Open Hearts of Oak

[Tanya Keltoi]

Mid-morning breeze blew fresh and stiff from the lively oceans to enact its mischief upon the harbour and ships at anchor there. Playfully tugging thick greased ropes astray and billowing unattended canvas in the paws of hapless new recruits, it looked to be a day of pleasant but lively weather: all the better for those hard workers sweating on the deck as they made good their vessel.

The BlackShip was abuzz with activity, her restored bulk teeming with beasts from the green to the seasoned preparing for her first voyage under the new Captain. Canvas was checked and strengthened; miles of rigging were organised accordingly; decks were scrubbed, brasses polished, and supplies loaded aboard with well-organised precision.

It was a bit rough and ready to her eye, this rabble, but sheer crew size necessitated decent organisation and things seemed to be running smoothly enough. Dunking paws into a barrel of saltwater to cleanse them of lacquer after freshening up the binnacle, Tanya squinted up at the impressive masts of the ship and heaved a nostalgic sigh.

Her relationship with the fabled BlackShip had been a long one marked by spartan crossings throughout the years. Poetic, really, that time and tide should bring them back together at some point in her older age after it had been the first Imperium vessel she had wangled her way aboard. Staring down the deck was a transportive experience, so familiar as it was all new. She was fifteen seasons old, seasick and scared, trying to learn how to adequately tie knots with soggy, blistered paws under the watchful eye of Captain Greenfire. She was in her twenties, a new and eager Captain called to a meeting of the fleet aboard the ship with the largest office, twins in tow. She was approaching thirty, Admiral of the fleet appraising the large ship as part of her inspections, regarding the vessel in an entirely new light.

A blink and the scruffy vixen roused herself back to the present. Today was not a day for idle paws, and chances were once the voyage was underway she’d be expected to lend a paw with keeping beasts in line. For now, at least, she could be somewhat more casual in her approach. Ever a practical sort, Tox set aside reminiscing and nudged a dark-furred marten as she dried paws on a rag seized from his paws. “How’re this lot looking by your eye, Oilfur?” The beast in question, seemingly a veteran of large ships as these, wrinkled his nose and took a moment to respond. “Hard t’say, marm: plenty of green sailors, though. Might well have our work cut out for us teachin’ this lot all at once.”

“Long’s there’s enough skilled crew to keep her steady we can forgive some fresh paws,” Tox replied. “It’ll be fun putting the lot through their paces: all good adventures start with a touch of trouble, after all.”

Years had passed since she’d felt like this, and there were few ships finer to embark on a new journey. Striding further onto the quarterdeck with a jaunty swagger more suited to a younger beast, the diminutive vixen took a deep breath, savoured the (relative) freshness of the air and called out. “Alright you lot, anybeast here new to the BlackShip come gather so’s you can introduce yourself and I can give you some basic orientation of the place!”

 

[Cryle]

Of all the mysteries of the universe, all the unanswered questions, all the minor discrepancies between observable fact and the grand theories of history, there was one whose solving truly left a disturbed churning in the depths of her soul. She would simply not accept the answer in this lifetime. The question itself gnawed at her, halfway between a leech and a tapeworm burrowed deep inside her brain, siphoning all the mental energies she had to spare: Why did stuff always have to happen in the daytime?

It was all too bloody bright.

Cryle hadn't slept. Mostly because she had run out of money, and hadn't found a place to sleep which covered the requirements of being dry, clean, and not already owned, although that last one could have been solved if things didn't always happen in the bloody daytime.

She could do it, though. Just a while longer. Find somebeast who worked nights, follow them home, suffer through the daylight, and then when they left for work, a place to rest her mind and plan the next thing, which was to spend money on sunglasses. And then it had all gone pear-shaped.

She couldn't remember what had happened, she was that tired. Somehow, she was on a ship, squinting at things, pointing at things with a pencil, and pretending to write something down in her notebook. Presumably a list of the things she was pointing at. The trick was to keep moving, so that the various piles and placement of the things to point at changed, which meant they were ready to be pointed at again. Nobeast bothered someone whose job it looked like was to count things. To do so would invite the risk of being one of the things that was counted.

Had papers been signed? It felt like there was a likelihood of that having happened, but which day it had happened, or where, or what the papers had been for, was all under layers of sedimentary exhaustion. So it was when a voice cawed out over the ship containing the words "basic orientation", her ears perked up. Finally, direction!

She flipped her notebook close with a snap, doffed her hat at the latest pile of counted things, and turned sharply on her heel towards the voice as her brain played over the sound and picked out the important information.

She was new. New was to gather. Introduce yourself - well, that was an awful thing to ask of anyone, but as long as someone went before her, she could copy their work.

Cryle gathered. Not her wits, nor her senses, but nevertheless, she gathered.

And then, to her horror, other beasts gathered behind her. Nononononono. Augh. She was first.

What a horrible day.

Names were a good start, right?

She pointed her snout towards the air of authority - some kind of pine marten? A fox-shaped pine marten? - and said, in a clipped, proper accent, "Cryle Rascallo, ma'am."

She attempted a salute, tail standing straight and tall behind her. Somehow, her massive befeathered hat stayed on her head, and her glasses remained on her face. Practice paid off.

 

[Orion Bloodtooth IV]

The city was far too… large… for Orion’s liking. Already he missed the little fishing village of Petroa. His home. But Orion shook away those thoughts. He was out on his own now. He needed to prove his worth. Stepping forward, Orion didn’t bother with a fancy salute or standing up straight and tall. He slouched with his paws buried in his pockets.

“Orion Bloodtooth the Fourth.” He called out, northern accent heavy. When he spoke, there was a flash of red from his maw as the Bloodtooth glinted in the noontime sun.

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Beasts were beginning to assemble and for the moment the diminutive vixen was content to wait a few moments and see just what manner of crew would show. There was a general air of discomfort as response to her request within which she both empathised and, in some small way, enjoyed: it was always preferable being on this side of such encounters, after all. Still, she was not here to be obtuse nor make the first day unpleasant.

A wave of the paw encouraged the gathering to form more of a rough semicircle. Order would be the name of the game at sea, but this morning was to prove a more relaxed affair and for that she was grateful. It was going to take her a few hours to get used to a ship of this size, and that wasn’t to speak of getting to know so many new faces. It really had been years…

Turning her head, she gave the marten nearby a nudge to the chest. “See if you notice any likely ones amongst this lot.” Oilfur merely nodded.

The first to speak out was a rat, well-dressed by her eyes and almost startlingly young to a vixen of her age until she reminded herself of her own escapades. They seemed a studious sort, if those glasses were of any indication, and her brows raised appraisingly. Academically-inclined beasts had been fewer and further between when last she had sailed for the Imperium: it would be interesting, to say the least, to see what this one would bring to the ship. Tanya nodded, indicating Cryle could relax at-ease. The salute, however, was appreciated.

The todd was next, far less deferential in his approach: an echo of what she had once been. He was tall, too, still above both herself and Cryle even at that slouch. What an interesting sort, and the fourth? Oh, she was going to have to make some enquiries there as to his heritage.

Putting thoughts from her mind as to how her younger self would have fought tooth and claw for a ruby like that, the fox folded her arms and grinned. “Cryle, Orion,” Tanya parroted, committing names to memory. “Well met, and welcome aboard the BlackShip. I’m Tanya Keltoi but Tox’ll do. Now I’m presumin’ you’re all signed up already, but if not we’ll get that done for you later: in the meantime why not tell me your skills an’ areas of interest. No doubt the whole ship’ll become familiar with time, but might as well focus on the places you’re likely going to want to be around most.”

 

[Cryle]

There are certain phrases that simply should not be spoken, least not of all to certain types of beasts. Phrases such as, "Could use a bit more salt," to a seasoned chef, for instance, or "But grandma said I could," to one's harried mother. Both such examples carry with them entirely too much danger, but not as much danger as asking a beast such as Cryle, "tell me about your interests."

She took a deep breath.

"Well, one of my main passions is astronomy, the moon is truly a fascinating celestial body, the way the weight of it pushes water away - but the stars are my real point of interest, I've been documenting them in a list according to luster, brilliance, sparklitude, and shine, giving each one a unique identifying number, oh, even the distance from Magh to Vulpinsula means there's a few more stars on the horizon to document, which is why I've been up the last few nights! I've dabbled in marine biology, the way some species glow is quite similar to some fungi that grow in the Windthrift caves, you know, I've been trying to collect samples to see if I can mix the properties with ink to create a way to write in pitch darkness - " inhale " - which reminds me of my love of mathematics, if you take away thumbs you get four claws on each paw, and eights are so much easier to count with than tens, but base sixteen is where I think the future is really going towards, oh, but engineering is truly where I find the most fascinating things, the way you can create such delicate and intricate machinery - not to disrespect the steam engines, but I find that the smaller an object, the more interesting its properties become when applied to heat and cold alike, in fact I fully believe I can finish my Exploding Pocket Watch given a few more weeks' time and the right working conditions, though I will need a stronger magnifying lens - " inhale " - oh magnification! There's a magnificent - haha, get it? - subject there, the shapes of those tiny squirmy things if you can illuminate them properly... ah, but that's just going back to the bioluminescence of marine life, which is why I've taken up fishing as a side hobby to try and capture more specimens, but where the real interesting ones are is deep down, so I've been working on designs for a diving apparatus that would allow a crew of four, tch, but there's just not enough flexible tubing for the air convalescence, no, that's not the right word, conveyance, my apologies - " inhale " - I also find sailing itself to be more a science than an art, I've spent a few of my allowances on chartering day cruises around Magh in the last few years, although surveillance might be the proper term, which reminds me that architecture is also a quite agreeable study, though I haven't dipped my paws into that as much as I would have liked, been too busy coming up with a secondary alphabet which should be at least fifty percent more efficient in writing, saving time and paper and allowing seven more unique numbers for base sixteen mathematics, in fact, if..."

She suddenly became aware of all the eyes on her. Her ears flattened against her hat, tail curling around her ankles. Her limbs somehow shrunk further into her coat.

"Oh. Would you all be so kind as to stop perceiving me now?"

 

[Corda LaConte / Cordan LeConte]

Corda awoke. Then Cordan awoke. Then Corda awoke once more. The pair wrestled for dominance, an old ritual between them on days when both were eagerly awaiting certain developments; then, finally, as she always did when her brother's happiness was on the line, Corda conceded and went back to sleep, leaving Cordan to hurriedly pull himself into his breeches and doublet, broad feathered hat atop his head and rapier on his belt, and go running to catch up to the crew. The would-be adventurer and temporary deckswab knelt on the deck in a style of chivalry not seen outside of the court of Amarone in the past century, bowing deeply to the famed former admiral and sweeping his hat off his head. "Cordan LeConte," he introduced himself, his voice higher-pitched than most males his age but with a bit of gruff rasp on top that masculinized it. "Adventurer and duelist, my lady, at your service and sworn in duty to our good captain. My apologies for my tardiness."

 

[Vilde Isdatter]

A warship. Now this felt more the wildcat's style, although the sheer size of the BlackShip was beyond daunting. Vilde had never seen anything like this vessel. The Golden Hide had been an impressive taste of the Imperium's power as she had journeyed here from the land of Urk, the ship belching smoke like a mighty dragon. This was the kind she was better equipped to help sail, however. A beast reliant on wind, wave, and oar and one designed for bloodshed and battle.

Shield on her back, axe in her belt, she stood among the gathered recruits and crewmembers alike, somewhat towering over several of them considering her species. The fox with the jewelled tooth was fascinating, as was the flamboyant one who had just appeared, proving a distraction from the wordy rattess whom she had turned her gaze from immediately at the request. Vilde's attention returned to 'Tox', a vixen who made her feel all the more at home for the trinkets she displayed. The cat watched and waited quietly for instructions.​

 

[Orion Bloodtooth IV]

Orion listened with... little to no interest to the entire spiel, an eyebrow raised. When finally Cryle stopped speaking did he decide to speak up himself. "I like fishin'... I like cookin'. I don't know me numbers or letters that well but readin' is interestin... sometimes. Mother cared for it more than me."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Eyelids flickered with the occasional, rapid blink as Tanya otherwise stared blankly in the face of the doe’s verbosity. Oh, she was a talker. In truth there were several interesting facets the former Admiral took interest in – particularly when it came to smaller engineering, for her own interests had wandered into those realms during her self-imposed exile from the Imperium. Watchwork had been of particular interest as opposed to larger engines and she sensed a kindred spirit, in that, at least. Aspects of astronomy also resonated, though Tanya’s fascination had always been purely practical when it came to celestial navigation, possessing little skill nor interest in exploring the science behind the stars.

Hm. Navigation might be perfect.

Still, she was a rat of many interests by the sounds and, though her verbal barrage had nigh on flattened her (or at least her brain), Tanya had picked out enough to maintain her original opinion: it would do to have an academic aboard. “Some’ow I think anywhere we go on this ship, you’ll find something of interest,” she replied, flashing the rat a grin before indulging her request and turning away, “but I’ll ‘ave a word with you back at the binnacle later. Think I’ve a proposition might suit your talents.”

Speaking of suitability…she regarded the lanky todd as he gave his answer, trying to focus on the words as opposed to that fascinating fang. No, ‘Gates be damned even nearing sixty she still wanted a tooth like that. Emerald would be good; jade or jasper at a push...Re-focusing, she gave a swish of the brush and a nod. “Aye, reading has it place but I ain’t an academic sort, myself – though they have my respect,” a glance at Cryle, then away before she could, as the doe had so quaintly put it, perceive her further. “We’ll stop by the galley so’s you can have a look around and see if it’s to your liking. Cap’n Ironclaw enjoys fishing, himself: reckon he’ll be pleased to have more able paws aboard for the task.”

Her focus snapped then to the newest arrival as he burst upon the scene with dramatic flair as would befit any performer, or indeed hero from a novel of old. Tanya had never been much of a reader, but that hadn’t stopped her familiarising herself with certain tropes. Reminds me of someone I used to know: heroic. Suppressing the smirk lest it appear too condescending, she inclined her head to the pitched-voiced todd, making note but making no query. “Apology accepted, master LeConte.” A higher class of crew, indeed. Her gaze momentarily met with that of a large wildcat, her appearance stark contrast to the todd she had just spoken to. There was something of the wild about her;. Something she could well appreciate.

“Cap’n Ironclaw will no doubt run a tight ship, and it goes for all of you that you’ll be expected on your duties when the bells sound, but this being a crew with green sailors aboard we expect it to take a week or three for habits to settle. Those of you more able, I'd appreciate you takin' the time to share what knowledge you have with those less experienced.
"By my reckoning you’ll all be served best getting to know one another in these first weeks: after all, those around you won’t just be doing their own jobs. Might well be tasked to save your life one day, so make sure you’re beasts what can depend on each other - and be depended on.”

 

[Michel Fabron]

Mick kept to the side of things as his fellow crewmates approached the vixen to introduce themselves. Paws crossed over his thin chest, he watched and waited. It had been easy enough to find a place for himself in the crew manifest without drawing suspicion. The background given to him by the supremacists even had a paper trail to go with it. All he had to do was play the role he knew well enough from his time in the Alkamarian military and await further orders while collecting information. Besides, leaving for a voyage of however many weeks was a keen way to keep attention from him after his success at the Opera House. He itched to see what kind of explosive materials the BlackShip carried in her hold, and felt a thrill at the opportunity to access her state of the art cannons. The excitement was enough to allow him to keep at bay his feelings of disgust at serving in such close proximity to lesser species. His temporary sacrifice would all be for the rise of the superior vulpine species, he knew.

Supposing it best to begin making an impression and playing his role, the fox stepped forward with a smart salute. "I'm used to serving on land, marm, but I figure a cannon on a ship isn't so different from a cannon in a fort. Stick me on the guns an' you can be sure I'll be there for every broadside with bells on."

 

[Cryle]

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle. Deep breath. Hold still. She'd survived opening her mouth. No one had said anything derisive, and as long as she didn't look at them in the face, she'd never know if they were secretly harboring derisive thoughts either.

Cryle did cast a sly glance around, to make sure that everybeast was acquiescing to her request. Her glance ended up being mostly upwards. Wonderful! If there was ever a ventilation duct that needed exploring, it looked like such a duty would fall to her. Alas, she hadn't the time to express her interest in such - nor the cannons, she realized, although the latest speaker's words did strike a new-old fear into her heart. But that would be her second question. For now, the fear would be calmed by the knowledge she needn't ever worry about things on high shelves with this lot.

The first question, which she decided was best asked in a near-whisper to the second-best-dressed beast* on the ship, was a little more important at present time.

She sidled over to Cordan, once again appreciating his glamor - good hat, good sword, nice blue colors - and gently tapped him in the arm with the brim of her hat as she tilted her head towards him.

"Er," she said, then lowered her voice some, "What's a binnacle?"


* She was the first, of course.