Open Madness Or Brilliance

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

All his years as a pirate, and later a smuggler living among lemurs, allowed Jeshal a particular understanding of equality, or some sort of equity, among beasts. That said, it was still a novelty to his brain that the Imperium accepted woodlanders, and that he, too, now needed to marry those concepts. Friedrich was more easily united with vermin, considering how fearsome and forthright he was. How often had anyone seen a rabbit with sharp teeth? Ms Mosswhisker, however, spiny though she was, looked to be a prime example of the Harbour's progression.

"Preventive care, ye say? Unless it be your intent to shove beasts out o' the line of cannonballs, I may presume ye be telling beasts their bedtimes and when ter brush their teeth?"

His tone was playful.

"Japes aside, Nurse, firstly feel free to educate me and if ye have any documentation concerning your practices, references an' the like, I'll be having them."

@LightSeeker ​

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo beamed, chest puffing at the captain’s words.

“Aye, aye, Cap’n! Ye won’t regret it, sir! Assistant Purser Jankweed, reportin’ fer duty!”

He gave a sharp nod, just about managing to look dignified.

Then Friedrich’s paw clamped down again. The ferret squealed, feet skittering uselessly against the deck.

“Oi! Oi! I said don’t touch me! Hells’ teeth! What d’ye mean examina...? I...I’m healthy, I swear it!”

The ferret twisted, trying to wrench himself free, voice breaking into a panicked yelp.

“Yeowch! ’Elp, mates! ’Elp!!!”

His protests echoed down the passage as he was hauled bodily toward the infirmary, claws scrabbling, tail thrashing, the new “Assistant Purser” looking more like contraband seized by customs than a proud new crew member.

 

[LightSeeker]

All his years as a pirate, and later a smuggler living among lemurs, allowed Jeshal a particular understanding of equality, or some sort of equity, among beasts. That said, it was still a novelty to his brain that the Imperium accepted woodlanders, and that he, too, now needed to marry those concepts. Friedrich was more easily united with vermin, considering how fearsome and forthright he was. How often had anyone seen a rabbit with sharp teeth? Ms Mosswhisker, however, spiny though she was, looked to be a prime example of the Harbour's progression.

"Preventive care, ye say? Unless it be your intent to shove beasts out o' the line of cannonballs, I may presume ye be telling beasts their bedtimes and when ter brush their teeth?"

His tone was playful.

"Japes aside, Nurse, firstly feel free to educate me and if ye have any documentation concerning your practices, references an' the like, I'll be having them."

@LightSeeker ​

For the first time, Elara gave the Captain a smile. A small one that crinkled the edges of the hedgehog's eyes. "And I assume 'Captain' means you'll stand at the helm, bark orders, and drink all of the grog?" She replied, her tone equally witty and dry. “Preventive care begins with hygiene,” she said, voice steady, neither defensive nor detached. “A ship like this lives or dies by how well it manages illness before it spreads. A single case of fevered lung-rot, dysentery from contaminated water, or sepsis from an untreated wound can disable more crew than cannon fire.” From within the same satchel, she produced a second document: a folded parchment sealed with university wax. "My certification as an Apprentice Nurse was issued upon successful completion of the five-year clinical program at the University of Length Hospital. Includes training in trauma stabilization, infection control, field surgery support, and public health protocols. If you require further documentation,” she continued, “I can request supplemental records from Length’s administrative office. However, I have brought all personal credentials and am prepared to begin duties immediately—whether that means inspecting berths, organizing the infirmary, or conducting intake assessments.”

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

It would be a lie to say that Jeshal wasn’t a little bit dazzled by Elara’s resume along with her wit. Naturally, experience and skill would have a lot to say for itself, Gates knows he wasn’t about to dismiss his previous two surgical candidates (a day for healing it seemed – hopefully this was a good omen rather than an ill one for upcoming battles) only on a matter of paperwork. Still, this was a glowing report so far.

Finding his smile genuine, he took the offered documents.

“That be plenty for the time being. Dr Kiptooth — or Mr, depending on which be what he perceives the highest title for ‘imself — will see to coordinating all physician personnel aboard. If ye’d sign your name on the roster, we’ll set ye up as a surgeon's mate. ‘Tis somewhat of a catch-all title. Ye may be called Nurse, Miss, or Ms, as befits your preference and qualifications.”

@LightSeeker ​

 

[LightSeeker]

It would be a lie to say that Jeshal wasn’t a little bit dazzled by Elara’s resume along with her wit. Naturally, experience and skill would have a lot to say for itself, Gates knows he wasn’t about to dismiss his previous two surgical candidates (a day for healing it seemed – hopefully this was a good omen rather than an ill one for upcoming battles) only on a matter of paperwork. Still, this was a glowing report so far.

Finding his smile genuine, he took the offered documents.

“That be plenty for the time being. Dr Kiptooth — or Mr, depending on which be what he perceives the highest title for ‘imself — will see to coordinating all physician personnel aboard. If ye’d sign your name on the roster, we’ll set ye up as a surgeon's mate. ‘Tis somewhat of a catch-all title. Ye may be called Nurse, Miss, or Ms, as befits your preference and qualifications.”

@LightSeeker ​

Elara would have found deep irony in the fact that the Captain had offered her, a Nurse, the position of assistant suregon before Fredrick. Though she wasn't privy to that conversation, there was a sort of meta-irony to the fact that a less experienced woodlander was offered the spot.
Elara gave a small, measured nod as the captain accepted her documents. She didn’t watch him read them. That would have been pressure. Instead, she kept her posture relaxed but attentive, her paws at her sides, one still resting lightly on the strap of her satchel. When he returned the papers and offered the position—surgeon’s mate—she acknowledged it with quiet professionalism. “Surgeon’s Mate is acceptable,” she said. “I’ll sign the roster.” She reached into her satchel for her pen and ink vial, then stepped forward to the desk only when he indicated the document. With clean, legible script, she wrote her name on the dotted line. “Thank you, Captain,” she said. “I’ll begin by assessing the infirmary and storage conditions. If Dr. Kiptooth has established protocols, I’ll review them before initiating any intake evaluations. Otherwise, I’ll draft preliminary hygiene and triage guidelines for your approval.”

 

[Corda LaConte / Cordan LeConte]

Many a season had passed beneath the keel since Kiptooth had last set up aboard a ship proper. The Hide had been his home for long enough that the space was all but customised to his needs back then, everything in its place and within easy reach of his paws; the BlackShip, being a much larger affair with a crew to match, had maximised its space and would take some getting used to. There were more cupboards and shelves than even his own extensive collections could ever hope to fill, plenty of space in private quarters for his books, and the pervading scent of verbena which had been introduced that morning (Kiptooth knowing full well that once they were underway this place would never smell pleasant again). He’d have to get a carpenter down here eventually to move some shelves lower to match his restricted reach, but aside from that this was as perfect a workplace as one could hope to have at sea.

Stacking another row of bottles neatly inside one of the medicine lockers, enjoying the pleasant clink of glass in doing so, he had fallen into a meditative rhythm with unpacking - so much so, in fact, that he almost startled at the rap of paw on wood. It took a moment to bring the stranger into focus as he strode closer, noting them to be a young vixen to whom he extended a silvery paw and smile.

“That would be me, miss,” the old marten replied, “Kiptooth, at your service. How may I be of assistance? There’s not much of interest down here for a newcomer – that is, unless you’re here for a medical post?”

Corda started at the elderly marten's voice, but relaxed at its kindliness. Compared to the hare on the deck above, he seemed far safer to the skittish vixen. "Apologies, Doctor," she addressed the surgeon, stepping into his domain and clasping her paws before her. "My name is Corda LaConte. My brother and I are newly of the crew. I am hardly a medical professional compared to many on the ship," she admitted, "but I have some practice born of necessity, and, if you will grant your patience with me, I would gladly learn from your teaching and example, and lend my paw wherever needed."

 

[Kiptooth Rowanheart]

It was evident by his expression that news of this influx of “medical professionals” had yet to reach Kiptooth. The BlackShip was a monster of a vessel: it came as pleasant surprise to know there should at least be adequate paws around to help with managing the sheer numbers of crew. It had been exhausting enough for himself and Julia, back in the day when he was fit and spry. Now? he’d happily take all the help he could get.

For now the marten elected not to push the vixen on what instinctively felt a low opinion of herself: she seemed polite, respectful and open to learning – by all accounts a model student and likely far more capable than she was crediting herself.

Kiptooth’s nose wrinkled as he smiled, the gesture just upsetting the glasses perched upon his muzzle. “You’ll be most welcome, Corda,” he assured. “This ship is going to be quite the task to keep up with and I’d be grateful for any assistance you’re willing to give. Now I don’t know what specifics you might want to focus on with your learning but I’m certain there’s something between these old ears I can pass on.” A wink and he nodded to the decks above. “Did you say that there are others interested in working here? Hm. Perhaps once this place is in order I should see about having a word with you all. In the meantime, perhaps you can tell me a little about yourself and your brother: what made you want to take up a post on a ship like this?”

 

[Corda LaConte / Cordan LeConte]

Corda fumbled her way through a curtsy at the doctor's kind offer. "I would be glad to learn anything you wish to teach, sir," she murmured, eyes downcast. She looked up at his question, surprised by the genuine kindness and interest in her that he demonstrated. "Well, it was my brother's dream to go out on adventures, sir," she explained. "He's always admired adventurers and in particular the pulp Alkamarian novels of the rapiériste. Serving aboard a naval vessel, particularly one with a somewhat tenuous connection to naval doctrine," she allowed, "seemed to offer him the opportunity he was looking for. And, well, wherever he goes, I go too. That's how it's always been between us." Explaining the nature of her relationship with her brother was a bit much; she was rather hoping they would both prove themselves valuable before any questions could be raised.

"If I may, Doctor," she inquired, stepping forward and examining the space allotted to them, the many drawers of surgical instruments each carefully latched to prevent them from sliding open in a storm, "what brought a beast of your, ah, experience and pedigree out onto the sea? Surely any hospital in the nation would clamor for your services, and with far less risk to yourself involved."

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Though he had been experienced in ensuring he read the fine print back in his ministry position, Jeshal was less concerned with admissions. It was a big enough ship and back in his day he hadn't even needed any qualifications to trip upward into rank. Competence, experience, occasionally trust, and generally just being there had sufficed. He would leave medical dealings to old Kip. For all it mattered to him, the papers appeared genuine.

"Very forward thinking. I'll be pleased to give them an eye, that I will, pending Kiptooth's designations for the lot of ye." He prepared to ink in her assignment on the separate sheet he held for positions. "See Frogear for your sleepin' space. He's the surly-lookin' rat with a voice like a trombone, then make your way down to the infirmary, if ye please."​

@LightSeeker (Feel free to ask him more questions if wished, otherwise she'll be off toward Kip in your other thread )

 

[LightSeeker]

Though he had been experienced in ensuring he read the fine print back in his ministry position, Jeshal was less concerned with admissions. It was a big enough ship and back in his day he hadn't even needed any qualifications to trip upward into rank. Competence, experience, occasionally trust, and generally just being there had sufficed. He would leave medical dealings to old Kip. For all it mattered to him, the papers appeared genuine.

"Very forward thinking. I'll be pleased to give them an eye, that I will, pending Kiptooth's designations for the lot of ye." He prepared to ink in her assignment on the separate sheet he held for positions. "See Frogear for your sleepin' space. He's the surly-lookin' rat with a voice like a trombone, then make your way down to the infirmary, if ye please."​

@LightSeeker (Feel free to ask him more questions if wished, otherwise she'll be off toward Kip in your other thread )

Elara gave a single, respectful nod as the captain spoke. “Understood, Captain,” she said, voice calm and clear. “I’ll report to Frogear for berth assignment and proceed directly to the infirmary afterward.” She didn’t linger. Didn’t offer additional remarks or request clarification beyond what was necessary. The moment was administrative, not personal—and she treated it as such. With quiet efficiency, she resecured her satchel over one shoulder, ensuring her documents, field journal, and medical tools remained properly stowed. She cast one brief glance at the cabin’s stern windows—where sunlight had deepened into blue, the first light now sharp against the sky—then turned with deliberate composure toward the door. Her steps were measured as she exited the cabin, closing the door gently behind her.

 

[Kiptooth Rowanheart]

One ear twitched, but aside from the smile still hovering about his muzzle there was little disguising the tinge of concern in his eyes. Kiptooth had witnessed all manner of young and eager recruits across the seasons throw themselves into service, heads filled with stories from families or, indeed, books. Reality often proved a rude awakening during the first few weeks: the strict monotony of life at sea, sharply contrasted by the absolute carnage of naval warfare. There was little glorious in it, as far as the marten was concerned (particularly after the first cannon wounds had graced his eyes), and his heart went out to the vixen for her commitment. He just dearly hoped Corda wouldn’t live to see her brother stretched out on one of the surgery tables someday, they sounded inseparable.

Corda’s follow-up question gave the old surgeon pause for a moment whilst he considered an answer. “A perceptive question,” Kiptooth remarked. “Be that as it may – very flattering, by the way – it’s more of a return to an old post. I used to serve aboard the Golden Hide some years ago with Mrs Keltoi and Mr Ironclaw; when I was asked to lend a paw settling things in and as some insurance in case no surgeons were available, I rather fancied another trip.” His eyes crinkled with a good-natured grin. “Besides, much as I love my books and lectures there’s something to be said for getting one’s tail too attached to a chair. Rather think if I didn’t say yes now I’ll be too old and creaky to manage it next time.”

 

[Corda LaConte / Cordan LeConte]

Corda listened to the doctor's rationale, privately relieved that his participation was seemingly for the experience and the company of the crew and officers. She'd met enough beasts who did their work strictly for the pay and generally found a certain strain of resentfulness about them that made them sour. Her mind went to the very rude hare up on deck, who certainly seemed like he was working for the prestige and pay. She didn't know if she'd want to stay if he was in charge of her.

"Well, you appear to be in good health sir," she offered, "so, barring any events that change that-" admittedly not an impossibly aboard a warship, "-then you should be able to continue your work for a great many years yet. I'm certain that everyone on this vessel shall be grateful for your presence, especially once they are in need of your expertise."

She hesitated, considering how to broach a certain matter. The captain was aware of her and her brother's situation, having met them before, but... "Doctor, I feel it only responsible to warn you," she advise him. "During times when my brother is required for his duties, I'm afraid I will be unavailable. I promise you, we shall both work extra hard to make ourselves available and useful to the ship in turn."

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Jeshal smiled wistfully as Elara took her leave. Teething issues aside, it looked like there might be more capable beasts aboard this ship than there had been on the old loony bi- Hide. He scribbled down 'surgeon's mate' beneath the previous two names with the same title and smirked to himself over how Kip was going to handle it all.

Once he had put things back in their places upon his desk, he called toward the door.

"Next beast, make yerself known!"​

@Calara Driftsong

 

[Calara Driftsong]

Judging by Elara's posture as she exited the Captain's office, it seemed that meeting, at least, had gone well. Then again, the hedgehog hadn't seemed the sort of beast who would tell one way or another. It wouldn't have been the professional thing to do. Any further musing on the otter's part was cut short by the captain's authoritative voice.Calara stepped forward and pushed the door open.

"Calara Driftsong, requesting a position aboard your fine vessel, cap'n."

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Another woodlander. After all this vulpine supremacy nonsense, the BlackShip was going to look like a circus. Was this some sort of diversity drive from the Ministries? Jeshal didn't mind, of course. He was accustomed to the weird by now, but this was all such new territory for him after so long away from the Imperium. Otters at least weren't a completely uncommon sight from his smuggling days and they were impressive beasts in a fight.

"Fine day ter ye Ms Driftsong! What position is it ye be seeking? Advance warning, if ye be another surgeon, we'll be renaming this ship Band O' Butchers."

@Calara Driftsong ​

 

[Calara Driftsong]

The otter grinned. "I'm afraid the day the crew needs me to provide more than the most basic first aid will be a bad day, as my skills tend to run more in the way of making wounds than patching them up. But I'm a good paw on a ship and have more'n likely spent more of my life on the waves than the shore. If you're still lookin' for officers, cap'n, I know how to keep beasts in line aboard a vessel--"

Here, she paused, her toothy grin fading to something somewhat more wry than before.

"Granted, never one quite so impressive as this. And if you're not looking for a mate or a bosun or the like, I'm more'n experienced enough to add another able seabeast to your crew."

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Though wary not to get himself swept away by the charismatic, Jeshal indulged in allowing himself a current fondness for this recruit. She knew what she was about and it was refreshing.

"Aye, be playing your cards right, lass, an' I have a feeling ye'll go far. Can't be installing ye in a position o' power straight off until ye be proving y'self in action, but an able seabeast we can oblige for the time being. We'd be glad ter have ye aboard."

The fox dipped the quill and offered it as he slid the roster across.

@Calara Driftsong​

 

[Korya]

Somehow, Korya had found herself at the front of the line of the second batch of hopefuls. Was it because she had been handing out little pieces of sweet bread? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it was because she had almost walked right off the pier and somebeast had grabbed the scruff of her neck and pushed her into the line. Such details were inconsequential.

Well, if she wasn't allowed to go for a swim here, she might as well see what all this was about. In the figurative sense. She was out of sweet bread, anyway, and all she had on her now was the lunch she had packed herself. The thin Smelt papers wrapping around the square bowl inside barely kept the scent of spice, shrimp, and seaweed contained.

So it was that she found herself - once guided by Frogear up onto the deck with some others - just outside the Captain's door and no longer being observed by the acting bo'sun, who had moved down the line to stop some other bickering that was going on about the unfairness of sweet bread distribution. She sidled closer, and closer, and closer, until she was pressing her face against the wall to the left of the door. Slowly, she rubbed her cheek back and forth against the wood. Good wood, wrong angle. A little more this way, and... ahhh... that was the spot!

The spot happened to be the very door jam of Captain Jeshal's cabin. She didn't purr, but she did rub her cheek harder into it, up and down, back and forth, not paying much attention to the voices within or behind her.

 

[Calara Driftsong]

"Able seabeast it is then, Cap'n, and it'll be my honor," Calara said. Her paw felt large, even clumsy as she took the proffered quill, but she signed her name well enough to the roster. Once her name graced the list in its simple, blocky letters the otter pushed both back across the table to the vulpine.

He seemed a wily beast. It wasn't something specific she could spell out to herself, more a warning whisper in the back of her head of the sort she had learned many years before to mark, or to ignore at her own peril. No matter. She had served under clever, amoral beasts before. She would certainly do so again. Just so long as he wasn't the sort to betray his own crew.

"Is there a beast I should be reporting to, Cap'n?"

 

[HuckleTheCartoonist]

Huckle, Oh Huckle that Unsespecting Badger with the heart of Pure Gold. It was finally a time of day where he could actually spend time with Himself and his Thoughts, finding himself waiting in a line with a bunch of other beasts. He leans over around the line as he walks, adjusting his Short-Rimmed sombrero and waddling up with the near Hoard of Beasts jossling their way to the Ship-Floor. He took off his hat and let his Curled, Fluffy hair droop down the sides of his face alongside his neck, resting short by his shoulders while his ears pinned back to his head.

" Oh dear ..." He whispered to himself, beginning to walk forward as the line continusly " What did I get myself into? W-Who's gonna look after my Strawberries and Crops while I'm gone?.... Will, anyone know I've left?"

He made his head spin with his own questions, and for long enough the he didn't know that he was alread on the Ship's floor, walking around in circles like a Mad Man; Trapped in his own thoughts as he let people watch beyond his knowledge.