t find a ferret; for Rynn, a recipe book; for Xhavek, a puzzle box called a ‘Survival cube’, which snapped at your hands if you didn’t take the correct step to solving it – the monitor’s sadistic mind might appreciate the gesture; for Brek, a diary for his duties, each month with a sickeningly encouraging poem at its start; for Tomias, a plain but well-cut shirt made from red-dyed cotton – he felt sure there was some irony in the gift, even if it was just to hide any injuries that Redford’s insubordinance won him.
To Blinky, who had briefly been a part of the crew, he slipped in some air freshener – the fool would probably drink it anyway; for captains Zilaco and Frostbite, a bottle of fine sherry; for Ladorak, a silk cravat; to Molly, a pair of brass slippers – surely she’d come up with a use for those; to Sorrona Ashpaw, a special ring with a compartment for keeping antidotes; to her cousin, Macavity, a box of chocolates with a ‘Thank You’ note that would no doubt rile the young wildcat into throwing them out of the window; to Lindsay, and Wanderpaw, a silken handkerchief each – secretly to mock how wet they were; to Sokea, an assortment of flowers for her to smell – what? He didn’t have to be cruel to everyone.
For Kiptooth, some entertaining, squeezy stress-balls; for new recruit Quilane, a leather-bound journal – if this beast ended up dead one day, Jeshal wouldn’t have minded a nosey into his personal life should he be permitted to confiscate his belongings; for Fireeyes, not that anyone expected her to surface, a black scarf; for Padraig, a box of matches with the attached message “not on my ship”.
He had saved the Ryalors for last. Into the kits’ stockings he placed a bag each of candied chestnuts, clearly stating whom they were from. For the admiral herself, the Ironclaw put in a collection of powder paints and dyes wrapped with a bow. It was doubtful she had forgotten the fun she had had that night painting the fur of her whole crew as they slept. That was the labelled gift. Ensuring no beast saw him, Jeshal used his claw to lift out a rose, dyed black with ink, from his case. Allowing neither scent nor mark that would indicate the giver to taint it, he slid the flower into Tanya’s stocking.
To every other beast he gave a pawful of sweets and hurried on his way. In not too soon a time either, for Macavity Ashpaw had just entered the Square and begun his outrageous display of foolery.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Macavity danced about the Square as jolly a cat as could be. The little grey tabby, full with eggnog, beamed at the dazzling scene and shook paws with every stranger and friend he accosted. It was fortunate he did not cause the tree to topple in his excited meanderings.
“What ho, beasts of Bully! Pip, pip, ding-dang the merry-o, wot-wot?” he bellowed in hare-speak. “Merry flippin’ Giftsgiving! I love Giftsgiving, want to know why, sir, madam? Because it’s full of that awful, terrible, beautiful emotion us vermin say we hate but secretly like to have a grand old time with… and what’s that?”
He launched upon a stage and danced about with an unwitting actor.
“That’s right, folks, it’s L-O-V-Eeeeeee!” The unlucky weaselmaid was sent spinning into the curtains at the back. “Whoops! Sorry sweetheart!” Maccy shrugged and scampered from act to act, applauding and cheering. He sang raucously, but at least tunefully, along with the carols.
Ashpaw winked at every lady cat he could, giving them an additional blown kiss, before at last he hurled himself before the Mayor in all his drunken, military regalia.
“And here’s the beast who made it all happen! Bravo, madam, splendid! Oh, brilliant, brilliant!” He clapped loudly just in front of her whiskers and then gave a dramatic sigh. “Don’t you just love this time of year?”
Aria F. Nocturne/ Monteroy “Monty” Silver
Aria tittered as she wisely took a short step backward from the drunken cat. "Oh, well, it was technically the Minister of Niceties that organized it, but they're so busy of late that they weren't even able to make it. I have done an awful lot, haven't I?"
It was true, she had. She'd overseen the decorating of the tree and the hanging of the stockings, as well as making sure her Fogies stayed on task.
She looked around at all the soft, powdery snow floating to earth, smiling as an extra large flake settled on her nose.
"It is indeed a lovely time of year."
~
"Oh, of all the..." Commissioner Silver growled, then sharply barked, "HINKLY!"
The grey ferret stormed out, grabbed the stoat's nearest appendage, and pulled him straight out of his chair. As he roughly dragged Blinky into the back room, he muttered, "Why did I even bring you along? I'm going to give you the tanning of your life later, Cadet! You too, Noxi! Imagine if the Giftsgiving Bandit came down the... the chimney..."
Wait, that wasn't right. Why had they lit a fire in the fireplace? Of course the Bandit wouldn't come that way, unless they enjoyed roasting their own tail.
"Hinkly!" Silver commanded. "Go put that fire in the fireplace out, pronto! ...Right away?" he added, at the blank stare he was receiving.
Callix Noxi
There had been an awful lot of strained shouting occurring in the lizard constable's general direction, which was rather distressing when she considered herself to be a reasonably apt guard. Callix was strongly beginning to suspect that this treatment was something to do with her partner.
The monitor stood to attention and tried to explain her point of view to Silver.
"Zorriez, zir, I vas led to believe Cadet Hinkly vas acting az bait for the Bandit. Perhapz if ve are lucky, the Bandit vill zteal him and then..." Her eyes gleamed at what she considered to be a genius work of conception. "Then ve vould follow the trail of jam, zir."
Blaine “Blinky” Hinkly
Blinky awoke to find himself being hauled about by his tail (it having been the closest appendage within Monty's reach.) He was not confused by this so much as he was confused about why he could taste pepper on the roof of his mouth.
There wasn't any actual significance to this. It was just something odd.
"I lurve ye, too, 'missioner," the stoat mumbled as the ferret dropped his rump on the ground. Blinky sat up and tried to see if there was any eggnog left in his mug. There wasn't. Or maybe there was, except his mug was gone. "Oaw."
"Hinkly! Go put that fire in the fireplace out, pronto! ...Right away?"
"Oh!"
Blinky stood up, wobbled slightly, fell down again, and then decided to crawl back. This was a bit unfair, he thought. Why drag him all the way back here to do something he'd have to do in another room? That was just mean.
"Pur th'fire ou'," he repeated. "Righ'. Whurr's th'fire. There's th'fire. Whurr's th'ou'? Got no ou'. Oh." There was his mug. Eggnog was a liquid, right? ... right!
Blinky threw the eggnog on the fire.
The fire, not very happy with having eggnog with an alcohol content of 80% thrown at it, exploded somewhat violently. Blinky's whiskers curled, black at the tips.
What else put out fires? Dirt. Where could he find a lot of dirt? Besides himself. His blanky! And weren't blankets used to put out small fires as well? They were!
The fire died before Blinky's blanky could even get near it. It had decided to take its own life. This baffled the stoat somewhat, but he shrugged it off. Then he spotted something he decided was very important.
He practically ran back to the back room - which is to say he ambled at his normal pace, just without stopping to remember which direction he was headed in - waving the evidence of the Giftsgiving Bandit's presence at the rest of the Fogeys.
"Look! Look! I foun' a clue!"
Somebeast sighed.
"That's not a clue, Blinky, that's your jar of jam."
"Jam!" Blinky burbled, beaming.
Anithias Freedom/Julia Freedom/Armina Rogue/Urel
Snowflakes darted through the air, coating all the world with soft powder. Fir trees had been dragged down from the mountains and set up in the Square, bedazzled with brilliant paw-blown orbs and tiny candles set in glass cups. Beasts bedecked in scarves and shawls, top hats and bonnets, coats and coverings, all walked about the Square, chatting merrily and calling out "Happy Giftsgiving!" to their neighbors as they passed. A small group of carolers walked about the Square, calling out a fast, breathy rendition of "Once in Royal Mar'kan's City". It was, in many ways, an idyllic setting.
Chink!
"Another."
A bottle of amber liquid hovered above shot glass, pouring some of its contents into the tiny cup. A golden paw scooped up the glass, knocking it back into a fox's maw. The glass slammed down on the counter again. "Another."
The bartender hesitated. "Sir," he said carefully, "you have already had seven. For your safety, perhaps it would be best if-"
"Another, blast ye!" the fox barked, leaning on the ale booth as he turned to examine his settings. Bleary eyes traveled over the crowds, barely taking them in. "Look at them," he sighed mournfully. "Goin' about their lives as if nothin' happened. Actin' as if I did nothin' for them." He allowed his gaze to linger for another second before turning back to the bartender. "Well, what are ye waitin' for? Another!" Hurriedly the bartender poured the fox's eighth.
The fox knocked it back, sighing as he set it on the counter. He didn't hear the swift crunch of footpaws on snow behind him. He only became aware of the beast's presence when a pair of paws seized him by the shoulders and whirled him around on the stool. The motion was nearly enough to upset the fox from his perch.
"Nithy!" a femme shrieked, her voice boiling over with rage. "What are you- how dare you-"
Anithias squinted up at his assailant. He could barely make out wavy red locks of his wife. "Leave me 'lone, Jewel," he slurred, swaying slightly in his seat. He attempted to turn back to his ale, but the femme yanked him straight back around.
"Oh, no you don't," she said firmly, seizing her husband by his lapels. "You are going straight home, where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don't make a fool of yourself!"
"'Ey, 'ey, ey, lemme alone!" Anithias hollered, batting his wife's paws away. He turned back to the bar, hunching over his drink. "Miserable old hag," he muttered.
Slap!
A sharp blow hit Anithias upside the head. Before he knew what was happening he found himself lying on his side in the snow. A quavering sob sounded from above him before being silenced. When Julia spoke, her voice was shrill and shaking. "Fine. Fine. Stay here, you drunken sod. But remember this: you were my husband before you were captain. You were a father before you were captain! And I will not let you ruin your children's lives because of your own mistakes!"
A furious crunching of snow announced her departure, the pawfalls receding into the distance. With great effort Anithias pulled himself from his resting place, hauling himself onto the barstool. He stared after the retreating form of his wife before turning back. "'Gates..." he muttered, leaning on the booth. "Wha'm I doin', Tom?"
"I believe you're wasting your life, sir."
"Yeah, yer probably right." Anithias stared blearily about him. "I've gotta get out of this town, Tom."
"If I may, sir, perhaps it would be best to return to your wife first."
"Nah, she'll do fine." The drunken captain's attention was drawn by a copper fox moving swiftly out of the Square. "Hold tha' bottle for me..." he murmured, rising from his stool. Snow crunched under his footpaws as he followed the figure in the frockcoat, swiftly closing the distance between them. Anithias' reasoning mind was not functioning at this point; he was merely intent on relieving some of the anger pent up inside himself.
"Oi, Ironclaw!" he bellowed as he caught up with the figure. Pulling back his paw, Anithias lunged at Jeshal's face.
He missed. Anithias flailed for a second before falling into a snowdrift some three feet from his target. The drunken ex-captain stirred once before subsiding into a stupor at the footpaws of his successor.
-------------------------------------------------------
Armina was not very happy for a variety of reasons. The first was that she had been excluded from the sting itself. This was much to her chagrin; several of the paperpushers at headquarters had been teasing that a femme like her couldn't possibly catch the notorious Giftsgiving Bandit. Armina was sure that they'd make her pay the twenty gilders she'd bet on that arrangement. The second reason was that she'd been stuck on reconnaissance duty. Armina hated reconnaissance; it was the most boring assignment on the force, and she was sure she'd been assigned to it as payback for spilling tea on Sergeant Starling's blouse.
The third reason was the manner in which she was serving reconnaissance.
Armina blew the pom-pom away from her face and dully shook her bell. A tiny clattering rang out among the festivities, calling for beasts near and far to come donate their hard-earned gilders. Beside Armina hung a red collection pail. Above it hung a sign for the Mercy Brigade, a charitable foundation created by a long-dead philanthropist who really hadn't been that nice a person anyway. No one was really sure what the Mercy Brigade did, except that they commonly hustled beggars off the street and into thrift shops, where they were forced to buy clothing no one really wanted at prices they weren't really worth.
Armina rung her bell again, calling out her slogan in a dull monotone. "Give to the Mercy Brigade – help your fellow creatures in need. Ah, thank you sir!" she added, brightening as a passing beast dropped a small object into the pail. Eager to see her earnings, Armina scraped the small disk from the pail.
It was a tiny yellow button. "Oi!" she hollered, storming after the faux donator. "This is a swillin' button!" In a fit of anger she tossed the button at him. It bounced harmlessly off his back. "Fine!" she hollered, storming after him for a few feet before allowing him to retreat. "I hope you BURN!" she yelled, shaking her paw at him. In a huff she returned to her collection pail, throwing in her ridiculous red hat before slumping against the wall in a mood.
A set of heavy footpaws signaled the approach of a beast. Constable Urel, decked in red hat and fake beard, looked into her collection pot once before standing next to her. "I see you have mastered the art of goodwill toward all beasts," he observed. He pulled a ginger snap from his pocket, chewing on it thoughtfully. A tradition had arisen from the legend of the Giftsgiving Bandit: often around Giftsgiving time, citizens would dress up as the Bandit and parade around the streets. Children would hold out small presents or tokens and try to coax the fake Bandit into trying to snatch the presents, often leading to fun chases through the streets as the Bandit attempted to steal the offered gifts. Urel had been fulfilling this role around the Trenches, to some moderate success.
Armina merely looked away in response to Urel's greetings. Concern entered Urel's eyes as he watched the young cadet. "What is wrong?" he inquired, no longer chewing on the ginger snap.
Armina let out a brief "Grrrr!" of frustration, pacing in front of the collection tin. Slowly she held her paws out by her hips, trying to calm her raging emotions. "Sorry, it wasn't you," she apologized. "I'm just... I'm sick of being stuck with a dead-end ship and a dead-end job!" She kicked at the snow, sending a brief flurry of powder along the street. Storm clouds brewed on her visage as she watched the beasts in the Square. "I don't want to be stuck as the little back-up girl," she confessed. "I want to do something important. And honestly, I made more difference in the mob than I've ever done here."
Urel inclined his head in her direction. "Perhaps they are merely waiting to appraise your talents," he suggested. Armina merely gave a noncommittal "Hmph". Silence reigned between them, weighed down by the fall of snow upon them and their surroundings. At last Urel tentatively offered, "If you wish, I can recommend to Commissioner Silver that you be moved inside."
Armina laughed hollowly. "Good luck with that," she scoffed. She glanced up at the sky. "You'd best be going," she advised.
Urel nodded once. "Good luck, Ms. Rogue," he bade her gravely before setting out on his rounds.
It didn't take long to reach the Sting House. On his way he passed Jeb, who was running a dilapidated stand offering thorn bush wreathes: "Guaranteed to Keep Away the Giftsgiving Bandit" the sign advertised. It didn't appear that he was receiving much business. Shaking the snow off his boots, Urel pushed open the back door to the Sting House.
Several Fogies started from their chairs as Urel entered the old dining room. "Peace!" he called, pulling his fake beard down below his chin. "It is I." Several of the Fogies relaxed, though a few muttered something about heart attacks.
The sting did not appear to be going quite according to plan. Commissioner Silver was telling off Callix for something, though Urel did not catch what, and soon Blinky entered the room, proclaiming a pot of jam to be important evidence. Several of the Fogies groaned in exasperation, correcting the stoat almost half-heartedly.
Despite it being an undoubtedly poor time to enter the conversation, Urel cleared his throat. "Begging your pardon, Commissioner," he rumbled, "but all three reconnaissance points report no sign of the Bandit. If they're around here, they're showing no sign of it. Oh," he added, "and Cadet Rogue requests a transfer to the capture team."
Frostbite R. Tarrin
"Buff ruffufffin!" came muffled voices from the building underneath him in a loud and unpleasant manner. He couldn't tell who was speaking it, but he could definitely sense some frustration. He glanced back at the pre-Giftsgiving procession to make sure there was nothing immediately in demand of attention, then walked over to the chimney to get a better earful of the conversations. He peered intently into the blackness.
*WHOOSH!*
Soot blew upwards at an alarming rate – a rate which didn't alarm Frostbite quickly enough. He pulled his face back from the opening and coughed wildly in all directions, rubbing his eyes and snout with his paws. He looked down. They were pitch black. He patted his paws together furiously trying to see some white, but to no avail. He grunted and began making his way off the roof. Perhaps he should wash off before someone mistook him for...
"IT'S THE BANDIT!" came a yell. Frostbite looked in the direction the beast was pointing, trying to discern something until his ladder came tumbling over with a crash. The soot-coated ferret somersaulted onto his feet and took off in a mad dash. "STOP! IT'S ME!" he yelled back.
Skyler
A snowmarten shifted slightly. The carrot nose fell off, and the fishhead ears were next to drop.
Skyler twitched snow off his whiskers and crept forward, toward the display of stockings in the middle of the square. With everybeast focused on capturing the bandit, he was free...
Working quickly, the stripling pine marten grabbed loot out of random stockings, found where he'd hung his own up, and shoved it all in. He was mildly disappointed to find that apart from some coffee beans someone from the BlackShip had put in, there was not anything else already in his stocking. Well. This would show them! Two more pawfuls would stuff it to the brim, and then he could go back to playing with the rest of the kits, maybe make little Fiddle Dirtsocks the rat be the next model for their snowbeast...
Skyler grinned hugely as he shifted loot from the stockings. Giftsgiving had always been his favourite. Ever since last year, in fact. The Giftsgivings before that ... not so much. But last year! Last year had been spectacular.
Standing back to admire his bursting stocking, Skyler nodded.
"'Appy anniversary, mum an' da!" He chortled, bending down to scoop up some street slurry into a snowball.
He wondered if there was any frozen hobo corpse he could use this year.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver
"He'll be here," Monty said. "Or she, I s'pose. Never can tell these days. Tell Cadet Rogue she's welcome to come. I don't know how I got stuck with such an... interesting bunch in the first place." He glanced at Blinky as he spoke.
There was a cry from outside. "IT'S THE BANDIT!"
Monty dashed out the back door and watched as a couple of Fogies chased a soot-covered creature down the street.
"STOP! IT'S ME!" it yelled. There was something very familiar about that voice. Another glance at the creature's clothing confirmed his identity.
"Everybeast, halt!" Monty roared. "That's an order!"
The Commissioner couldn't decide if his Fogies were giving him a bigger headache or stomachache. The ferret rubbed at his temples furiously, trying to keep his voice calm.
"If you are on the sting operation, get your miserable tails inside and hope to Mar'kan you haven't ruined any chances of us catching the Bandit. If you're not, get out of here. Honestly..."
The ferret snapped the door shut behind him.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
No longer able to make quite as good the sneaky exit as before his promotion, Jeshal’s ears flicked at the sound of a familiar, yet slurred voice, yelling out his name. He turned on the spot at the very moment a drunken Freedom’s paw missed connecting with his face and watched as the golden fox teetered about and flopped into the snow. Anithias’s nose lay barely an inch from the Ironclaw’s boots. The nippy weather had called for a change from his sandals.
Jeshal sneered down at the fallen todd. Apparently his choice of gift had been more suitable than he had thought. “Yer offerin’ o’ respect be touchin’, Freedom. There be no cause ter bow, even if it be true that I be the better beast.” The copper fox smiled, which was at least preferable to showing pity. “I liked ye, ’Nith. Ye were a strong-willed, loyal captain, an’ ye were a fine strategist. Never lost any o’ the vermin what mattered out on the raids. Yer a bleedin’ paragon, matey. Shinin’ beacon what ‘eld the ‘earts of ‘is crew in ‘is paws. But do ye want ter know where it is ye went wrong? Truly?”
The Ironclaw put down his attaché case and began to pace around his bleary-eyed forerunner. All at once he decided to play a more callous card. It wasn’t as though anyone would be able to follow up Freedom’s claims. Jeshal could have been a pink heffalump to the sozzled beast this night as far as any court was concerned.
“Ye lacked flexibility. Ye needed ter distribute the weight o’ the world before it chose ter crush ye. ‘Gates, ye’re a Navy beast, Freedom, an’ ye never learned ter take a feint, ter back down, or accept ‘elp from anyone. What good did it do ye, says I? Lost ye yer crew, yer ship, yer dignity…I be takin’ a guess that yer sweet’eart Mrs Freedom ain’t fond o’ the new you.” He smirked. “But as fer me, allow me ter offer me profound thanks. ‘Tis on account o’ ye that I be where I be today. Ye gave me access ter what I ‘ave been waitin’ fer fer so many a year.”
Arriving back at the place where Anithias’s head rested, Jeshal lowered into a crouch. He whispered into the golden fox’s ear, “Ye prob’ly always wondered why it is I signed up. An’ on Giftsgiving Eve, what better time ter tell ye the sweet tune o’ me thoughts? I never wanted the Hide, Freedom. I never wanted ter serve yer precious Imperium. I never wanted this power, but now it be mine I ain’t one ter complain. Nay, ‘Nith, an’ let it be said I couldn’ ‘ave done it without yer gen’rous action o’ stepping down.”
Jeshal grinned his horrible, beautiful grin. “It be all about her.”
The copper todd flicked Anithias’s ear mockingly with a metal claw. “Seasons greetin’s, matey o’ mine,” he growled mirthfully, then, without a further word, he snatched up the empty case and stole out of the Square.
Mint/Caper
Mint blinked at the small explosion and column of smoke that erupted from a chimney several buildings away from her. She adjusted her red cap, wondering what somebeast could have thrown in their fireplace to make such an explosion. Perhaps they were a relative of former Minister of War Sleet?
Without further thought, the rattess was down another chimney.
*
"Oi, Caper, you look proper fearsome, you do."
"Sharrup, Gilly, don' call me tha' when I'm dressed up like this. I'm th' Indigo Platycodon, remember?"
Gilly, a smallish weasel nearing his teens, looked abashedly up at the dark-clad fox who was leaning out the window of the dark abandoned apartment room they were in.
"Oh, right. Sorry Cap-...ah, Platycodon."
The tall, lanky fox turned around, his eyes shining out from beneath his black mask. A cutlass was thrust in his belt along with two knives. His footpaws were bare and his scruffy brush emerged from a pair of patched black trousers. He flashed a scraggly-toothed grin at the weasel.
"S'ok. Jes' don' go blabbin' t'everybeast 'bout this, alrigh'? Th'fewer who know, th' better. We don' wan' Ol' 'Ammer'ead's gang findin' out 'bout this."
"H'oh no," Gilly shook his head fervently. "Hammerhead'll get us fer sure if'n he finds out."
"Tha's righ'. Now, you go down wi' th'rest o'our gang an' work tha' Giftsgivin' party. I'll keep watch from th'rooftops an' make sure nobeast tries t'rough you up. If'n they do...Well, they'll remember why they used t'be afraid o' 'urtin' us urchins."
The masked fox swung out from the window and climbed upwards to the rooftop. He made his way towards the Trenches and the Giftsgiving festivities.
*
Mint was making her way across the Trenches, nearing the house with the oddly explosive chimney. There was no more soot belching forth from it, and her curious nature was beginning to get the better of her.
She sensed somebeast behind her and turned to see a fox, clad in scruffy black clothes and wearing a mask upon his face, crouched on the peak of the roof. The rattess was below him, her loot bag over her shoulder as she prepared to jump to the next house. She cocked her head curiously at the beast. He slid down the roof, stopping beside her.
"Imp!" the fox said jovially. "'Appy Giftsgivin' t'you! I see yer up t'yer usual."
The rattess nodded, flashing the slightest of smiles. So this is what Caper and his gang had been so sneaky about recently. Starting the Platycodon stint again by the looks of it. She only hoped that the young fox's mind was more stable than that of the previous vigilante of the same name.
Before the todd could say much else, the rattess had vaulted to the rooftop of the house with the exploding chimney. Caper waved at her retreating form.
"'Ave a good nigh', miss, or marm, or whate'er you are!"
Mint ignored him, skittering across the roof to the chimney. She peered down it. No sign of flames. Whatever it was that had caused the explosion was gone now.
It was but the work of a moment for the rattess to slide down the chimney, making sure to avoid touching her bright red garments to the sooty walls. Such red clothing was rather expensive, and she was a very frugal beast after all.
The rattess dropped into the fireplace grate, staring outwards, feeling her heart suddenly begin to race. The Fogies in the room stared back at her for a moment.
"Bloody 'Gates," she muttered darkly.
Blaine “Blinky” Hinkly
Surprisingly, it was Blinky who was the first of the Fogies to react to their present in the fireplace.
"I told ye th'jam wos a clue," he said, sounding rather hurt that nobeast had believed him.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver
After the initial shock of the Bandit's arrival and Blinky's not so shocking revelation, Monty's eyes narrowed in recognition of the rat.
I should've known...
"Get her! Get the Bandit! Block off the chimney and all exits!"
The ferret lunged, truncheon swinging.
Callix Noxi
Constable Noxi was the first to dash for the front door. Making her stance as wide as possible, she used her body to barricade it. Her posture was akin to a raptor, teeth grinning, tail swishing.
"She von't get pazt me, zir!" the monitor rasped, perhaps a little overconfidently.
Blaine “Blinky” Hinkly
"Or me!" Blinky yelped, throwing himself bodily into the center of the living room, where he lay splayed out like a zebra rug - the only difference being that the black stripes had been replaced by red-purple.
The stoat oomphed as he hit the ground, then stretched luxuriously before putting his head down to rest, thoroughly content in the knowledge that his presence alone would deter most anybeast from trying to cross paths. In this he was somewhat right, as the rest of the Fogeys slid along the walls toward the fireplace.
Blinky closed his eyes and began to lick at a jam stain on the carpet.
Mint
Mint looked up. The flue of the chimney was too far for her to reach, and she wasn't going to have time to scramble upwards, as the Fogies were descending upon her.
Baring her teeth, the rattess flung her sack of stolen goods at the nearest attacking Fogey, then darted into the room from the fireplace grate. At that moment Blinky threw himself on the floor and Mint stumbled over him, falling head over tail.
She was up again, recovering from the tumble. But then somebeast had a hold of her tail, and another had a hold of her footpaw. She kicked viciously, catching one of the Fogies in the face with her sharp, grimy claws. Then she dove at the one who had her tail, scratching and biting at their face for all she was worth, a hissing screech emanating from her mouth as she attacked.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver
Monty staggered back. The little monster had kicked him in the face. The ferret shook his head to clear it, sending several droplets of blood scattering to the floor as he did so. By the time he worked out what was going on, the robe-toting Imp was savagely attacking another Fogey.
The Commissioner lunged forward again, this time grabbing the Bandit by the collar of her robe and yanking her upward, off the unfortunate beast.
"Got you!" he laughed triumphantly.
Mint/Caper
Mint coughed and spluttered as the collar of her robe dug into her windpipe. Her paws went to her throat as she tried to pull the clothing away so that she could breath, but to no avail. The rat lashed out desperately with her tail in an attempt to break the grip of the beast who had her from behind. In her air-deprived, foggy mind, she thought she felt her wildly flailing limb connect with something, but she was not sure.
*
Outside on the rooftops, Caper heard the commotion from inside the house that the Imp had just entered. He jumped to the roof and ran to the chimney, peering down into it. The shouts and voices rang loud and clear.
"Got you!"
Caper's ears flattened. Was somebeast trying to harm Mint? Though he had never heard the rattess speak, Caper had always felt a sort of friendship towards the Imp. She had helped him get out of tight fixes on numerous occasions over the years, and he could not remember a time in his life when she was not around.
The young todd vaulted into the chimney and slid down, landing in the grate and tumbling outwards into the fray, slamming directly into the ferret who had a hold on Mint.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver
Monty's breath left him in an "Oof!" as the fox materialized from seemingly nowhere and slammed into him. The ferret instinctively let go of Mint as he fell to the floor, hissing breathless curses. He gasped for breath, trying to issue orders to his Fogies, but the wind had been knocked completely out of him.
Caper
Caper was up first, grabbing the red-robed rattess by the base of the tail as she wheezed for air.
"Come on, Imp, let's get outta here!"
The todd half-dragged her as he scrambled from the room, bulling through one Fogey on his way to the front door. Behind him, the other Fogies were barreling out of the room, hot on his scraggly brush of a tail. Mint yanked herself out of his grasp, flashing Caper a grin.
They both skittered to a halt upon seeing a monitor blocking the exit. Mint dashed to the side, her claws clasping Caper's paw. The todd followed her into the next room. Without hesitation, Mint threw herself through the side window, her head ducked down as she tumbled outside. Caper followed suit, his dark clothing tearing on the broken glass.
The rattess was already sprinting down the road by the time he was on his footpaws. Caper took off in the opposite direction, hoping that splitting up the Fogies would give both Mint and himself a better chance at escaping.
Monteroy “Monty” Silver/Aria F. Nocturne
Although Monty was generally a fairly jovial beast, as soon as his voice returned he screamed himself hoarse at the Fogies and their incompetence at letting the Giftsgiving Bandit escape, and then, once he was tired of that, he sank into the decoy armchair, grimacing as his paw settled in something sticky. Probably jam.
"Well, this news will be a fantastic Giftsgiving present to Madam Nocturne, won't it?" He actually chuckled, trying not to think about the morrow.
~
The morning dawned with a faint dusting of snow still sprinkling down. After spending time with their families, beasts gathered in Satire Square for the gift exchange.
As it turned out, the Mayor was far too occupied with the festivities that she waved the Commissioner away.
"Who now? Oh, the Bandit. Well, sorry it didn't work out. I suppose there's always next year, yes? Here, have some egg nog."
"But Madam Mayor, the Bandit... it was the one they call the Mint Imp."
Aria's cup slipped from her paws, shattering on the frozen ground, its eggy contents seeping into the snow. The rat remembered all the trouble the Imp had caused at the Fogey prison. The sheer insolence of the beast! How dare she try to ruin Giftsgiving?
"Get me my stocking and another egg nog," she said through gritted teeth. "It's Giftsgiving. We are here to enjoy ourselves."
As Monty turned to leave, Aria said, "Oh, and Commissioner?"
"Yes?"
"A couple glasses of mulled wine as well. I will need them."
