Jeshal the Ironclaw
Captain of the BlackShip
Staff member
Officer: Captain (Commander)
Fortuna Survivor
- Character Biography
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(Nope it's not Vulpine Galaxies. A strange weasel shows up with even stranger delusions and the crew of the Golden Hide have to deal with him. Starring Zeke (Emperor Zheep) Steep, Char, Tomias Redford, Jeshal the Ironclaw, and Stripesail Darkhedge)
NOW THIS IS A SPACE SHIP
First post Merry 14, Yr. 1730
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Weasels are odd creatures. Quite possibly the smallest carnivore on the planet, they are designed to enter very small tunnels and eat whatever is inside them. If a weasel's head can fit in a hole, so can the rest of it, with the exception of perhaps pregnant females. But then, female weasels are considerably smaller than male weasels so that, when they are pregnant, they can fit through any hole a male weasel can. And when they aren't, they can fit into many holes male weasels can't. But seeing as males don't have to stick around to help out with the litter, or deal with the energy cost involved in growing six to twelve mini-weasels inside themselves, that's only fair.
When a weasel catches prey, it starts at the neck, paralyzing the snack. If it isn't particularly hungry, it will eat the brain first, which is like a fistful of sour gummi worms to a weasel, a scrumptious dessert. If it is very hungry, a weasel will eat more. Weasels cannot digest vegetables and carbohydrates, their bodies aren't made for that. But they still need some to live, so what weasels do is wait until their prey has eaten, and then, in between the time when vegetable matter is digested and when it is absorbed into the snack, a weasel will yoink the digested carbohydrates right out by means of eating the intestines. This is pretty cool. What's a bit of a bummer is that weasels can only hold 1/100th of an ounce in their stomachs. They have to eat several times a day to survive their own metabolism. This is not as bad as a shrew or a hummingbird, but it is still pretty ridiculous for a carnivore.
Weasels are good swimmers, and good climbers, too. When climbing down a tree, a weasel can flip their hind paws around backwards to grip the trunk as if they were climbing up the usual way. Squirrels can do this, too. Pine martens have semi-retractable claws. When viewed in darkness with a light shone on them, a weasel's eyes do not reflect red like a cat's, but rather green. Weasels are monsters.
So now you know a bit about weasels.
Zheep is a weasel.
Char is a rat.
... I don't actually know much about rats, except they lack the reflexes to throw up, which is why rat poison works, and presumably why the term "bilge rats" is so popular and not, say, "bilge ferrets". Rats probably don't deal well with alcohol.
Char doesn't deal well with alcohol.
But that's okay, because Char isn't drunk. Neither is Zheep. This is just how they normally behave.
~ ~ ~
Char clutched the papers in his paws. He wouldn't let Zheep near them. They were important papers, that told important beasts that Zheep was more important than them — at least, in a perfect world, this is what the papers would say. What the papers actually said was that he and Zheep were a Crewmember: Decoys. Char had explained to Zheep that Decoy was a kind of important hat that admirals wore. Zheep said this would be an okay rank — not great, as befitting the Emperor of the Galaxy, but okay — so long as nobeast thought to use him as a countermeasure in case the space ship got targeted by heat-seeking missiles. Char nodded as if he understood. He never did, though. But you had to nod around Zheep, or else Zheep would try to explain.
Zheep didn't clutch anything in his paws. He had them clasped behind his back, and he frowned imperiously at the Golden Hide.
"I don't see how this is going to break orbit," he declared. Char remained silent (but nodded.) "It isn't very aerodynamic. We shall need to cut down those big sticks in the middle and do away with all these blankets hanging up to dry. Can't have those out during warp speed —they'd fall off."
"Of course," Char said, nodding.
"I do approve of the colouration, though. I hope those panels can reflect infrared. It is a very large ship; it will be hard not to appear on scanners. And we must not appear on scanners."
"Of course," Char said, nodding.
Zheep twitched his nose.
"Well, Zer-Char... this is it. The big one. This is the space ship that will return us to our solar system. And it's all due to you — your dedication, your hard work... When we return to Planet Floret, you will be well compensated. Your Emperor thanks you."
"Of course," Char said, nodding.
Zheep turned around and beamed. "Woohoo!" he said, grabbing Char's paw and hauling him along the docks toward the majestic black ship. "We're gonna get home an' eat cake again, with candied chestnuts an' an' an' maple syrup!"
"Woohoo," Char said, nodding. He waved the important papers around in the air as they boarded the gangplank.
Tomias Redford
Tomias had been having a relatively interesting morning. He had been experimenting in the galley again, and he had come up with something pretty good. Who knew that if you took a sausage, then put it into bread, and rolled it up, it could make such an appetizing snack. So he stood out on deck, with a plate of three of the aforementioned sausage bread roll delights. What should he name them, he noticed that the bread kept the sausage inside hot, hot sausage? Nah, that was just lame, he kept rifling through names until one finally sounded good, Hot Dog... so that’s the one he kept. So here he was, standing out on deck with a plate bearing three hot-dogs, well technically two, as his mouth bore most of the third one.
He noticed, well rather heard the triumphant shouts of somebeast coming towards the ship. Tomias walked over to the gangplank as a rather happy looking weasel and rat boarded the ship. His gaze drifted to the papers, of course new recruits, there were always more new recruits.
"Welcome to the Golden Hide good sir, I'm guessing you’re new recruits to our crew, judging by the papers you got. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Tomias Redford, Aide De Camp of the Hide, and you are?"
He held out his right paw for the papers (as his left one still held the plate of hot dogs).
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
"I," the weasel proclaimed, standing tall as he could and puffing his bare chest out proudly, "am Emperor Zheep, Ruler of the Galactic–"
"Wot he means," Char butt in, filling the fox's outstretched paw with their papers, "is we're–"
"–dangerous space renegades," Zheep said, scowling at the rat. "So you don't want to mess with us, oh no." He waggled a claw at the fox. "Play with solar flares and you get burned!"
"I got burned, once," Char said sadly. "It wasn't fun."
"Told you not to sleep inside my engines."
"It was a barrel, Zheep, that you set on fire when you found me in!"
"It was a Grr'uktrivigar Deluxe Turbine Three-Speed Powershaft Engine and you slept in it."
"Maybe you should've told me it was a Gurdysack Deluxe Turbo Three-Speed Powerbash Engine before I thought it would be a good place to hide! We were doing hide-an'-go-seek, not Space Aliens From Juniper!"
"No," Zheep said, shaking his head as if scolding a kit, "we were playing hide-and-go-seek-the-Space-Aliens-From-Juniper! And we couldn't go into hyperdrive 'cos you ate the fuel line!"
"It was a noodle!"
"That's just what they wanted you to think! The Grr'uktrivigar have very good cloaking devices."
"Zheep," Char sighed.
"–which is why my cape is of Grr'uktrivigar origin! Imagine if these poor saps could see my true form, they would shudder! Shudder, I tell you, Zer-Char, shudder in my presence."
"Zheeeeep."
"And I think, scoundrel, you have long since proven your incompetence in alien affairs, so it is best to let me deal with the Gold Hideens from now on, lest you start an interstellar war between our species! No more words from you!"
"But Zheep–"
"Shh!"
"But–"
"Silence, Zer-Char!"
"B–"
Zheep reached over and slapped the rat. Then he turned back to Tomias and gave a winning smile — a winning smile that drooped into a frown when he saw what Char had been pointing at.
There was quite a pawful of crewbeasts who had gathered around to watch, drawn out by their shouting match.
"Oh," the weasel said. "Hallo."
Jeshal the Ironclaw
One of the attracted audience members, as his bad luck would have it, was the Hide's captain. Disturbed by raised voices, general deck commotion, and the sound of Redford's chatter? Had to be another recruit. Still slightly bed-tousled, Jeshal had stepped out of his cabin, mug of spiced dandelion and burdock in his fur paw, and watched the theatrics with some bewilderment.
"Ah. Tendencies toward lunacy, unlikely ter be 'andlin' theirselves in a fight, think they be Asmodeus reborn... they'll be mine then. Ship must be the bleedin' joke o' the registry office," the Ironclaw muttered. He took a swig of his drink and sauntered slowly toward the squabbling pair. Eventually the silence from his gathering crew drew the weasel's attention.
"Oh. Hallo."
Jeshal half grinned at them, resisting the urge to ask why the weasel was wearing a helmet. "'Tis me presumption ye be offerin' y'selves ter serve aboard me crew? Any other matter may not be worth the while o' causin' me ter miss me mornin' vittles."
The copper fox sniffed the air suddenly and turned to look at the plate in Tomias's paw.
"Wharr'in 'Gates 'ave ye got there, Redford? Not denyin' the pleasantry o' the smell, but they be lookin' like roast rat tails. Ye want these fine beasties ter think we be eatin' the crew?"
Jeshal turned to look at Char and flashed a wicked grin.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Char, his nose looking a little red from his slap, blanched, glancing between Tomias's plate and Jeshal's grin. Roast rat tails? He wondered if they were as tasty as Old Crinktail's volehog stew.
"What," Zheep said.
Char put a comforting paw on Zheep's shoulder.
"Tain't worth it, Zheep, let it go..."
"What," Zheep said again, taking a step towards the fox (such an impudent fox!)
"Zheep, I think he's the captain!"
Bottom lip quivering, Zheep stretched himself to his full height – somewhere just below Jeshal's chin.
"No," the weasel said, baring his teeth. "No, I will not stand for this. I am the Emperor of the galaxy, not this trussed-up space gypsy. How dare you presume I am here to serve your crew. From the moment I stepped paw on this celestial vessel, it was mine. You, all of you," he spun around, pointing an accusing claw at everyone gathered, "exist solely to serve me, Emperor Zheep!"
He slammed the visor of his helmet down and seethed.
Char looked about to wet himself.
Tomias Redford
((Tomias's attempt is to get Zheep away from Jeshal before he gets his little weaselly butt kicked, Tomias doesn’t really support his idea of taking over the ship.))
Tomias rolled his eyes as the young weasel shouted out a spiel of gibberish, which led to a lot of the crew coming to have a look. Of course one of the crew just had to be Jeshal. Well, he couldn't have his own way all the time it seemed. He gave a slightly sarcastic laugh when Jeshal mentioned his Hot-Dogs as Roast Rat Tails. These were at least ten times better than rat tails anyway. However what the weasel-prince did next made Tomias severely doubt in his sanity. He actually stood up to Jeshal. If it wasn't such a stupid idea, Tomias would have commented on his bravery. Of course, it's surprising how often the lines between bravery and stupidity get blurred. It seemed that the young weasel thought he was in a Sci-Fi novel or something of the sort. He broke off a bit of the hot dog and pinged it off of Zheep's helmet.
"Okay, I really don't think that’s a good idea lil dude. You do not wanna mess with Jeshal, he will make it really bad for you. But I like you, you’re funny, so perhaps we should go below, keep out of Jeshal's way right now, and then..."
He gave a quick wink to Jeshal, in a "play along with it for now" way.
"...Then we can plot how to take over the ship. Since I like your little idea."
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
"I don't need to plot anything!" Zheep snarled, fighting the impulse to kick Tomias in the shins. "I own it already! You sorry saps just have to deal with that fact! Yikyikyik, why does everybeast have to be such a pain in the tail?"
Char squeaked as loud as a wet leaf crackling: "Zheep, you're supposed to be undercover!"
At least, the rat thought miserably, he thought that was the plan. Zheep didn't do plans. Zheep did whims. And Zheep's whims were mighty.
Zheep's current whim was to ignore Char.
"And don't throw your roast rat tail doughrolls at me!" he continued, holding up his paws with his claws outstretched at Tomias, dancing from footpaw to footpaw. "I'll throw a comet at you! K-chk!"
Jeshal the Ironclaw
It took a considerable amount of Jeshal's energy not to snort out an unprofessional laugh. As the weasel, who looked like he was about to go on a very short diving expedition, gnashed his teeth and spouted under his muzzle, the Ironclaw stared with an incredulous, yet bored expression. What was more surprising was Redford’s behaviour, a slight bit more cooperative than usual. Of course there was the matter of referring to his captain without title, the blasé manner of speech… and even joking about mutiny wasn’t doing him any favours. At this point, however, Jeshal was far more interested in the reaction of ‘Emperor’ Zheep.
Growling and scowling, the little creature bawled out his tantrum to everyone listening. Claws were raised and he hopped about in a strange gait, threatening astronomical consequences.
With a delicate slide of his sandalled footpaws, Jeshal moved into the blind spot of Zheep’s flank. “I ‘umbly beg yer pardon, yer Grace…” he said, and brought up his iron fist. The fox slammed his gauntlet into the side of the weasel’s helmet, causing a deafening CLANG to reverberate within. The Ironclaw slurped the last of his dandelion and burdock before casually stepping around to face Zheep. He peered into the visor, cruel eyes calculating.
“Hmm. Fer a beast claimin’ ter be the master o’ the galaxy, yer eyes ain’t seen enough stars, says I.”
Jeshal brought the empty tankard down upon the ‘Emperor’’s visor and followed the action with several swipes across the grille, each one painfully loud to the wearer.
“This be my ship, I think ye be findin’, most ‘igh mustelid. If ye want ter be aboard, even Emperors ‘ave ter be pullin’ their weight. If you an’ yer subject wish ter stay an’ accept me terms, per’aps I’ll be waivin’ the fact ye be speakin’ treason against the land ye jus’ disembarked from. What do ye say?”
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Zheep said: "Grakakgubble."
Char said: "That sounds fine, Cap'n sir, honest it does we'll be good!" The rat appeared to be shrinking inside his clothes, as if doing an impression of a hermit crab slinking back into its shell.
Zheep toddled about, clutching his helmet and moaning, staggering side to side, until at last he fell over and lolled with his tail tucked between his legs.
"What was thaaaaat," he whined, "what was thaaaat? A sonic discombobulator! Chaaaar, he broke my force shield! Help, help, make the noise stoooop!"
Char twitched towards Zheep, but held himself back. He gulped and saluted Jeshal.
"He don't mean nothin' by it, Mr. Scary Fox, sir! He's just, ummm..." Char didn't know what Zheep was. He'd grown up with the weasel's antics; Zheep was, sometimes, in a world that gradually made less and less sense, the only thing that stayed the same. You could build houses on Zheep's insanity, so secure it was. "I'll sort him out, sir."
Kneeling by the weasel, Char poked him in the fuzzy white stomach and lifted the visor.
"Zheep, the Cap'n says he's gonna scramble your brain wid his laser paw if you don't stay under cover. He says he's gonna help us, but you gotta pretend you're Zeke Steep or else the giant eight-legged hypnospiders from Fungus are gonna break the ship an' drown us in th' starsea, so please please please..."
Zheep blinked. "I understand," he said solemnly. He sat up. "My name..." The world held its breath. "Is Zeke Steep. I am a..." The world's heart stopped. "Crewmember: Decoy."
The world cheered. It was watching football. The world couldn't have cared less about Zheep. The world headbutted its friends and they all quaffed their tankards and roared and then sat down because the half time show was on now.
Tomias Redford
Tomias watched the scene, growing more and more irritated by the weasel's actions. First he had a severe god complex, and secondly it was as if he wasn't even in the same world as everybeast else. Wow, Dr Pom would have a field day with this one... He inwardly smirked as Jeshal showed him who the real boss around here was. It was strange, since he first met Jeshal, Tomias had disliked him. Yet now, he seemed to have grown quite respectful of the older vulpine, how the times had changed. Since he had first joined the Golden Hide, Tomias had seen four different captains rule the ship, each with their differing methods. He gave a slight sigh as he watched the weasel, weasel his way back into the limelight again.
He visibly facepawed, then turned and headed back belowdecks without a word. Times definitely had changed, if they were letting beasts like that into the Navy. Tomi settled back down in his bunk, munching one of the hot dogs, and reading a book. The remainder of his bunk was bare, albeit for a large suitcase, in the middle of the floor...
Stripesail Darkhedge
Just returning from sneaking into the captain’s room and hiding a dead trout under the sheets of the captain's bed, Stripe stuck his nose warily out and peered out to see if anyone was watching. By some strange stroke of luck, he happened to be coming out right when every other beast was busy watching Zeke and Char.
Giggling quietly to himself, he opened the door and cautiously walked towards the crowd and climbed up onto another crewbeast's shoulders to watch the happenings.
As the captain gave Zeke something to think about, Stripe eyed Char with hidden glee. It looked like he had found a new beast to irritate, and by the look of them, he wouldn't have been surprized if the new beast just fainted over the rail.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
At least the rat appeared to have some matter between the ears. After a few mumbled words delivered through the visor, Zheep got to his feet and reintroduced himself.
"Welcome aboard, Master Steep," Jeshal replied and gave an acknowledging nod. "An' yer associate..." He looked to take the papers from Redford, but curiously the young todd had departed. The forms lay in a neat bundle upon the deck, which the captain took up and began to sift through. "Ah, Master... Char. Since me Aide be presently occupied an' none o' me officers plainly sighted, 'tis left ter me ter show ye around it seems. If ye be new ter the Imperium, one thing ter be bearin' in mind be a current embargo on the consumption o' cakes. So fer yer security an' general welfare, don' be sighted scoffin' it. Off we go then, if ye be ready."
Jeshal turned to make for the stairs below and stopped beside the beast whom had been unlucky enough to gain a Stripesail-shaped appendage.
"Master Dark'edge, fer the sake o' the nose'airs o' the delicate citizens o' Bully, wash yer paws afore a broody fishwife swipes ye fer adoption. Secon' thoughts, as ye were."
At the back of his mind, the captain remained wary of Redford's behaviour. As yet he did not know that tomorrow he would hold in his paw the young officer's transfer papers.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Zheep's eyes bugged out. An embargo on the consumption of cakes? That seemed very... very... exciting.
Standing up, the weasel saluted. This involved, among other things, one whirl-about, one kick at the deck that almost stubbed his toes, a tail-flutter as his whiskers splayed forward, and then both paws punching each-other in front of him, before being drawn to his chest with a solemn nod that sent his visor clanging shut once more. He lifted it up again.
"Well, if there's an embargo on the cakes' consumption, I think you're looking at the two beasts who might be able to do something about it," he said. He cleared his throat imperiously. "Just lead the way to this consumption, and me, Emp— Mister Steep and Zer-Char, we'll slay the embargo before any harm befalls your delicious and very, very moist snack cakes. Isn't that right, Zer-Char?" He blinked. "Or are you just Char? Are you undercover too?"
"Yeah," Char nodded. "I am. But I don't think that's wot an embar–"
"Once the embargo is slain, Mr. Captainfox, we will then rescue General Welfare. I hope to the seven planetary fates that he is safe... and has not been coerced to reveal any military secrets," the weasel added darkly. "The Embargos are known to be a dangerous species, capable of–"
Zheep stopped, staring. His stare was directed at Stripesail, and the unlucky creature that was the young weasel's steed.
Then he bowed.
"I see your Grr'uktrivigar cloaking device is in prime order, fellow weasel of small stature." He put a paw up to his muzzle and whispered to Char: "I sense the Force is strong in this one, Zer-Char. Come with us," he said, turning back to Stripesail and offering his paw. "And we shall rule the galaxy together."
Char poked Zheep in the ribs.
"I mean, 'and we shall attend Captainfox's presentation of his fine starliner.'"
Char poked him again.
"–his fine ship."
Char smiled, just a little.
Stripesail Darkhedge
Stripe glared menacingly at Jeshal after the fox captain made his comment.
"Me paws bes purfec'ly keen misser meanie capain foxy!" he said with what he thought to be a mean and tough sounding voice.
He was about to comment again when suddenly the new weasel started staring at him. Other beasts only usually did that when he had dressed up in something weird or was running from a pranked crewmember.
"I see your Grr'uktrivigar cloaking device is in prime order, fellow weasel of small stature."
The newbeasts finally spoke to him, and then whispered something to his rat companion before continuing. "Come with us, And we shall rule the galaxy together...I mean, 'and we shall attend Captainfox's presentation of his fine starliner...–his fine ship."
Stripe gazed in awed silence at the newbeast. This one didn't look like he would faint after being pranked, but the other weasel lived in his own little world. Stripe always loved to prank beasts like that. He could make different pranks with those types of beasts.
Trying to look menacing again as he turned back to the captain he stuck out his tongue at the fox and climbed off the crewmember he'd been hanging on to. Remembering the fish he had left on the captain’s bed, Stripe said.
"An no fesh whaf be adapten Sripesal Dak'edgg, fearsest pie'rat an thee hi seas, bat an fesh whaf mite lak yo capain!"
And with that said he suddenly darted towards Char and climbed up onto his shoulders and turned to Zheep.
"An wee sail wrool Capainfoxy's pressytaton galac'see shep toge'her? Whit's that seppos'd te mean silly beasie?"
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Char grimaced as he was mountaineered. As Zheep's go-to-rat for alien infestations, it was always his job to wear the tube sock on his head, or stick his paws into the dark crab holes on the beach, or otherwise be the one who was in most desperate need of saving. The role called for nerves of steel and a good pair of lungs. The rat was using both — the nerves not to panic and throw the little weasel off, and the lungs to hold his breath so he wouldn't have to smell it.
Zheep burbled excitedly.
"Did you hear that, Char, did you hear that? What a strange foreign tongue — he must have learned to speak by monitoring transmissions!" Zheep grinned hugely. This was so exciting! He'd tried to monitor transmissions, once, but the lizard had skulked off after threatening to eat him.*
"Aye," Char sighed. "I heard it, Mr. Steep. Grr, little nuisance," the rat grumbled under his breath. "Strong in the force—if the force is diggin' claws into my neck, sure!"
* He'd actually bitten Zheep's footpaw as a warning, but the resulting musk bomb had sent the poor monitor away crying a few seconds later.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
What I wouldn' give to show ye a real pirate... Jeshal's eyes narrowed ponderously upon the little weasel who was doing his best to be imposing.
"I be thinkin' I be a rather decen' fellow, Master Dark'edge. Woe betide ye see the day I choose ter be a 'meanie', as ye put it. More woe ter those what push me wrath further. Now shut yer gob an' 'elp our new pal Mr Steep learn 'is way about or I'll lock ye in the bilge with only ol' crazy Griss ter talk to."
Jeshal tried not to shudder at the thought of the addle-brained creature sploshing around down there. He had never thought to take action since the time Griss had trapped him and Tanya in a crate. After all, she had been the captain then and he not even first mate. He wondered if Griss was anything like Layla, a fearsome intelligence hidden beneath madness. It didn't bear thinking about. There was a lot of that going around.
"So then, Steep an' Char, off we go then. First ter yer fine palace where ye'll be puttin' nose ter pillow. When it's a good day..."
The fox captain gestured theatrically to the stairs below and led the way.
NOW THIS IS A SPACE SHIP
First post Merry 14, Yr. 1730
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Weasels are odd creatures. Quite possibly the smallest carnivore on the planet, they are designed to enter very small tunnels and eat whatever is inside them. If a weasel's head can fit in a hole, so can the rest of it, with the exception of perhaps pregnant females. But then, female weasels are considerably smaller than male weasels so that, when they are pregnant, they can fit through any hole a male weasel can. And when they aren't, they can fit into many holes male weasels can't. But seeing as males don't have to stick around to help out with the litter, or deal with the energy cost involved in growing six to twelve mini-weasels inside themselves, that's only fair.
When a weasel catches prey, it starts at the neck, paralyzing the snack. If it isn't particularly hungry, it will eat the brain first, which is like a fistful of sour gummi worms to a weasel, a scrumptious dessert. If it is very hungry, a weasel will eat more. Weasels cannot digest vegetables and carbohydrates, their bodies aren't made for that. But they still need some to live, so what weasels do is wait until their prey has eaten, and then, in between the time when vegetable matter is digested and when it is absorbed into the snack, a weasel will yoink the digested carbohydrates right out by means of eating the intestines. This is pretty cool. What's a bit of a bummer is that weasels can only hold 1/100th of an ounce in their stomachs. They have to eat several times a day to survive their own metabolism. This is not as bad as a shrew or a hummingbird, but it is still pretty ridiculous for a carnivore.
Weasels are good swimmers, and good climbers, too. When climbing down a tree, a weasel can flip their hind paws around backwards to grip the trunk as if they were climbing up the usual way. Squirrels can do this, too. Pine martens have semi-retractable claws. When viewed in darkness with a light shone on them, a weasel's eyes do not reflect red like a cat's, but rather green. Weasels are monsters.
So now you know a bit about weasels.
Zheep is a weasel.
Char is a rat.
... I don't actually know much about rats, except they lack the reflexes to throw up, which is why rat poison works, and presumably why the term "bilge rats" is so popular and not, say, "bilge ferrets". Rats probably don't deal well with alcohol.
Char doesn't deal well with alcohol.
But that's okay, because Char isn't drunk. Neither is Zheep. This is just how they normally behave.
~ ~ ~
Char clutched the papers in his paws. He wouldn't let Zheep near them. They were important papers, that told important beasts that Zheep was more important than them — at least, in a perfect world, this is what the papers would say. What the papers actually said was that he and Zheep were a Crewmember: Decoys. Char had explained to Zheep that Decoy was a kind of important hat that admirals wore. Zheep said this would be an okay rank — not great, as befitting the Emperor of the Galaxy, but okay — so long as nobeast thought to use him as a countermeasure in case the space ship got targeted by heat-seeking missiles. Char nodded as if he understood. He never did, though. But you had to nod around Zheep, or else Zheep would try to explain.
Zheep didn't clutch anything in his paws. He had them clasped behind his back, and he frowned imperiously at the Golden Hide.
"I don't see how this is going to break orbit," he declared. Char remained silent (but nodded.) "It isn't very aerodynamic. We shall need to cut down those big sticks in the middle and do away with all these blankets hanging up to dry. Can't have those out during warp speed —they'd fall off."
"Of course," Char said, nodding.
"I do approve of the colouration, though. I hope those panels can reflect infrared. It is a very large ship; it will be hard not to appear on scanners. And we must not appear on scanners."
"Of course," Char said, nodding.
Zheep twitched his nose.
"Well, Zer-Char... this is it. The big one. This is the space ship that will return us to our solar system. And it's all due to you — your dedication, your hard work... When we return to Planet Floret, you will be well compensated. Your Emperor thanks you."
"Of course," Char said, nodding.
Zheep turned around and beamed. "Woohoo!" he said, grabbing Char's paw and hauling him along the docks toward the majestic black ship. "We're gonna get home an' eat cake again, with candied chestnuts an' an' an' maple syrup!"
"Woohoo," Char said, nodding. He waved the important papers around in the air as they boarded the gangplank.
Tomias Redford
Tomias had been having a relatively interesting morning. He had been experimenting in the galley again, and he had come up with something pretty good. Who knew that if you took a sausage, then put it into bread, and rolled it up, it could make such an appetizing snack. So he stood out on deck, with a plate of three of the aforementioned sausage bread roll delights. What should he name them, he noticed that the bread kept the sausage inside hot, hot sausage? Nah, that was just lame, he kept rifling through names until one finally sounded good, Hot Dog... so that’s the one he kept. So here he was, standing out on deck with a plate bearing three hot-dogs, well technically two, as his mouth bore most of the third one.
He noticed, well rather heard the triumphant shouts of somebeast coming towards the ship. Tomias walked over to the gangplank as a rather happy looking weasel and rat boarded the ship. His gaze drifted to the papers, of course new recruits, there were always more new recruits.
"Welcome to the Golden Hide good sir, I'm guessing you’re new recruits to our crew, judging by the papers you got. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Tomias Redford, Aide De Camp of the Hide, and you are?"
He held out his right paw for the papers (as his left one still held the plate of hot dogs).
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
"I," the weasel proclaimed, standing tall as he could and puffing his bare chest out proudly, "am Emperor Zheep, Ruler of the Galactic–"
"Wot he means," Char butt in, filling the fox's outstretched paw with their papers, "is we're–"
"–dangerous space renegades," Zheep said, scowling at the rat. "So you don't want to mess with us, oh no." He waggled a claw at the fox. "Play with solar flares and you get burned!"
"I got burned, once," Char said sadly. "It wasn't fun."
"Told you not to sleep inside my engines."
"It was a barrel, Zheep, that you set on fire when you found me in!"
"It was a Grr'uktrivigar Deluxe Turbine Three-Speed Powershaft Engine and you slept in it."
"Maybe you should've told me it was a Gurdysack Deluxe Turbo Three-Speed Powerbash Engine before I thought it would be a good place to hide! We were doing hide-an'-go-seek, not Space Aliens From Juniper!"
"No," Zheep said, shaking his head as if scolding a kit, "we were playing hide-and-go-seek-the-Space-Aliens-From-Juniper! And we couldn't go into hyperdrive 'cos you ate the fuel line!"
"It was a noodle!"
"That's just what they wanted you to think! The Grr'uktrivigar have very good cloaking devices."
"Zheep," Char sighed.
"–which is why my cape is of Grr'uktrivigar origin! Imagine if these poor saps could see my true form, they would shudder! Shudder, I tell you, Zer-Char, shudder in my presence."
"Zheeeeep."
"And I think, scoundrel, you have long since proven your incompetence in alien affairs, so it is best to let me deal with the Gold Hideens from now on, lest you start an interstellar war between our species! No more words from you!"
"But Zheep–"
"Shh!"
"But–"
"Silence, Zer-Char!"
"B–"
Zheep reached over and slapped the rat. Then he turned back to Tomias and gave a winning smile — a winning smile that drooped into a frown when he saw what Char had been pointing at.
There was quite a pawful of crewbeasts who had gathered around to watch, drawn out by their shouting match.
"Oh," the weasel said. "Hallo."
Jeshal the Ironclaw
One of the attracted audience members, as his bad luck would have it, was the Hide's captain. Disturbed by raised voices, general deck commotion, and the sound of Redford's chatter? Had to be another recruit. Still slightly bed-tousled, Jeshal had stepped out of his cabin, mug of spiced dandelion and burdock in his fur paw, and watched the theatrics with some bewilderment.
"Ah. Tendencies toward lunacy, unlikely ter be 'andlin' theirselves in a fight, think they be Asmodeus reborn... they'll be mine then. Ship must be the bleedin' joke o' the registry office," the Ironclaw muttered. He took a swig of his drink and sauntered slowly toward the squabbling pair. Eventually the silence from his gathering crew drew the weasel's attention.
"Oh. Hallo."
Jeshal half grinned at them, resisting the urge to ask why the weasel was wearing a helmet. "'Tis me presumption ye be offerin' y'selves ter serve aboard me crew? Any other matter may not be worth the while o' causin' me ter miss me mornin' vittles."
The copper fox sniffed the air suddenly and turned to look at the plate in Tomias's paw.
"Wharr'in 'Gates 'ave ye got there, Redford? Not denyin' the pleasantry o' the smell, but they be lookin' like roast rat tails. Ye want these fine beasties ter think we be eatin' the crew?"
Jeshal turned to look at Char and flashed a wicked grin.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Char, his nose looking a little red from his slap, blanched, glancing between Tomias's plate and Jeshal's grin. Roast rat tails? He wondered if they were as tasty as Old Crinktail's volehog stew.
"What," Zheep said.
Char put a comforting paw on Zheep's shoulder.
"Tain't worth it, Zheep, let it go..."
"What," Zheep said again, taking a step towards the fox (such an impudent fox!)
"Zheep, I think he's the captain!"
Bottom lip quivering, Zheep stretched himself to his full height – somewhere just below Jeshal's chin.
"No," the weasel said, baring his teeth. "No, I will not stand for this. I am the Emperor of the galaxy, not this trussed-up space gypsy. How dare you presume I am here to serve your crew. From the moment I stepped paw on this celestial vessel, it was mine. You, all of you," he spun around, pointing an accusing claw at everyone gathered, "exist solely to serve me, Emperor Zheep!"
He slammed the visor of his helmet down and seethed.
Char looked about to wet himself.
Tomias Redford
((Tomias's attempt is to get Zheep away from Jeshal before he gets his little weaselly butt kicked, Tomias doesn’t really support his idea of taking over the ship.))
Tomias rolled his eyes as the young weasel shouted out a spiel of gibberish, which led to a lot of the crew coming to have a look. Of course one of the crew just had to be Jeshal. Well, he couldn't have his own way all the time it seemed. He gave a slightly sarcastic laugh when Jeshal mentioned his Hot-Dogs as Roast Rat Tails. These were at least ten times better than rat tails anyway. However what the weasel-prince did next made Tomias severely doubt in his sanity. He actually stood up to Jeshal. If it wasn't such a stupid idea, Tomias would have commented on his bravery. Of course, it's surprising how often the lines between bravery and stupidity get blurred. It seemed that the young weasel thought he was in a Sci-Fi novel or something of the sort. He broke off a bit of the hot dog and pinged it off of Zheep's helmet.
"Okay, I really don't think that’s a good idea lil dude. You do not wanna mess with Jeshal, he will make it really bad for you. But I like you, you’re funny, so perhaps we should go below, keep out of Jeshal's way right now, and then..."
He gave a quick wink to Jeshal, in a "play along with it for now" way.
"...Then we can plot how to take over the ship. Since I like your little idea."
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
"I don't need to plot anything!" Zheep snarled, fighting the impulse to kick Tomias in the shins. "I own it already! You sorry saps just have to deal with that fact! Yikyikyik, why does everybeast have to be such a pain in the tail?"
Char squeaked as loud as a wet leaf crackling: "Zheep, you're supposed to be undercover!"
At least, the rat thought miserably, he thought that was the plan. Zheep didn't do plans. Zheep did whims. And Zheep's whims were mighty.
Zheep's current whim was to ignore Char.
"And don't throw your roast rat tail doughrolls at me!" he continued, holding up his paws with his claws outstretched at Tomias, dancing from footpaw to footpaw. "I'll throw a comet at you! K-chk!"
Jeshal the Ironclaw
It took a considerable amount of Jeshal's energy not to snort out an unprofessional laugh. As the weasel, who looked like he was about to go on a very short diving expedition, gnashed his teeth and spouted under his muzzle, the Ironclaw stared with an incredulous, yet bored expression. What was more surprising was Redford’s behaviour, a slight bit more cooperative than usual. Of course there was the matter of referring to his captain without title, the blasé manner of speech… and even joking about mutiny wasn’t doing him any favours. At this point, however, Jeshal was far more interested in the reaction of ‘Emperor’ Zheep.
Growling and scowling, the little creature bawled out his tantrum to everyone listening. Claws were raised and he hopped about in a strange gait, threatening astronomical consequences.
With a delicate slide of his sandalled footpaws, Jeshal moved into the blind spot of Zheep’s flank. “I ‘umbly beg yer pardon, yer Grace…” he said, and brought up his iron fist. The fox slammed his gauntlet into the side of the weasel’s helmet, causing a deafening CLANG to reverberate within. The Ironclaw slurped the last of his dandelion and burdock before casually stepping around to face Zheep. He peered into the visor, cruel eyes calculating.
“Hmm. Fer a beast claimin’ ter be the master o’ the galaxy, yer eyes ain’t seen enough stars, says I.”
Jeshal brought the empty tankard down upon the ‘Emperor’’s visor and followed the action with several swipes across the grille, each one painfully loud to the wearer.
“This be my ship, I think ye be findin’, most ‘igh mustelid. If ye want ter be aboard, even Emperors ‘ave ter be pullin’ their weight. If you an’ yer subject wish ter stay an’ accept me terms, per’aps I’ll be waivin’ the fact ye be speakin’ treason against the land ye jus’ disembarked from. What do ye say?”
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Zheep said: "Grakakgubble."
Char said: "That sounds fine, Cap'n sir, honest it does we'll be good!" The rat appeared to be shrinking inside his clothes, as if doing an impression of a hermit crab slinking back into its shell.
Zheep toddled about, clutching his helmet and moaning, staggering side to side, until at last he fell over and lolled with his tail tucked between his legs.
"What was thaaaaat," he whined, "what was thaaaat? A sonic discombobulator! Chaaaar, he broke my force shield! Help, help, make the noise stoooop!"
Char twitched towards Zheep, but held himself back. He gulped and saluted Jeshal.
"He don't mean nothin' by it, Mr. Scary Fox, sir! He's just, ummm..." Char didn't know what Zheep was. He'd grown up with the weasel's antics; Zheep was, sometimes, in a world that gradually made less and less sense, the only thing that stayed the same. You could build houses on Zheep's insanity, so secure it was. "I'll sort him out, sir."
Kneeling by the weasel, Char poked him in the fuzzy white stomach and lifted the visor.
"Zheep, the Cap'n says he's gonna scramble your brain wid his laser paw if you don't stay under cover. He says he's gonna help us, but you gotta pretend you're Zeke Steep or else the giant eight-legged hypnospiders from Fungus are gonna break the ship an' drown us in th' starsea, so please please please..."
Zheep blinked. "I understand," he said solemnly. He sat up. "My name..." The world held its breath. "Is Zeke Steep. I am a..." The world's heart stopped. "Crewmember: Decoy."
The world cheered. It was watching football. The world couldn't have cared less about Zheep. The world headbutted its friends and they all quaffed their tankards and roared and then sat down because the half time show was on now.
Tomias Redford
Tomias watched the scene, growing more and more irritated by the weasel's actions. First he had a severe god complex, and secondly it was as if he wasn't even in the same world as everybeast else. Wow, Dr Pom would have a field day with this one... He inwardly smirked as Jeshal showed him who the real boss around here was. It was strange, since he first met Jeshal, Tomias had disliked him. Yet now, he seemed to have grown quite respectful of the older vulpine, how the times had changed. Since he had first joined the Golden Hide, Tomias had seen four different captains rule the ship, each with their differing methods. He gave a slight sigh as he watched the weasel, weasel his way back into the limelight again.
He visibly facepawed, then turned and headed back belowdecks without a word. Times definitely had changed, if they were letting beasts like that into the Navy. Tomi settled back down in his bunk, munching one of the hot dogs, and reading a book. The remainder of his bunk was bare, albeit for a large suitcase, in the middle of the floor...
Stripesail Darkhedge
Just returning from sneaking into the captain’s room and hiding a dead trout under the sheets of the captain's bed, Stripe stuck his nose warily out and peered out to see if anyone was watching. By some strange stroke of luck, he happened to be coming out right when every other beast was busy watching Zeke and Char.
Giggling quietly to himself, he opened the door and cautiously walked towards the crowd and climbed up onto another crewbeast's shoulders to watch the happenings.
As the captain gave Zeke something to think about, Stripe eyed Char with hidden glee. It looked like he had found a new beast to irritate, and by the look of them, he wouldn't have been surprized if the new beast just fainted over the rail.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
At least the rat appeared to have some matter between the ears. After a few mumbled words delivered through the visor, Zheep got to his feet and reintroduced himself.
"Welcome aboard, Master Steep," Jeshal replied and gave an acknowledging nod. "An' yer associate..." He looked to take the papers from Redford, but curiously the young todd had departed. The forms lay in a neat bundle upon the deck, which the captain took up and began to sift through. "Ah, Master... Char. Since me Aide be presently occupied an' none o' me officers plainly sighted, 'tis left ter me ter show ye around it seems. If ye be new ter the Imperium, one thing ter be bearin' in mind be a current embargo on the consumption o' cakes. So fer yer security an' general welfare, don' be sighted scoffin' it. Off we go then, if ye be ready."
Jeshal turned to make for the stairs below and stopped beside the beast whom had been unlucky enough to gain a Stripesail-shaped appendage.
"Master Dark'edge, fer the sake o' the nose'airs o' the delicate citizens o' Bully, wash yer paws afore a broody fishwife swipes ye fer adoption. Secon' thoughts, as ye were."
At the back of his mind, the captain remained wary of Redford's behaviour. As yet he did not know that tomorrow he would hold in his paw the young officer's transfer papers.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Zheep's eyes bugged out. An embargo on the consumption of cakes? That seemed very... very... exciting.
Standing up, the weasel saluted. This involved, among other things, one whirl-about, one kick at the deck that almost stubbed his toes, a tail-flutter as his whiskers splayed forward, and then both paws punching each-other in front of him, before being drawn to his chest with a solemn nod that sent his visor clanging shut once more. He lifted it up again.
"Well, if there's an embargo on the cakes' consumption, I think you're looking at the two beasts who might be able to do something about it," he said. He cleared his throat imperiously. "Just lead the way to this consumption, and me, Emp— Mister Steep and Zer-Char, we'll slay the embargo before any harm befalls your delicious and very, very moist snack cakes. Isn't that right, Zer-Char?" He blinked. "Or are you just Char? Are you undercover too?"
"Yeah," Char nodded. "I am. But I don't think that's wot an embar–"
"Once the embargo is slain, Mr. Captainfox, we will then rescue General Welfare. I hope to the seven planetary fates that he is safe... and has not been coerced to reveal any military secrets," the weasel added darkly. "The Embargos are known to be a dangerous species, capable of–"
Zheep stopped, staring. His stare was directed at Stripesail, and the unlucky creature that was the young weasel's steed.
Then he bowed.
"I see your Grr'uktrivigar cloaking device is in prime order, fellow weasel of small stature." He put a paw up to his muzzle and whispered to Char: "I sense the Force is strong in this one, Zer-Char. Come with us," he said, turning back to Stripesail and offering his paw. "And we shall rule the galaxy together."
Char poked Zheep in the ribs.
"I mean, 'and we shall attend Captainfox's presentation of his fine starliner.'"
Char poked him again.
"–his fine ship."
Char smiled, just a little.
Stripesail Darkhedge
Stripe glared menacingly at Jeshal after the fox captain made his comment.
"Me paws bes purfec'ly keen misser meanie capain foxy!" he said with what he thought to be a mean and tough sounding voice.
He was about to comment again when suddenly the new weasel started staring at him. Other beasts only usually did that when he had dressed up in something weird or was running from a pranked crewmember.
"I see your Grr'uktrivigar cloaking device is in prime order, fellow weasel of small stature."
The newbeasts finally spoke to him, and then whispered something to his rat companion before continuing. "Come with us, And we shall rule the galaxy together...I mean, 'and we shall attend Captainfox's presentation of his fine starliner...–his fine ship."
Stripe gazed in awed silence at the newbeast. This one didn't look like he would faint after being pranked, but the other weasel lived in his own little world. Stripe always loved to prank beasts like that. He could make different pranks with those types of beasts.
Trying to look menacing again as he turned back to the captain he stuck out his tongue at the fox and climbed off the crewmember he'd been hanging on to. Remembering the fish he had left on the captain’s bed, Stripe said.
"An no fesh whaf be adapten Sripesal Dak'edgg, fearsest pie'rat an thee hi seas, bat an fesh whaf mite lak yo capain!"
And with that said he suddenly darted towards Char and climbed up onto his shoulders and turned to Zheep.
"An wee sail wrool Capainfoxy's pressytaton galac'see shep toge'her? Whit's that seppos'd te mean silly beasie?"
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Char grimaced as he was mountaineered. As Zheep's go-to-rat for alien infestations, it was always his job to wear the tube sock on his head, or stick his paws into the dark crab holes on the beach, or otherwise be the one who was in most desperate need of saving. The role called for nerves of steel and a good pair of lungs. The rat was using both — the nerves not to panic and throw the little weasel off, and the lungs to hold his breath so he wouldn't have to smell it.
Zheep burbled excitedly.
"Did you hear that, Char, did you hear that? What a strange foreign tongue — he must have learned to speak by monitoring transmissions!" Zheep grinned hugely. This was so exciting! He'd tried to monitor transmissions, once, but the lizard had skulked off after threatening to eat him.*
"Aye," Char sighed. "I heard it, Mr. Steep. Grr, little nuisance," the rat grumbled under his breath. "Strong in the force—if the force is diggin' claws into my neck, sure!"
* He'd actually bitten Zheep's footpaw as a warning, but the resulting musk bomb had sent the poor monitor away crying a few seconds later.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
What I wouldn' give to show ye a real pirate... Jeshal's eyes narrowed ponderously upon the little weasel who was doing his best to be imposing.
"I be thinkin' I be a rather decen' fellow, Master Dark'edge. Woe betide ye see the day I choose ter be a 'meanie', as ye put it. More woe ter those what push me wrath further. Now shut yer gob an' 'elp our new pal Mr Steep learn 'is way about or I'll lock ye in the bilge with only ol' crazy Griss ter talk to."
Jeshal tried not to shudder at the thought of the addle-brained creature sploshing around down there. He had never thought to take action since the time Griss had trapped him and Tanya in a crate. After all, she had been the captain then and he not even first mate. He wondered if Griss was anything like Layla, a fearsome intelligence hidden beneath madness. It didn't bear thinking about. There was a lot of that going around.
"So then, Steep an' Char, off we go then. First ter yer fine palace where ye'll be puttin' nose ter pillow. When it's a good day..."
The fox captain gestured theatrically to the stairs below and led the way.
