How The Fox Stole Giftsgiving (Old VI Thread)

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

(Edited this one out of order since tis the season and it be fun. New captain of the Golden Hide Jeshal leads his crew on a Giftsgiving raid. Starring Jeshal the Ironclaw, Brek Larks, Rijard M. Chaos, Tomias Redford, Kerri Quilane (Yaro's dad), Xhavek Mokorai, Padraig Kesey, Armina Rogue (a.k.a. Vaelora Ryalor), Macavity Ashpaw (Yaro's cousin, once removed), and Tanya Ryalor (now Keltoi))


HOW THE FOX STOLE GIFTSGIVING

First post Dismembre 2, Yr 1729



Jeshal the Ironclaw
Softly as the fall of snow upon already crisp ground, Jeshal crept about his new cabin and carefully removed the traps he had set for his predecessor. He was pleasantly surprised to find that a few had already gone off, although it was not clear whether Freedom himself had discovered them or whether they had set themselves off. The least the copper todd could hope for was that one or two of them had given Anithias the fright of his life.

Opening up a cabinet door he discovered a fixed looking glass with which he could inspect his attire. The patchy cavalier he retained but had chosen to fit it with a peacock feather. Flashy and crude, yes, but delicately mocking and tongue-in-cheek also. His black formal coat had been sewn back into pristine condition, now with silver buttons and the most gaudy of all - a golden button upon each cuff in the shape of a galleon. Jeshal had never really been one for vanity but today he thought he would indulge himself. He grinned at his reflection and slowly crushed the air symbolically with his metal claw.

"The ship is mine..." he whispered.

The Ironclaw took in a long draught of the cabin's scent. Freedom, Harlgren, Tinker, Ullyanov, DeVespilio, Freemont... their traces were still here, even the faintest suggestions of those older. He could only put three of the scents to name, for he was a child compared to the experience so many had had within the Navy. The third had never left the ship. Perhaps now she would see him as something more than a creep.

Ready to face the dwindling dregs of a once full complement of crew, Jeshal stepped out of the cabin and unhooked the ship's bell from where it hung. He ascended quietly to the quarterdeck, held the bell aloft and then began to ring it mercilessly. The sound was accompanied by a tirade of barked orders.

"All paws on deck ye 'eads o' pestilent dandelions! Cease yer skitterin', ye be sailors not ballerinas. Drop that bucket, get off them there stays an' line y'selves up. All beasts below, I know ye can 'ear me, if yore cabins an' beds be not empty by the time I gets down there, I'll give ye a nice damp 'oliday spot ter sleep fer a week."

At last the bell stopped and was placed upon the rails. Jeshal grinned eerily at the crew.

"In the wake of our disagreeable losses o' finance, 'tis me intention ter make it up to ye on be'alf of me predecessor. Do ye not all deserve ter be rewarded fer yer loyal an' continued service ter the Imperium? Be it not our right ter be takin' what be owed to us as the active paws of 'is eminence? Mateys, I submit that we be due a voyage fer the good of ourselves and our 'omes.

"This Dismembre will be our finest yet fer raids, thinks I. We takes ter the seas, finds the snow-covered dwellin's o' the North an' plunder every port we find. Swift an' silent, we be goin' fer profit not blood. We takes the wrapped boxes from beneath dibbuns' fancy trees an' from within their knitted socks, an' we brings them back fer ourselves an' our fellows. Think on it, beasties, there be wine aplenty in their cellars, good food ter be feastin' on that they be 'avin' the time in their tedious lives ter slave over."

Jeshal searched his audience for their thoughts.

"We be idle fer too long, mates, that we be forgettin' what we are. We be vermin! Ancestors turn in their graves at the sight of us mopin' an' diddlin' about, shriekin' at a fur out of place. We be the ghosts of Giftsgivin' past an' 'tis high time we remind the woodlanders why their granddaddies kept a sharp sword above the mantel.

"Ye have until this eve to decide whether ye be comin'. Tell yer families an' kinsbeasts if ye fear ye won't return. Bring only that which ye need for we travel light. Hidebeasts, this be the start of changes to come. Tonight we sail."



Brek Larks/Rijard M. Chaos
Brek couldn't believe himself. He had decided to stay on board the whole day, that way if he wanted to he could just walk away before it was too late. The brown todd clutched the railings, half of him urging him to walk on the gangplank and walk away. The other half forced his claws to dig into the wood and paws not to move.

It wasn't like he could just leave, he didn't have any place to live other than the Hide, he had planned to rent an apartment on the harbour but when the payflow stopped he had to dig into his savings to survive. Besides, he had to stay. With Anithias gone promotion wouldn't come the todd's way as much, and Brek needed to be on the new captain's good side.

The thought of it made Brek send his attention to Jeshal. It seemed this ship had a pattern for captain's morals. Bad then Good then Bad again. The lad didn't want to have another evil vermin in charge of the vessel, he couldn't imagine what it would be like with Xhavek as captain. He was determined to make sure someone who had a conscience would be in charge next, perhaps it might even be him, perhaps not. But he would stop at nothing to make ends meet, even if that meant riding the world of the competition.

Now Brek felt like a hypocrite, basing his motives on morals and here he was, saying yes to raiding innocent creatures and destroying their holidays. He watched a scene playing in his mind, a murderous todd storming into a small home and stealing all the kit's presents. And if when one of the parents got in his way, he lifted his axe with purpose and brought it down on the creature. Then wishing a happy holidays and being on his way.

He shook the image out of his head, and soon he found himself heading for the plank. He was just about to step on when a familiar but annoying voice stopped him, "Hey Brek, where ya going?"

The todd rolled his eyes and growled under his breath. "Nowhere, Rijard," he replied bitterly.

"Okay, well hey if you're going to a pub get me some rum will yah?" The marten tossed a canteen to Brek which he barely caught. "Thank ye sir," Rijard said and walked off before Brek could refuse. As soon as he wasn't looking Brek threw the canteen into the water between the ship and the docks. Might as well stay... I need to stay.



Tomias Redford
Tomias had been working on the massive load of paperwork that the Hide seemed to always have. Personally if it wasn't for the pay increase he would go back to being the cook, at least he enjoyed cooking. Paperwork on the other hand, was probably the most dull job on the ship, and of course as Aide-De-Camp, he was pretty much the captain's personal slave. When Anithias was Captain, that wasn't much of a problem, however what with the new appointing of Jeshal as Captain, Tomias was sure that he would take advantage of his position. Just the mere thought of toadying after Jeshal made his fur bristle up with disgust. What crazed idea did Anithias have promoting the evil Ironclaw as Captain, when he could have... no... SHOULD have appointed that position to somebeast else who wasn't so, villainous.

Not that any of these thoughts were currently going through the head of Tomias Redford, as he had fallen asleep at about three o'clock whilst still working on the copious amounts of paperwork. He jolted awake at the sound of the loud bell, and Jeshal's bellowing. The nightmare had just begun it seemed, he thought as he absentmindedly pulled off a sheet of paper that had stuck to the side of his face as he slept. Getting up, Tomias stretched his back until he felt his spine crack right down, from his neck to lower back. As he walked to the door he quickly grabbed his shirt and pulled it on.

Once upon deck he stayed near the back of the assembled crew and leaned nonchalantly against the railing on the side of the ship. He listened to Jeshal’s rather evil plans for the Hide, and pondered to himself whether or not switching ships would be a good idea. Unknowingly Tomias shared almost exactly the same thoughts as Brek, about what would happen if the parents of these innocent dibbuns got in the way. Clenching his fists together at the thought of this made his blood boil. Knowing what it was like to lose parents to evil vermin, he could not, would not be a part of this. However he knew instinctively what the new regime of their vile Captain would be, and Tomias could only imagine what kind of sick punishments The Ironclaw would come up with for those who disobeyed his orders.

Despite this, he couldn't just stand back and let this evil go on. Despite being a fox, Tomias was no vermin. His parents raised him a goodbeast, and that is what he would remain.

"You have got to be kidding Jeshal," sneered Tomias, as he stepped forward, "so that’s your grand plan for the ship, stealing toys from baby beasts. Oh yeah that’s sure to make us richer than the Emperor," he continued as he walked to the front of the group, "however if you insist on forcing the crew to do evil deeds, then how about we raid one of those merchant vessels? They’re always loaded with gold."

He knew that his contempt of everything Jeshal stood for would land him in trouble, but yet he continued.

"There are other ways to get rich, instead of stealing from kits. How would you like it if some strange beasts came and busted into your house and stole all your stuff. Only a coward would steal from dibbuns, so what does that make you then, oh glorious leader? Nothing but an evil coward who takes pride in stealing from babes and ruining the lives of others."

There were a few murmured agreements from the crowd as Tomias glared at Jeshal, radiating the hatred for the ironclawed fox through his words and expression. He stopped caring about how much trouble he would be in, he would not follow Jeshal's evil regime.



Jeshal the Ironclaw
Barely a breath had passed out of Tomias’s mouth before Jeshal knew that he would be the beast to comment. Throughout the ranting fox’s speech, the new captain stared fixedly, his discomfiting grin having faded into a neutral expression of attentiveness. He had been expecting resistance from the opinionated todd but showed no anger. It was good to see a hot-blooded creature in the ranks but such a pity that he still retained the youthful naivety of black versus white and a crusading attitude to delusions of grandeur. Perhaps one day this ignorance would be broken, or perhaps Tomias himself would sooner die for the cause. The Ironclaw kept up his tepid composure in the face of the passionate hatred held by the current Aide. He had never been truly hated before. It should have upset him, but the unfortunate twists had settled within the copper todd for too long now. He was almost enjoying it.

“Ah, Master Redford,” he said, leaning his slight frame onto the railings with the aid of his paws. “Ye ought ter be careful. Some beasts may be thinkin’ yer becomin’ predictable, an’ that would be a tragedy indeed. What sort of creature would I be if I did naught ter address yer concerns with me plans? Lessee now, first off ye be thinkin’ I intend ter amass riches from babes alone? An’ toys ye say?”

At this point, Jeshal chose to begin pacing up and down the quarterdeck as he spoke, swishing his paws to and fro in a theatrical manner. His gaze flitted between the ether and the audience, his alluring, poisonous smile returning.

“But o’ course that be not the only gift ye be findin’ under their Giftsgiving trees nowadays. Ye be findin’ in the more extravagant settlements that dibbuns be receivin’ trinkets o’ shiny metals, adolescents be lavished wi’ superfluous jewellery so’s they can be battin’ their eyelashes at all the males, and let’s not be forgettin’ the sweets an’ delights what beasties like us never ‘ave the privilege ter taste...” He raised his brow and pointed to a random member of the crew. “What is it ye be ‘avin fer yer Giftsgivin’ feast, hmm? Fish? Crab? ‘Gates, me surprise be so great it be a wonder I ain’t dropped dead where I stand.” He gave a little chuckle. “An’ doubtless at present some o’ ye be cursin’ that this ain’t the case. I be digressin’, for shame...”

He whirled with a frightening speed back to the railings and looked to Tomias again.

“Yer point on merchant ships. Fine idea, matey, but it be lackin’ imagination an’ festive spirit. What’s more, as I be sayin’, this be not about physical harm. ‘Tis much easier fer a naval attack ter cause over-excitement in all the bein’ cooped up, an’ we don’ want ter be seein’ ladies an’ dibbuns leapin’ inter the ocean in fear. Life be precious, me friends, an’ ‘tis not ter be wasted. Not at this time o’ year.”

Jeshal sauntered toward the steps and slowly graced toward the deck. It was irritating how much he was milking these first orders.

“Lastly, as far as karma be concerned, I give not a stag hare fer beasts plannin’ on raidin’ my 'ome. All ye need is a good nose ter know where ter get anythin’ o’ value returned. Good luck an’ fair wind ter them, says I, for I’ll prepare an encounter o’ warm gratitude. For those what be fancyin’ themselves both thievin’ and causin’ damage ter me person, that be what family be for.”

Family, in Jeshal’s case would most likely come dressed in black and armed to the teeth.

“If the beasts we raid be not ready fer such an assault, then we will be a valuable lesson. They will learn how ter prepare against vermin less civilised than ourselves, an’ preserve their precious communities. Whether or not they be ready fer us, this mission will be needin’ skill an’ discipline. They won’t be trustin’ we ain’t there ter slit their throats, an’ they will likely fight hard. Ideally we gets in quiet like, but should the alarm be raised, all ye needs do is knock the fools cold. If there be a dibbun, what should ye do? What else be stockin’s fer? Shove the little rodents inter the socks ‘eadfirst. Keeps ‘em safe an’ shuts ‘em up.”

The crew parted somewhat to let the Ironclaw amble into their midst, his gaze trained upon Tomias.

“Are ye not witted or darin’ enough ter take the challenge, Master Redford? Do ye not trust y’self ter survive such a gauntlet? More be the pity, matey. Ye’ll be leadin’ the first party in.” Jeshal grinned. “An’ ye’ll enjoy bein’ a coward. Fer if ye don’t, ye’ll still be leadin’ the party even if yer all trussed up as a batterin’ ram.”

The Ironclaw smirked and looked around at the rest of the crew.

“Anybeast got any further comments?”



Brek Larks
“Anybeast got any further comments?”

Brek wanted to speak up at the captain. After hearing Tomias’ speech he felt he ought to do so as well. Tomias was just the blow, the others come much quicker if a second arrives.

The brown todd opened his jaw and spoke up, "I've got one sir!" He paused to let Jeshal acknowledge him, a knot grew in his stomach. I can't do this! he thought.

"What do ye want for Giftsgiving?" He panicked, and he could think of nothing else to say.



Kerri Quilane
"I think, perhaps, the Captain would like a little respect."

Nobeast knew quite how he had gotten there. Somehow, the unobtrusive new recruit Kerri Quilane had ghosted into the midst of the frisson and stood at the innermost edge of the grouping surrounding Captain and Upstart, almost opposite to Brek. He was a small, nondescript cat in all honesty; a physically unimpressive cream-furred specimen of the feline variety, he stood a head shorter than average and, dressed in all black from cravat to waistcoat to boots but for a grey dress shirt, looked nothing if not out of place amongst the penniless scavengers who comprised of the main crew, especially with his boyish features. A few gruff mutters of surprise and questions surrounding his appearance rippled through the gathering, but he paid them no heed; the main problem here was the red fox, and that was all he was able to put focus upon. Everything else was just white noise.

Tilting his head in the direction of the pair at stalemate, the feline flashed his two most striking features-brilliant blue eyes and an abnormally large smile-to the captain and his annoying charge, then flicked his slender tail and transformed that smile into an eerie grin. If first impressions to the new Captain were to go smoothly, he'd need to impress the copper fox, and this opportunity had presented itself most perfectly. Without further ado he addressed the crew, despite his back still being turned to more than half of them and his eyes fixed on Tomias.

"I cannot believe so much disruption can be caused over a little raid. Is everybeast but the captain so soft as to ignore our heritage and what this Imperium stands for? What are we, little moralistic mice? All of you who joined this ship for a reason have scraped the bottom of the barrel before – gamblers, drinkers, thieves – and you know that worse things have been done in your time. A potentially bloodless raid is suddenly too much for you?"

Giggling a little, the pale-furred tom blinked his clear blue eyes once and alternated the full glare of his fixed smile between Tomias and Jeshal now. The few crew that had been swayed into dissent by Tomias' earlier words looked a mixture of embarrassed or angered by the slight newcomer's needling, but indeed they were roused. It was working. Not once deigning to look at any of the assembly but the two main players, he pressed on swiftly, hoping for a win.

"Like it or not, we are by definition the vermin. Those stories little dormice tell their children on cold winter evenings? They have to stem from somewhere, and even if they like to portray us as a little dimmer than we actually are, we shouldn't deprive them of new tales. They never want to lift our label as 'cruel', so who are we to disappoint?"



Xhavek Mokorai
"Hahahahahahahahaha! Vell zaid, vell zaid indeed Recruit Quilane!" Xhavek's raspy voice cut through the air like a knife through butter. Despite the fact that he was a head shorter than most of them the crew moved out of his way as he strode to the front applauding slowly as he did so. He gave a passing glance to Brek and made sure it was long enough for the young fellow to know Xhavek had looked then the short lizard passed. Once he neared the little gathering Xhavek ceased clapping and delivered such a viciously cold glare to Tomias that would've made a demon quail in fear and despair.

"Az for you Offizer Redford, are you actually queztioning your orderz? Really? Are you zeriouzly zat ZTUPID!?!" Xhavek's roar actually made the fur ripple across Kerri and Tomias' faces. "Zis izn't zomething ve get to argue. Zeze are orderz. Zat iz ze end of ze matter right zere. Ve may be a rag-tag bunch of mizcreantz but ve are in ze navy Tomiaz! If ve vere actually planning on ze wholezale zlaughter of beaztz ZEN I might underztand your conzernz, but ve aren't. Vhat ve are about to do iz collect on profit. Zat'z it. And if you don't like it zhen you can give ze captain your offizer'z coat."

And there it was, the trump card. Xhavek hadn't often pulled this particular verbal maneuver on anybeast but Xhavek had had enough of beasts dithering about what was right and what was wrong. When it came to work you did it. No questions asked unless they were needed to get the job done. "You do realize zat if you prozeed you'll actually be propozing a mutiny right? Ziz izn't a pirate vezzel Tommy. Ve don't have ze leizure of tozzing a commander ve don't like overboard. Ziz iz ze Navy and if you don't like it ship out."

Xhavek wasn't defending Jeshal out of anything so blase as friendship. It was much simpler than that. The short monitor defended Ironclaw because the todd was in charge, nothing more nothing less. That was how the military operated and that was the end of it for the icy eyed lizard.


Padraig Kesey/Armina Rogue
Kesey whistled a merry reel as he strolled along the docks, a notable lift in his steps despite the overcast sky. As he passed the moored sailing vessels, wind whistled ominously through the rigging and hulls emitted mournful groans. Yet the middle-aged marten could not have viewed the day as anything but glorious. That cur, the "golden" Captain Freedom, had inexplicably resigned his commission as captain of The Golden Hide. This had been to the puzzlement of all involved; it was well known that Freedom enjoyed the rank and duty of captaincy, perhaps a little too much. Still, he was generally acknowledged to have been a good captain-- gentle with his crew, unwavering in his devotion, honest with all.

Kesey smirked. Honest. Now there was a misjudgment. Freedom had just as many skeletons in his closet as any of the ministers or politicians. As for his pretty little wife, there were indiscretions in her past that her husband had been rather reluctant to let come to light. For Kesey, it had been a simple matter of playing the right cards. Within minutes Kesey had coaxed a resignation from Freedom and a recommendation to the Minister of War that Jeshal be instated in his place, all in exchange for Kesey's silence.

Kesey checked his jacket pocket to make sure the folded testimonies and documents were still present. He had no intention of allowing the documents to disappear, in case Anithias decided to take his chances on having Kesey arrested for blackmail. Kesey had big plans for Bully Harbour, and he couldn't put them into action from the inside of a cell.

Kesey turned onto the boarding ramp leading to His Majesty's floating madhouse. Even the Hide had lost its glimmer; no golden sunlight shone from its hull, replaced by the frigid grey of winter timber. The gold had gone from the ship, replaced by a lurking, ominous presence. Kesey knew this presence. He had seen glimpses of it during Harlgren's reign, diluted by the forces of justice watching over the ship. But now the malicious presence had washed over the ship from bow to stern, scuttling through the rigging like lines of soldier ants. It whispered one message, again and again, in a soft, gloating voice:

"I have won. The ship is mine."

Kesey basked in the echoing presence, swells of power rising around him. The captain would never know who had given him his power, nor why. For Kesey, the "why" mattered very little to him anyway; he had proven something as much to himself as to the invisible powers watching his every move. I have done it. I have changed the balance of power. My place in the power structure of Bully Harbour is secure.

Kesey was drawn away from his reflections by a loud chorus of banter from the deck. Kesey's eyes narrowed as he observed a number of beasts, ranging from the new captain to a recruit whom Kesey had never before seen, in grand terms debating the authority of the captain and his right to order such a merciless undertaking. Kesey smiled. There was tension on the ship. That was good; the further the rift could grow between the captain and his officers, and between the officers themselves for that matter, the less they would be able to unite themselves come the day of reckoning. And if Kesey had his way, reckoning day would be coming soon enough.

--------------------------------------------------

Armina had never felt so tense and ill-at-ease in her life. She could not find any particular reason, and yet she knew precisely the source of her discomfort; the sudden removal of Anithias and the frightening choice of predecessor.

Armina knew she should be overjoyed at the change. She and Anithias had maintained what could barely be described as a civilized relationship, and what at times had amounted to little more than full-blown animosity. Jeshal had been almost preferable to her, despite his habit of gouging mice through the heart and smirking at everyone around him.

But something was wrong about him. Armina had caught just a glimpse of it in the glint of his eyes, a spark that seemed to whisper "I know what you do not." It was something dark and slimy that slithered about the ship whilst everybeast was asleep, watching them all in their most vulnerable state. Sometimes Armina could feel it staring at her as she lay in her bunk, trying to hide the fear eating away at her heart. She always awoke to tangled sheets and her pillow on the floor, as if she'd been thrashing about in the night. She shivered as she looked up at the bleak grey of the sky. Even the weather had grown cold, as if warmth were now afraid to touch the Hide.

Her attention was drawn away by commotion on the deck. A large complement of the crew were gathered around what sounded like an argument between the new captain, Xhavek, one of the recruits, and...

Armina's pulse rate jumped. "Oh, 'Gates," she breathed before dashing across the deck.

The young she-fox pushed her way through the ring of beasts, working her way to the center. She nearly collided with Tomias, barely managing to halt at his side. Her paw closed over his wrist, and she couldn't help but shake a bit as she whispered into his ear. "Tomias, don't do this!" she hissed. "It's not worth it. Not right now," she added, glancing at Jeshal.

A chuckle interrupted the fray, cutting through the tension like a butter knife in margarine. A few beasts turned to watch as an old marten in a flat cap and worn moleskin jacket wove his way into the circle. "Bravo, Mr. Mokorai," he called, clapping his paws twice before returning them to his pockets. "Yeh make a good point here – 'tis devotion t' duty yeh all shoul' be minden'."

Kesey lazily allowed his gaze to travel over the two foxteens. Those two... Kesey almost wanted to sneer. Their constant drama had worn out the crew long ago, to the point where no one even cared whether they stayed or went. The only reason they had even been kept aboard for so long was because Armina (and, by extension, Tomias) was under the Admiral's protection. Kesey was hoping the Ironclaw would soon see fit to cast the miscreant pair back into the Slups, where they belonged.

"Yeh all claim t' have loved Cap'n Freedom," he addressed, sauntering around the circle like some great orator. "The Golden Cap'n, they called him. The Admiral's golden lad. The poster boy fer the Imperium Navy. An' yet," he whirled to face the crew, his voice taking on an incredulous tone, "yeh kinnae even follow his example. 'Tis nae the first time yeh've had a cap'n ye dinnae particularly like. Most o' yeh will remember Harlgren, I'm sure!" A few of the crew shuffled uncomfortably at the memory of the monster monitor lizard. "An' yet, Firs' Mate Freedom never complained," Kesey pointed out. "He never once shirked from his duties. He never disobeyed a single order, nah matter how it migh' have cost him! An' yet yeh kinnae even find the respect t' address yer cap'n by his rank an' title." Kesey looked at the beasts around him. "Gentlebeasts, Ah am very disappointed," he stated simply.

Tilting his cap once to the captain, Kesey began to amble off through the circle. "Listen t' Mokorai," he called over his shoulder. "It migh' keep yeh alive."


Jeshal the Ironclaw
The reactions he was to achieve were beyond anything he had expected. Jeshal raised half a brow as Master Larks blurted out what he had apparently wanted to add to the tense scene:

"What do ye want for Giftsgiving?"

A quick-witted response came from his newest recruit, Quilane. The strange cat intrigued him and concerned him, seeming all too familiar. He planned to keep a close eye on the beast, perhaps even to befriend him. It was best to know where one stood with creatures that might come to be a threat. The delivery of his speech was impressive. On the greatest level, the Ironclaw felt honoured to be backed up so readily, but some part of him crawled with anxiety that Quilane was undermining him in a much more subtle manner than Tomias.

Indeed, much as he appreciated Xhavek’s follow-up contribution in his challenging, brisk fashion, Jeshal found himself clenching his metal claw very tightly lest he bark out an order for the monitor to stand down. He revelled in the fact that Redford was getting told what he needed to hear, but to have it blasted at him from every side would surely make the todd isolated and even more likely to rebel.

The Ironclaw readied himself to speak, but just to make matters more chaotic, Ms Rogue came bursting through the gathering and, to his surprise, began humiliating Redford even more in the way only a vixen could. Finally, along came the bringer of chaos himself, Padraig Kesey. His words rang with hideous truths. Although the highlight of their love of Freedom gave Jeshal a secret pang of jealousy, the statement that they should respect his wishes was a strong one. The fact that Anithias had not risen up and cast the murderous Harlgren from his position was a poetic comparison to the new captain. Not one of the creatures Jeshal had killed had died because he had wished it. They were accidents or misfortunes, every one. His crew were not to know the secret enjoyment, the thrill he had had in obsessing over the torturous build-ups to the end of their lives. Why was he the enemy in so many of their eyes? Simple distrust.

Before anyone else could add their two gilders, Captain Ironclaw took his opportunity to respond. “When ye’ve all quite finished,” he said calmly, his gaze flicking from Quilane to Mokorai and to Kesey. “I be appreciatin’ yer willin’ness ter cite the codes o’ conduct but I be quite capable o’ dealin’ with any matters that be arisin’. I ain’t as soft as ye all may be thinkin’, nor be I as foolish as ye be wishin’, so with every respect intended, stow yer faces.” The baffling grin was still there, not a trace of anger showed upon Jeshal’s face.

“Now, Redford be perfectly entitled ter express ‘is opinion so long as it be opinion only. He be not needin’ everybeast ter be tellin’ ‘im what be right or wrong, nor shovin’ it down ‘is throat ‘til ‘e be chokin’. Ye be a free beast, Tomias, where yer ‘ead be concerned.” He stepped forward until he was barely a foot away from the young todd. He spoke quietly. “But mind ye be markin’ me, matey, challenge me with more than yer thoughts and I will see ye starin’ at the inner sanctum o’ the brig at the very least. Do what ye will, but follow the Imperium, and, I be regrettin’ the way I be wordin’ it but should ye directly move against me, or indirectly in such a way that I be knowin’ it be you…” Jeshal simply shrugged and walked past Tomias. As he did, he growled into his ear. “I’ll be goin’ after the ones ye be cherishin’ most.”

Once more the Ironclaw addressed the whole crew. “So I be leavin’ it up to ye, friends. Follow me, know ye be causin’ no physical ‘arm and that yer pockets be filled with well-earned gilders, or leave now. That be me final word. Thankin’ ye fer yer presences.”

With his conclusion, Jeshal saluted and retired to his cabin, closing the door behind him.


Jeshal the Ironclaw/Macavity Ashpaw
The great Golden Hide, gleaming dully in the icy shallows, made berth at a frostbitten shore. The night was still and she had slipped into the bay with hardly a betraying wave, her crew quieter than the village of mice they were to steal upon. The Ironclaw had lain out the plans for the despicable raid during the journey:

A select pawful of trusted beasts would remain to guard the ship in the event of unforeseen woodlander ambush or, the more likely, mutinous sabotage. The rest were delegated various roles. Reindeer, those waiting on the rooftops to help their sleeker fellows in and out of the chimneys; the Elves, the beasts surefooted and sneaky enough to creep in and thieve the presents; the Spirits, to lurk in the shadows and either help disguise fleeing vermin with white blankets or clobber any early risers; and lastly, the Angels, waiting at the hill on the far side to set off the emergency fireworks - an ideal distraction for a getaway.

Jeshal stood at the prow, grinning wider than ever before as the ship was moored. Tonight he had traded his usual attire for a suit of blue velvet with fluffy white trimmings, secured to his thin frame by a thick black belt. Atop his head was a hat of the same colours and beneath his chin he had stuck a pointy white piece of cotton wool.

"Isn't that supposed to be red and white, Captain?" Macavity asked from his position beside him. The little wildcat was covered from head to toe in a white sheet, his bright eyes peering out from two small holes.

"Fer shame, Spirit, do ye not know yer history?" the copper fox snickered. "The Beast o' Giftsgivin' should not be wearin' red at all. 'Tis a custom stuck from a large bout o' marketin' an' it be 'ardly representin' our fine society, says I." He shrugged. "But mostly it be more difficult ter spot a beast in blue than red in the dark."

The Ironclaw turned his glittering eyes upon the crew. "A Merry Giftsgivin' ter ye all. Now, knock yerselves out." He smirked. "An' if ye be takin' that literally, 'tis most likely ye'll be left be'ind. Now get to! Oh, an' if any Reindeer ain't partnered up... they 'as ter go with me."


Brek Larks/Rijard M. Chaos
Brek certainly wasn't one of the few left aboard. Not after his clear objection to the raid even though he didn't speak out. Nor was Rijard, the clumsy fool wouldn't be any help as a Reindeer because he would become distracted. And definitely not as an Elf, he would most likely trip and knock over something waking up mice and blowing his cover and the entire raid. The marten was given the only suitable job for a pyromaniac drunk: and as ironic as it sounded Rijard had become an Angel.

Before long though he was fast asleep at his post with his fellow Angels not knowing until a nasty rumble came from his snout. Many times they awoke him which resulted in being awake for five minutes then dozing again. "I's too late fer me, I needs me teddy momma," he mumbled as he drifted back to sleep once more.

Brek on the other hand was working as an Elf, and after his Reindeer partner was ready and he made sure there was no fires below he snuck down the black coated chimney. A strip of fabric covered his snout and mouth careful not to breathe the filth in the air. As he finished his descent he brushed himself off to be rid of the black chunks his fur had collected in the small fireplace. The todd's eyes scanned around the room as he untied a sack from his back*. There was no excitement inside like there was when he was a young kit on his first Giftsgivings, in fact there was less than a third of what would be under there tree, but it didn't matter because there still would be loot to gain.

The brown Elf crawled out of the fireplace and pulled the stockings above from where they hung. Then he made his way to the tree, quietly grabbing whatever he could find and slowly pulling off the most shiny ornaments he could find. Satisfied with his treasure he stalked back to the fireplace; slowly and light-footed he walked until something new caught his eye. "Ooh cookies!"**

Two minutes and a mouth full later Brek signalled his Reindeer to hoist him back up the chimney with the sack of goodies over his shoulder.

*Unintentional rhyme.
**There you go Tomias, Brek got his cookies after all!


Armina Rogue
There were many things Armina hoped Tomias would never learn about her. The first was the horrors she'd encountered in her youth at the Fyolin Academy for Unwanted Kits, a place she still revisited in her nightmares. The second was the tendency of her thoughts to wander back to happy days with Valentine, despite their current frosty relationship and her commitment to Tomias. But the runner for third, closely tied with her days as a Furotazzi, was the thrill she felt at her new task.

Armina stealthily dropped from the chimney, sending ashes flying up around her. For the first time in two years she looked like a Fyadorian thief again: her fur and clothes were smudged with the dull black stains of soot, almost matching the darkness of her headfur. The grin spread around her face also hinted at the change in mood; Armina was thrilled beyond words at the opportunity to go toe-to-toe with chance again. That it was woodlanders suffering loss in the venture barely concerned her.

Armina slunk across the room, unfurling a large red sack from her belt. As she proceeded to scoop presents into the sack, she couldn't help but sing a little song that a few of the musical beasts had composed on the trip northward:

You're a mean one, Ironclaw,
You've got venom in your toes,
You're as cuddly as a serpent, you're as charming as Bootnose, Ironclaw,
You're really just as bad as you can go!

You're a viper, Ironclaw,
Your heart is packed with ice,
Your mind is filled with coffins and you've sold your soul out twice, Ironclaw,
You even make Fafnir Harlgren look nice!

There were some seven verses at current, with an eighth in progress – the group had gotten stuck on a rhyme for cataclysmic. None of them knew whether or not the Ironclaw was aware of their merry jest, or if he would approve, but it had done a suitable amount for his cause; rather than helping the ill-feelings of the crew to continue festering, it had turned the Ironclaw's strange and disturbing demeanor into a joke. The crew had begun to regard him more as an eccentric figure than a sinister one, allowing them to follow him with amused smiles on their faces. Even Armina had regained her trust for the captain.

Armina's thoughts were disturbed by a noise near the door. Turning swiftly, Armina locked her eyes on a mouseling standing in the door. The tiny babe was dressed in faded pink pajamas, its thumb in its mouth and a blanky tucked under its arm. It stared at Armina with wide eyes, making no motion but to observe her.

Armina was not a calculating beast by any stretch of the imagination; her cleverness was far outweighed by impetuousness born from years of split decisions. Still, she was on some level aware that she had three choices. The first was to put the presents back, pat the mouseling on the head, and ascend up the chimney. The second was to make a break for it and hope that the mouseling didn't scream. The third was to ensure the mouseling wouldn't scream anytime soon.

Armina had made her decision even before she acknowledged the options.

Five minutes later, Armina scrambled up out of the chimney, the gift bag following after her. In the room below, the mouseling sat topping the Giftsgiving tree, tied down with tinsel and a stocking over its snout.


Jeshal the Ironclaw/Tanya Ryalor (joint post)
The Grin- Ironclaw himself picked the largest house in the village, a veritable mansion, conveniently situated not too far from the shore. If anything went terribly wrong, he was not going to be the one farthest from escape let alone left behind. Empty sack slung over his shoulder, he picked his way carefully down the chimney. Three quarters of the distance required, he called up the shaft in a hushed voice, “More slack if yer please, Adm’ral!”

"Me pleasure, Cap'n- my arms're gettin' tired of yeh bulk anyways," Tox sneered, giving the copper fox a generous amount of slack by nearly releasing the rope altogether. Apparently she was still cranky at being forced to wear the red bobble-nose and felt antlers that came with being a Reindeer. Since the rest of the crew had been fortunate enough to obtain partners and Tanya had chosen to opt out by hiding under Bootnose’s bunk, the reluctant gagging noises she made in the vicinity as Jeshal passed made her the clear candidate. Choosing the one place no one would ever hide was her downfall.

Trusting her with the rope was Jeshal’s. The Elf Captain, attired as the Giftsgiving Beast, plummeted into the cold hearth in a shower of woodchips and ash. He froze in his painful, tangled position and listened for any disturbed sleepers. Satisfied that he had not woken the whole household, he twisted into a crouching position and unhooked himself from the Admiral’s leash. “One o’ these days, Tanya, ye be goin’ ter learn why I set paw on yer bleedin’ ship…” he whispered. Then what be keepin’ ye? his thoughts nagged. He gave a quiet snort and crept out into the lavish room.

The expected grin unzipped across his muzzle. He was in the master bedroom of the house, carpeted in velvety, woven moss and lined with sashes and drapes of silk. An old mouse slumbered at the far end of the room in a great canopy bed. Jeshal turned to scan the mantelpiece and swiped a couple of silver plates, sneering at a touching picture of the old rodent’s family close by. From there he tip-pawed for the door and slipped out into the hallway. The Ironclaw crept into each room that was unlocked, taking anything small and valuable. He bundled up an expensive-looking rug and used it to cushion the rattling items in the sack. Now for the main course, the fox flitted down the vast staircase and located the sitting room with its splendid tree and presents huddled about. Suppressing an excited giggle, he began to pilfer every gift he could.

Just as his sack swallowed the last present, there came a gasp at his back. “Gift-Father?” Very carefully, Jeshal remained crouched and turned to smile at the little mousemaid watching from the foot of the stairs. It wasn’t the terrifying smile he used on the Hide, but warm and gentle. She was too inexperienced in the world to see anything beyond.

“You’re a fox,” she said breathlessly.

“Aye, little one,” the Ironclaw replied in a hypnotically soft voice. “But does Giftsgivin’ not teach us ter be tolerant? I may take many shapes, miss, and I be visitin’ kits an’ dibbuns alike. There be bad woodlanders just as there be good vermin. Do not be afraid.”

The little mouse fumbled with her lip. “Are you taking the presents away? Was I bad?”

Jeshal shook his head. “Nay, miss. Ye’ve been an angel, so ye have. These gifts were not wrapped in elf magic like the ones I’ve put in their place. Ye may not see them but under the tree they be. Special paper that be invisible ter the naked eye. ‘Tis a new brand o’ Giftsgivin’. The fun o’ findin’ yer presents before ye open them, but don’t ye go feelin’ around yet. They won’t appear ‘til ye’ve been ter sleep, says I.”

She simply blinked at him. He stood up slowly and lifted the sack of presents upon his back.

“What’s wrong wiv your paw?” she asked, staring at the metal gauntlet.

“Not a thing, sweetling. Sometimes beasties be leavin’ me hot flasks o’ mulled wine. ‘Tis just so I don’t burn meself in me hurry. Lots o’ places ter visit, ye understand. Now, what say we get ye back ter bed, hmm? There might be some candied chestnuts in it for ye.”

The mousemaid brightened and scurried upstairs. The todd followed swiftly after, taking care that she did not alert anyone else of his presence. Once she reached her room she pinched the hem of her nightdress and curtsied.

“G’night, Gift-Father,” she whispered.

Jeshal smiled and placed a pawful of sweets into her palm before he returned to the master bedroom and closed the door behind. He let out a quiet sigh of relief and then smirked at the old mouse, still asleep. Letting the sack rest on the carpet for a few moments, the copper fox approached the bed and grinned at the unwitting creature. He flexed his claws…

Less than a minute passed and the Ironclaw hooked himself back onto the Admiral’s rope. He gave two good yanks, picturing her face as she was undoubtedly woken from boredom, possibly even envy, and chuckled under his breath before the rope was wrenched back so hard he learned how to fly.

When the old mouse awoke the next morning he would clutch his heart in terror at the sight of a canopy shredded to ribbons.​