Open Madness Or Brilliance

Jeshal the Ironclaw

Captain of the BlackShip
Staff member
This was the earliest Jeshal could remember ever intentionally getting to a job. It wasn't far from the ketch he had been sleeping on to commute to the imposing figure of the BlackShip, but he had wanted to see her in the pre-dawn shadows, to feel her gunwales under his paw, to listen to her creak and the lap of the waves before the majority of her crew arrived. Never had he been in command of so many beasts. The Hide in his day had been run by practically a skeleton crew. Here there were hundreds already enlisted, soon to be falling in from the taverns and their homes, with more crew bound to sign up today. He had done his best to vet every single one of his crew and he planned on finding out every last thing about them, within his limits of course. Doubtless the Ministries would have installed some of their spies aboard. They'd be fools not to, considering the fact the Imperium was handing one of its finest warships into the paws of a once-treasonous ex-pirate and confessed smuggler. If he sniffed too close to anyone the higher-ups didn't want him to, they would find ways, hopefully not fatal ones, to encourage him to back off.

He breathed the salt-air and smiled. He couldn't believe it. Though he had first come to these shores with vengeance in his heart, there had been a spark of wonder at the sight of this vessel when he had first seen her. Jeshal had longed for the BlackShip to be his. Instead, he had come to love the Golden Hide and find family, to make it on far shores from Bully. Threads of nostalgia wove through his heart as he imagined Zilaco walking these boards, a todd he might almost have called friend. Fair weather ter ye, Ol' Zil, wherever ye be.

As he made his way toward his cabin, he grimaced at a twinge in his side. This one he could not blame on age, a still-healing injury from the opera house attack. He was lucky to have got away with only minor burns and cuts, most of which were barely noticeable now. It wouldn't look good to be bleeding all over the paperwork. What did look good was his new coat his daughter had finished for him. It was nigh identical to his old one save for not being tatty and this cut did not have the unfortunate effect of making him look a bit portly. He wasn't exactly the same shape so many decades later. Running a ship this size would help with that. After finding out so much history that had brought them grief, it was a blessing that Jeshal could share this achievement with his wife. Like old times, and nothing like them at all.

Tot of whiskey poured, he enjoyed the rise of the dawn out of the stern windows. Once he was ready, he fixed the cabin doors open and bid his acting bo'sun Frogear direct the first batch of hopefuls aboard.

Captain Jeshal the Ironclaw sat at his desk, papers and ink at paw.

"Come on in and make y'self known, haharr!"



((Welcome to the BlackShip! Setting the ball rolling by taking in up to 5 writers on this thread for now. You can come talk to Jesh one at a time and explore the ship/chat to other beasts while you wait your turn, or he can see 2-3 in one go if agreed between you. If you're applying to be a regular ratings job, you can skip bothering with a signup if you want to and can start your own thread assuming your character has already signed on, but I'm absolutely happy to enjoy an introduction with anyone who wants it. If you want to sign up directly but 5 people are already writing here, hit me up on the Discord or DM me on the VI and I can either make a new thread with another round of signups or we can see how things settle here for adding any more :D))
 
The beast who proudly pranced through the door was not entirely unknown to the captain; indeed, it was that prior meeting which had brought the pale-furred fox aboard, shoulder cape and feathered plume both bouncing with every step, sheathed rapier swaying in time with the newcomer's tail. The fox, so clearly enamored of pastel blue as a theme, sank into a kneeling bow entirely inappropriate with the customs of the day, a flowering gesture from the paw indicating respect toward the seated captain. "Captain Ironclaw," the fox addressed him, voice higher-pitched than most males and, but for a bit of rough rasp in the tone, rather more feminine than masculine, "I do not know if you would remember me. We did honorable battle once, on a street amidst the great warehouses of the northern district. That day, you became the first beast to defeat me in single combat. I have known since that day, when you spared my life, that you were the beast whom I would faithfully follow and serve. I beg your leave to voyage under you, to chase the sun into the sea and ride the waves into the Hellgates themselves, should you ask it of me."
 
The Blackship loomed over the dock like a thunderhead, all dark timbers and iron teeth. Most beasts might’ve felt a shiver of awe standing beneath her bulk. Griblo Jankweed just licked his lips and thought of all the opportunity that came with such an intimidating vessel.

Ruffano had been the one to nudge him toward this little stunt. In his own words: “Jeshal knows me. Drop my name, make yourself useful.”

Loyal as ever, Griblo had taken it as his cue. If there was clout at the end of this gangplank, he wasn’t about to let it slip by.

He clambered aboard with all the swagger his wiry frame could muster, boots clacking on the deckboards. His vest was tugged straight, his rings flashed in the dawn light, and his smirk was lopsided perfection.

That’s when he spotted him.

Hells teeth, that was a lot of rabbit. Big as a badger, shoulders like the broadside of a barn, with a hammer dangling from his paw like it was just another cane. Most beasts would’ve given him a wide berth. Griblo? He went striding right over, earrings jingling with each confident step.

“Name’s Griblo Jankweed!” he declared, paw thrust forward like he was sealing a bargain before the rabbit could blink. “Figure we’re both here early t’make an impression, aye?”

His grin spread wide, sharp and jagged. He held the paw out, bold as brass, waiting for the massive rabbit to shake... or crush it.
 
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Ships were not something Friedrich considered at first. He had funds to escape easily, but where else in this world could he continue his work? Imperium was the only place that had more problems than chasing him for doing his work apparently. And he had some reputation here that was helpful in avoiding the laws he found pointless.

But now, that he was betrayed by the one beast he found understanding with, going onto the water sounded like the only choice to allow him working on his magnum opus. Navy also sounded reasonable. He was a soldier as a kit already even if he hated it. He still wasn't fond of the strict command, but he knew how to navigate it and well... where's the fighting, there is a steady source of subjects to test theorems on.

And luckily there was a need for a massive crew to the largest ship in the whole Imperium. Friedrich didn't care for the fame or infamy it and captain had, he just saw opportunity. Many beasts having to rely on his surgeries? He was thrilled at the idea alone of what he could do to them.

All those thoughts were happening as he entered the ship with his resume and equipment. Looking for a captain to sign in properly. He was snarly, for he found the ship too small for his hulking form. And then a ferret came up to him, trying to say his welcomes. Friedrich leaned onto his cane, which was his custom-made warhammer, as he looked down at the vermin appraising them. This Gribblo did seem wiry, a bit too thin and lanky but overall healthy at first. Great subject for testing if ferrets could really withstand extensive wringing.

For now it was time for rapport.

"Ja." He spoke using his right paw to grasp the offered paw firmly, putting his pawfingers to seek the veins while doing so. "Friedrich Nähenerv. Maybe you sav my clinic if you ever vent to Condos." He spoke in low, growly voice, equal parts calm and mad. "Better to be early zan lose an opportunity. I seek posizion of a Surgeon. You?" The rabbit continued while getting to the Captain's door he finally had found, hearing however with his giant ears that somebeast was inside talking.
 
Elara Mosswhisker stood at the base of the gangplank, her satchel securely strapped over one shoulder as the morning wind tugged at the hem of her tunic. The BlackShip loomed above her—massive and dark, its timbers still damp with sea mist, the scent of tar, salt, and iron heavy in the air. This was no merchant vessel or hospital tender; it was a warship, and she had no business being aboard. And yet, here she was.

She adjusted her satchel, checked the clasp of her medical kit, and stepped onto the gangplank. The deck was already bustling with activity—crew members moving with purpose, coiling ropes, checking rigging, and calling out in voices rough from sleep or the previous night’s revelry. Elara kept to the edge, staying out of the way as she scanned for signs of injury, illness, or imbalance—an old habit.

The cabin door was open as ordered. Inside, Captain Jeshal sat at his desk, quill in paw, reviewing a stack of rosters. He hadn’t noticed her yet; he was too focused on the papers, one ear twitching to the rhythm of the ship. Elara paused at the threshold, expecting to see a naval officer—stiff, formal, and perhaps disdainful of a civilian medic, especially one who was a hedgehog. But this beast— a broad-shouldered hare with fur streaked gray and a fresh scar along his side—wore his authority like something earned rather than given. She cleared her throat softly.

“Apprentice Nurse Elara Mosswhisker, reporting for duty, sir,” she said, her voice calm and clear, without embellishment.

(( @Jeshal the Ironclaw ))
 
To think she had nearly been too late to sign up on this magnificent dark beauty of a ship. The big otter could feel it the moment her paws touched the gangplank: this was a vessel with history. It was almost intimidating. For all the years she had spent aboard one ship or another, despite feeling far more at home on a rolling deck than solid land, it had never been aboard something quite this impressive.

Calara shifted the small chest she held under one arm so that it rested a little more comfortably. There wasn't much inside, just a few changes of clothing, a tin mug, a pouch with enough gilders in it to ensure she didn't go hungry between voyages, a small knife and whetstone. Of far more value were her javelin and buckler, both of which were strapped to her back. The weapon, sturdy and well-crafted according to the oldest of otter tradition, was wrapped with shark leather and decorated with wood-burned patterns and bore a tri-point steel head. The buckler was painted with white and blue wave-form patterns that identified her as a member of the Driftsong clan.

Following the bosun's direction towards the Captain's cabin, Cal pulled in a deep breath. Salt-air and ship smell. The best scent in the world. The otter took her place at the end of the line waiting to interview with the ship's commander and took a moment to glance at the other prospective crewmembers. A fair number of woodlanders, it would seem. Still an oddity in the Imperium. She saw both a hedgehog and a grey rabbit-- 'gates. The beast was even taller than she was. Time, she thought, would tell if the crew was as able as they all appeared now.
 
Griblo let out a strangled squeak as the rabbit’s paw clamped down like a smith’s vice, prodding at his veins like he was a specimen in a jar.

“Oi! oi! Easy there, bucko! Not so rough!” he yelped, wriggling to no effect. It took a sharp tug and an ungraceful twist to finally wrench his paw free, which he cradled against his chest, glaring daggers up at Friedrich.

“Gates, mate. Can’t say I’ve ’eard of ya afore, but that ain’t me usual turf.” His grin had slipped, his steel-blue eyes narrowing with suspicion. Something about this hulking hare-brained rabbit sat wrong.

He sniffed and straightened, trying to recover the swagger.

“Nah, I’m ’ere t’manage de bounty.” His eyes flashed as he said it, gaze flicking over his shoulder to the otter who’d just taken her place in line. “Be a banker type, ye kin?”

The words were barely out when he caught sight of the overdressed fox strutting past like a festival peacock, and a hedgehog slipping in right behind, straight through the captain’s door.

Griblo’s ears shot up.

“What’s all dis, then!? We got beasts cuttin’ in line after we got ’ere early!?” He barked it loud enough for the deck to hear, turning to Friedrich and the otter as though rallying witnesses to his grievance.
 
To think she had nearly been too late to sign up on this magnificent dark beauty of a ship. The big otter could feel it the moment her paws touched the gangplank: this was a vessel with history. It was almost intimidating. For all the years she had spent aboard one ship or another, despite feeling far more at home on a rolling deck than solid land, it had never been aboard something quite this impressive.

Calara shifted the small chest she held under one arm so that it rested a little more comfortably. There wasn't much inside, just a few changes of clothing, a tin mug, a pouch with enough gilders in it to ensure she didn't go hungry between voyages, a small knife and whetstone. Of far more value were her javelin and buckler, both of which were strapped to her back. The weapon, sturdy and well-crafted according to the oldest of otter tradition, was wrapped with shark leather and decorated with wood-burned patterns and bore a tri-point steel head. The buckler was painted with white and blue wave-form patterns that identified her as a member of the Driftsong clan.

Following the bosun's direction towards the Captain's cabin, Cal pulled in a deep breath. Salt-air and ship smell. The best scent in the world. The otter took her place at the end of the line waiting to interview with the ship's commander and took a moment to glance at the other prospective crewmembers. A fair number of woodlanders, it would seem. Still an oddity in the Imperium. She saw both a hedgehog and a grey rabbit-- 'gates. The beast was even taller than she was. Time, she thought, would tell if the crew was as able as they all appeared now.
Elara remained in the doorway of the captain’s cabin, standing with quiet stillness, her satchel resting against her side. She did not shift her weight. She did not fidget. She simply observed. When the otter arrived—large, confident, carrying herself with the easy balance of a beast born to the sea—Elara noted her immediately. The javelin, wrapped and secured, spoke of tradition and readiness. The buckler’s wave patterns marked her as Driftsong clan—renowned for deep-water voyages and storm navigation, at least, to her knowledge. Her chest was light, her posture was strong, and her breath was steady. A seasoned sailor. Not just hired muscle. A deckmate in every sense. Elara didn’t move aside, but she adjusted her stance slightly—shifting just enough to avoid blocking the entrance, while maintaining her position as a neutral presence in the captain’s space. She watched Calara take her place in line, saw the way she breathed in the salt air, the subtle lift at the corner of her muzzle. Homecoming, Elara thought. Not just a job. A return.
 
Griblo let out a strangled squeak as the rabbit’s paw clamped down like a smith’s vice, prodding at his veins like he was a specimen in a jar.

“Oi! oi! Easy there, bucko! Not so rough!” he yelped, wriggling to no effect. It took a sharp tug and an ungraceful twist to finally wrench his paw free, which he cradled against his chest, glaring daggers up at Friedrich.

“Gates, mate. Can’t say I’ve ’eard of ya afore, but that ain’t me usual turf.” His grin had slipped, his steel-blue eyes narrowing with suspicion. Something about this hulking hare-brained rabbit sat wrong.

He sniffed and straightened, trying to recover the swagger.

“Nah, I’m ’ere t’manage de bounty.” His eyes flashed as he said it, gaze flicking over his shoulder to the otter who’d just taken her place in line. “Be a banker type, ye kin?”

The words were barely out when he caught sight of the overdressed fox strutting past like a festival peacock, and a hedgehog slipping in right behind, straight through the captain’s door.

Griblo’s ears shot up.

“What’s all dis, then!? We got beasts cuttin’ in line after we got ’ere early!?” He barked it loud enough for the deck to hear, turning to Friedrich and the otter as though rallying witnesses to his grievance.
Elara heard the protest cut through the morning air—sharp, loud, aimed directly at her. She turned. The rat—Griblo, by voice and bearing—was glaring up at her from the line, ears up, tail lashing, clearly riled. The others—Friedrich the rabbit, Calara the otter—were watching now too. All eyes are on her. She didn’t freeze. She didn’t snap back. But she didn’t pretend the moment wasn’t real. With deliberate calm, she stepped back out of the cabin; she didn’t retreat far—just far enough to be clear she wasn’t claiming privilege, wasn’t trying to bypass the crew.
She looked at Griblo—not with challenge, but with acknowledgment.

“I’m new to the BlackShip. I don’t know the ways of this crew yet. I’m not here to disrupt. I’m here to support. If I stepped out of turn, I apologize.”

She didn’t bow. She didn’t shrink. But she offered the courtesy.
 
As soon as he saw the familiar grey-furred fox enter, Jeshal grinned. They were an odd one, which was a funny thing to think when he had been dressed up as a ghost when they had met, but he was no stranger to unusual crewmembers. For now, their flourishing bow was a flattery the captain was happy to enjoy.

"Well met again! I believe we'll be lucky ter have such a skilled swordsbeast aboard. First things first, I'll be having your name as 'twas me misfortune not to glean it when I were prancing about as a ghost. Then tell me the position ye desire, your aspirations, and anything else ye deem relevant to me knowledge."

His brow quirked at the sight of the surprisingly enormous rabbit in the doorway behind Cordan before his gaze flitted to a small hedgehog introducing herself as Nurse Elara. Jeshal raised a paw and nodded in a polite acknowledgement in advance of someone in the queue complaining at her. Least two woodlanders already, how much everything be changed. Do hedgehog spines make them float easier? He didn't know where that thought had come from and it was of no use to him right now.

Focus returned soley to his first petitioner. There was a chair slanted just to the right of his desk and toward him, positioned so that beasts could choose to take a seat or remain standing without looking awkward whichever their decision.​
 
Friedrich internally revelled in seeing the Ferret struggle against his grip, thanks to having his paw fingers on their veins he also felt how their heartbeat went up rapidly. Wunderbar, zey vill do vell. He thought to himself as Gribblo finally got out of his grasp.

He listened passively to their wish to become a purser. It was good to know that in case it would happen. There was some shame in knowing he would not then easily explain should anything happen to them... but at least they would be a good practice to keep their skills honed.


"I see." Friedrich only had managed before too noticing there were beasts that cut the line with no hesitation. This angered him, he thus readjusted the warhammer in his paw and grasped it properly. While Gribblo was crashing out, Friedrich swung his weapon onto his shoulder with no effort at all.

"Next beast to cut ze line vill need a surgeon." He growled out the obvious, his ears perked fully now. With those, he was positively bigger than any beast on the deck so far.

Then he put his other paw on Gribblo's shoulder.
"And you vill go vith me." He stated, still staring at all potential subjects he envisioned.
 
Sea and sand, the rabbit had a temper as big as the rest of him. That was bound to end well. That hedgehog seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, though. Cal stepped forward, enough to throw her lot in with Elara, deliberately not enough to give the impression she was angling for the Captain's cabin.

"Oy, no harm, no foul. A beast's allowed to make an honest mistake, isn't she? No need to start off on the wrong footpaw."

The otter offered Elara a friendly smile. "First time on a ship, miss?"
 
Cordan, seeming to take the captain's response as permission, drew his rapier and offered it up, paws supporting it along the blade just beneath the hilt and midway along the blade. "In whatever capacity you demand of me, my captain, I will serve," he swore. "What skills you need of me, I shall commit myself to learn. I offer up my skills as a duelist, my unwavering loyalty, and my oath to live or die as that service demands." He hesitated before adding, "On behalf of my sister, I convey her willingness to serve as well, to put her ability as a medic to use for the betterment of the crew. Though I cannot swear for her, where one of us goes, so too always goes the other, and she will follow me in my service to you without reserve."

He glanced toward the assembly of new crewbeasts gathering behind him, a hint of embarrassment at taking up space in the line, and a touch of curiosity at beasts who might well be his crewmates and comrades-in-arms in a short time. It was a motley brotherhood to be certain, but no more so than some of the heroic questblades of old.
 
Kal was not first, nor biggest, nor the most experienced beast that arrived that day to search for new opportunities. She avoided the navy like plague for the past few years, worrying about all of the possibilities she could be recognized or forced to accidentally interact with people she knew beforehand. This time though, the crew seemed to be new, the ship seemed imposing, and her money was tight - well, the last factor being the most prominent. She pondered about Smudgies for a while, as an alternative, but that seemed riskier both on the front of duties and interactions with higher classes.

She took a deep breath and took her place behind small but rowdy crowd of beasts seemingly at odds with eachother. She watched them closely, but decided to wait her turn in relative peace. She arrived right on time to hear the declarations of readiness by a beast on behalf of them and their sister, which did make Kal's brow rise slightly. She was unsure, if such spectacle was the norm in the navy, because it sure as hell was not on ships she had opportunity to work on.

Listening in to the conversations, she pondered about what to say and how to present herself. She was probably above sweeping decks already, but seeing this crew she might have to reconsider. On the other hand, she did have sills and education a lot of seabeasts did not - the choice was whether or not to reveal them.
 
Griblo gave a little snort at the hedgehog’s courtesy and the otter’s smoothing-over, flicking his paw in a dismissive wave.

“Ah, off wit’ ya’s.”

That was when the massive rabbit hefted his warhammer like it weighed less than a broom handle and growled his threat to the deck at large. Griblo’s ears shot up, alarm flashing across his face for a heartbeat, then he plastered on his grin and latched onto the moment like it was his idea all along.

“Aye, wot ’e said!” he crowed, jabbing a claw toward Friedrich as if they were suddenly in league.

The paw on his shoulder, though, made his fur prickle. He leaned away from it as best he could, smirk sagging into a nervous grimace.

“Jes’... don’t touch me ag’in.”
 
Friedrich internally revelled in seeing the Ferret struggle against his grip, thanks to having his paw fingers on their veins he also felt how their heartbeat went up rapidly. Wunderbar, zey vill do vell. He thought to himself as Gribblo finally got out of his grasp.

He listened passively to their wish to become a purser. It was good to know that in case it would happen. There was some shame in knowing he would not then easily explain should anything happen to them... but at least they would be a good practice to keep their skills honed.


"I see." Friedrich only had managed before too noticing there were beasts that cut the line with no hesitation. This angered him, he thus readjusted the warhammer in his paw and grasped it properly. While Gribblo was crashing out, Friedrich swung his weapon onto his shoulder with no effort at all.

"Next beast to cut ze line vill need a surgeon." He growled out the obvious, his ears perked fully now. With those, he was positively bigger than any beast on the deck so far.

Then he put his other paw on Gribblo's shoulder.
"And you vill go vith me." He stated, still staring at all potential subjects he envisioned.
Elara didn’t react when Friedrich swung the warhammer onto his shoulder. She didn’t tense. She didn’t look away. She had seen large beasts before. She had seen weapons. She had stood in rooms where violence simmered in the air like heat from stone. A raised weapon didn’t mean action. It meant intention. And she knew the difference. When Friedrich declared that the next beast to cut the line would need a surgeon, Elara met his gaze—calmly, without challenge, without fear. “I’ve stepped aside,” she said, voice even, carrying just enough to be heard by those nearby. “And I’ll wait my turn." She didn’t raise her voice or challenge him; it was simply a calm statement of fact.
 
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Sea and sand, the rabbit had a temper as big as the rest of him. That was bound to end well. That hedgehog seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, though. Cal stepped forward, enough to throw her lot in with Elara, deliberately not enough to give the impression she was angling for the Captain's cabin.

"Oy, no harm, no foul. A beast's allowed to make an honest mistake, isn't she? No need to start off on the wrong footpaw."

The otter offered Elara a friendly smile. "First time on a ship, miss?"
Elara turned her attention to the otter, Calara, as she stepped forward. The gesture was small but significant—a show of support in a moment that could have escalated into hostility. Elara met the otter’s smile with a slight nod—measured, but not cold. It conveyed gratitude, not dependence.

“No,” Elara said, her voice steady and clear. “This isn't my first time on a ship, but it is my first time aboard one like this. I’ve served on coastal runs—medical transports, mostly, and supply tenders. But I’ve never been on a warship. I've never been part of something with this much… weight.”

She meant more than the physical hull; she was referring to the history, the crew, and the unspoken currents running beneath the deck. Curiously, she asked Calara, "You’re Driftsong," nodding toward the buckler. "I’ve heard that name. I read about it in a book somewhere. They’re storm runners, deep-water navigators. You’ll know this ship better than most by the end of the first week."
 
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Griblo gave a little snort at the hedgehog’s courtesy and the otter’s smoothing-over, flicking his paw in a dismissive wave.

“Ah, off wit’ ya’s.”

That was when the massive rabbit hefted his warhammer like it weighed less than a broom handle and growled his threat to the deck at large. Griblo’s ears shot up, alarm flashing across his face for a heartbeat, then he plastered on his grin and latched onto the moment like it was his idea all along.

“Aye, wot ’e said!” he crowed, jabbing a claw toward Friedrich as if they were suddenly in league.

The paw on his shoulder, though, made his fur prickle. He leaned away from it as best he could, smirk sagging into a nervous grimace.

“Jes’... don’t touch me ag’in.”

Elara observed the change in Griblo’s posture—the way his bravado snapped back into place like a frayed rope pulled taut, revealing a flicker of unease beneath his smirk. She noticed how he leaned away from Friedrich’s paw, a subtle yet unmistakable gesture. Friedrich had spoken up and asserted dominance, and Griblo had adapted to it. Elara remained where she was—slightly apart, with her satchel in hand, her presence quiet but unmissable. She didn’t look at Friedrich or Griblo. Instead, she let her gaze drift over the deck, the rigging, and the sky. A healer didn’t always need to speak. Sometimes, the most important thing was to witness— to see who flinches, who steps forward, and who uses strength not to protect, but to assert.
 
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Friedrich let go of the ferret. Noting that they will get some extra examination when the time comes. And it will be as physical as it gets, just to see them squirm was worth the effort. Gribblo honestly should be thankful for already securing himself the position of Friedrich’s control beast. One that will be kept in best shape for the sake of research.

The other beasts reacted as Friedrich wanted. Good, he wouldn’t want to actually have to already paint the deck red before he was employed to do so. He still kept his warhammer at ready but he was no longer glaring over the others. Instead he focused on what his big ears had gathered. Specifically the fact that the nearby hedgehog was mentioning their medical skills. Competition wasn’t something Friedrich was to accept but if they were his subordinates? He had to also make rapport with them.

So he butted in bluntly. “Friedrich. Var surgeon. You are of medical profession? Vat is your expertise? If we are going to vork together, I would like knoving your skills.”
 
Giving Cordan an easy smile, Jeshal gestured gently with his right and real paw for the fox to rise. Although he was not completely sure of the situation, he felt it possible he had already met the sister however briefly. That this might be another two beasts in one gave his heart a slight squeeze in memory of another fox with grey fur.

"Yer loyalty be as valuable an asset as your duelling. With no disrespect to these abilities, I be placing ye down as a swabbie while ye learn the basics o' sailing. Rest assured ye'll find chances to show us what ye be made of." Jeshal slid a piece of paper toward Cordan, which was mostly a grid detailing names and signatures and a simple heading of 'BlackShip Muster'.

"Write your name on the roster if ye can and your signature. Otherwise an 'X' be acceptable and I'll put it to letters best I can. If your sister could please sign in her own right when she be able. One last thing before ye do — an optional question: should this ship ever require its crew to make a formal oath in service to Her Imperial Majesty, would your answer be 'yea', 'nay', 'abstain', or 'mind yer business'?"

His grin was playful, his own loyalties unreadable.

((Apologies, I'll pop ye as a Deckswab for now as I can't see sailing expertise in their bio 👀))

@Corda & Cordan LeConte
 
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