Jeshal the Ironclaw
Captain of the BlackShip
Staff member
Officer: Captain (Commander)
Fortuna Survivor
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(Short old thread where Captain Freedom appoints roles on The Golden Hide. Jeshal is appointed first mate and can't understand why. Starring: Anithias Freedom, Brek Larks, and Jeshal the Ironclaw. Mentions of Tomias Redford, Xhavek Mokorai, and Enguil Albine)
OF OFFICERS AND BETRAYALS
First post Thermidor 8, Yr. 1729
Anithias Freedom
OF OFFICERS AND BETRAYALS
First post Thermidor 8, Yr. 1729
Anithias Freedom
Anithias stood nervously on the quarterdeck, uncomfortable in his stiff collar and captain's jacket. For the first time it felt more like a hanging noose than an imperial honor. Then again, it was something of a noose – when you were a captain, you were forced to make difficult decisions. Decisions that could easily mean death for yourself and your crew. But more than that, it could kill friendships. Hang trusts, murder respect. Execute bonds of admiration. And today, more than any other day, Anithias was worried that death might be brought upon one such relationship.
Breathing in deeply, trying to reassure himself, Anithias reached a paw for the ship's bell. Seizing the rope, he banged the metallic clapper against its bronze shell. A high gong echoed from within, ringing like a death toll for the captain. His dread mounting, Anithias brought the bronze sphere two more times against the bell, then released the clapper. There, he had done it. Three rings. The universal signal for an announcement.
Slowly the crew congregated on the deck. They were swiftly growing accustomed to their captain's fondness of public announcements. It was true that he utilized the ship's bell more than any captain before him; the only time he could ever remember Tanya ringing the bell was to announce the officer's list. As he would now, fulfilling one of his duties as captain.
The crew gazed up at Anithias, a slight flicker of resentment among them. The novelty of announcements had long ago worn off, now becoming more of a chore for the crew than a break in the monotony of the sea life. Sensing that his presence on the quarterdeck might be inappropriate for this particular speech, Anithias descended the steps to stand before the quarterdeck. He checked to make sure the five scrolls were secure in his paw before he spoke.
"Crew," he began, "a month ago I told you that I could not make my decision regarding the officer's list without a little time to consider all the options. I had not intended on taking a full month to decide," he smiled briefly at this, "but the task before me was a difficult one. My only excuse is a dilemma which has plagued me these past few weeks, and which has been resolved with the greatest of personal strife."
Anithias sighed as he pulled from the pile a roll of parchment, carefully tied by a cream ribbon with a key on the end. "The position of Naval Chef, more popularly known as Cook," Anithias began, "is an essential rank on any ship. They are charged with the feeding of the crew and the stocking of vital commodities. A good chef can easily go on to higher positions, whether in the navy or in fine restaurants across the Imperium. Thus, it is essential that the Naval Chef be an experienced culinary artist. It is for this reason that I assign Tomias Redford to his third position as Naval Chef."
There was applause as the red fox approached. Anithias handed him his documentation, which included the key to his new cabin, before briefly shaking his paw. There was a moment of unspoken affection between them. Anithias still had a difficult time accepting Tomias' position in Armina's life, but he was beginning to, if not accept, at least ignore the ramifications of Tomias' involvement with Anithias' former goddaughter.
Once Tomias had moved on, Anithias fished out a green ribboned scroll. "The position of Aide-de-camp," he announced, "has always been an important one. It is considered the testing ground for potential High Officer material. Aides are charged with much of the paperwork relating to the running of a ship, a pursuit I am well aware can be maddening. However, if you show an aptitude for handling menial tasks, it can open many doors for your naval future. Many captains, including myself, were Aide-de-camps. Moreover, it is an excellent test of a beast's ability to juggle naval responsibilities and a personal life," he joked. Several of the crew laughed. Those who had been around for a great while remembered the captain's own marital difficulties during his tenure as Aide.
"So," Anithias continued, "I am proud to nominate perhaps the youngest Aide in naval history: Brek Larks." Applause rang out as the young brown todd approached, accepting his scroll and shaking Anithias' paw. Anithias smiled fondly at the youngster, giving him soft words of congratulations. As Brek moved to stand beside Tomias, Anithias fished out a scroll tied with severe black ribbon.
"The position of Boatswain," Anithias started, a warning note in his voice, "is not one looked upon with much fondness by the crew. Bosuns are charged with disciplining the crew and ensuring order, and their means are not always pretty. A Bosun must be able to command respect among his or her crew, enough to ensure their proper behavior. We have among our crew a former Bosun of the Hide, one whom I know will be glad to return to his old position: Enguil Albine."
There was muted applause as Anithias' old friend approached, shaking the captain's paw and accepting back his commission as Bosun. Anithias smiled at the albino and muttered to him, "Don't be too hard on them." He patted Enguil once on the back before sending him off to stand beside the rest of the selected officers.
Anithias fingered the scroll he had been dreading. It was wrapped in silver ribbon and did not have a key, the reason being the beast who would receive the scroll already possessed the key. "This," Anithias began apologetically, "was perhaps the hardest appointment to fill. We have two very excellent candidates for Second Officer, one of whom already fills this position and the other serving directly below him. Both have shown continued excellence and dedication. However, eventually a decision had to be made."
Anithias bowed his head briefly before calling, somewhat more subdued, "I reinstate Xhavek Mokorai in his position of Second Officer." There was a brief smattering of applause, somewhat muffled due to the shock of the appointment. Many of the crew were indignant that Mokorai, a fine officer in every respect, had been passed over for the First Officership. Anithias himself could understand and agree with them. It had been the most difficult decision of his lifetime; both equally deserved the First Officership. However, eventually Anithias had been forced to choose the second candidate over Xhavek. Anithias only hoped Mokorai could understand the pain it had caused him.
Anithias handed the silver scroll to Xhavek, his expression welling with apology and regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered briefly before sending Xhavek to stand beside the others.
Seeking to get the whole affair over with, Anithias pulled out the final scroll. It was finely decorated with red and gold ribbon, the largest of the keys tied on its end. "Our First Officer," Anithias announced with a shade of haste, "is our beloved Bosun, Jeshal the Ironclaw." He handed off the scroll to Jeshal before shaking his vulpine paw. His gaze remained locked on Jeshal's unreadable eyes as they did so. "Mokorai is a good beast," he told Jeshal warningly. "Do not make me regret my appointment."
With the ceremonies over, Anithias turned back to the crew. "Other appointments will be listed on my cabin door. For now, go and congratulate our officers!"
Anithias waved his paw toward the five officers, escaping into the background as swiftly as he could.
Brek Larks
Anithias had called together the crew, and Brek stood somewhere in the crowd. Promotion day, it had come, and Brek's paws began to sweat as he stood beside sea-beasts of the Hide. His breathing and heart rate increased as the crew grew more nervous and excited. Mixed feelings of confidence and doubt troubled the lad.
When the captain announced that Tomias was the ship's cook Brek couldn't contain himself and shouted "Go Tomias!" though his voice was muffled by the loud clapping and his panicked state. Before Anithias continued Brek started to worry. If a beast as good as Tomias got a rank as low as cook, even though it was a great officer's rank, then it would be impossible for a youngster like Brek to make it in the officers.
"The position of Aide-de-camp," he announced, "has always been an important one. It is considered the testing ground for potential High Officer material. Aides are charged with much of the paperwork relating to the running of a ship, a pursuit I am well aware can be maddening. However, if you show an aptitude for handling menial tasks, it can open many doors for your naval future. Many captains, including myself, were Aide-de-camps. Moreover, it is an excellent test of a beast's ability to juggle naval responsibilities and a personal life," the captain joked but Brek was so nervous he didn't laugh along.
"I am proud to nominate perhaps the youngest Aide in naval history: Brek Larks." Brek almost fainted if it weren't for the beasts directly behind him. Slowly the slightly embarrassed todd made his way to the captain. Brek took the scroll and shook the captain's paw weakly in his dizziness.
"Thank ye sir, I won't let you down," Brek promised the captain before standing next to Tomias. Brek gave a weak smile at the new cook. "Congratulations Tomias!"
The excited todd was silent for the rest of the procession, he shivered violently and couldn't stop glancing at his scroll in his hand. The next beast to walk up was Enguil, a beast Brek hardly knew other than a fellow crewbeast, but he still clapped for him. Then Xhavek came up remaining as Second Officer, He clapped and nodded at the lizard. Then much to Brek's surprise Anithias announced he had chosen the Ironclaw as First Mate. Brek's face flushed and ears drooped. The Ironclaw was not considered a friend of Brek's and not an enemy. But Brek never would have guessed Anithias would trust Jeshal that much.
The todd clapped slowly as the copper furred fox walked up and accepted his scroll. "Well done Ironclaw," Brek whispered as the First Mate walked by him to stand in line.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
At the captain's bell, Jeshal padded over to the front line of the gathered ranks and stood in silence. He grinned at the whispering masses, the excitable deckhands who looked so hopeful, like kits at the opening of a sweetshop. The concept of seeking out a reason to be proud evaded the Ironclaw. It was laughable, amusing; exploitable. He would listen to Anithias's speech and snicker at every idiot that gained a rank. All in his mind of course. He was no fool. At least not openly.
Captain Freedom began his speech with a taint of reluctance. For all his experience and talent in verbal communication, the golden fox had an air of discomfort. Jeshal heard some of the crowd draw in breath as Freedom began dishing out power to the vermin cretins.
"I assign Tomias Redford to his third position as Naval Chef."
Jeshal applauded along with the rest and put on a new edge to his sneer. Fantastic...give the slacker the job o' feedin' us all. What a choice. Ah well, may'aps the liddle upstart'll find 'is paws in there and enjoy 'imself.
"I am proud to nominate perhaps the youngest Aide in naval history: Brek Larks," the captain announced.
Now there's a beast to keep an eye on, the copper todd mused. He had little quarrel with Brek. The little fox was determined and hardworking, braving the dangers of a sailor's life with almost pleasure and readiness. But Master Larks did not have a hard heart, and that made him a liability. Jeshal had noticed how rife kindness and decency had become amongst the crew of the Hide. The natural vermin need for power and chaos was dying out in the bloodlines. Under the surface, there were still a great many beasts with the genetic fever. It was only a matter of time before something bubbled over...
Jeshal's thoughts were broken once more as the next rank was called.
"We have among our crew a former Bosun of the Hide, one whom I know will be glad to return to his old position: Enguil Albine."
His eyes widened, fur bristling. Could it be? Usurped by his predecessor? Partially Jeshal could not care less. Enguil deserved the position back. Maybe it had only been a temporary position anyway. Even so, the removal of his rank stung. Another peg down from getting his paws on Ryalor. The Ironclaw clapped slowly; savagely.
Then, Freedom continued... "We have two very excellent candidates for Second Officer, one of whom already fills this position and the other serving directly below him."
Jeshal's ears pricked skyward. What? He scolded himself. It was not as though he had not worked hard, despite his reasons for doing so. Whilst he had not given Freedom a major cause to promote him, he had at least been consistent.
"I reinstate Xhavek Mokorai in his position of Second Officer."
The Ironclaw did not even clap. What in 'Gates was Freedom doing? Shocked gasps and whispers were widespread. Jeshal's stomach churned uneasily. The waves of unrest washed over him. If he does what I think he's goin' ter do...just more reasons fer the crew ter turn on him. I ain't the favourite around 'ere...
Anithias brought out the last scroll. The Ironclaw started to feel sick. "Our First Officer, is our beloved Bosun, Jeshal the Ironclaw."
Had Jeshal been of thinner blood he would probably have fainted. His surprise was almost entirely uncontained. He wanted to shout 'Why?' or 'What's the game?', even 'Yer'll never take me alive!'... if it turned out that the golden captain had been reading his mind for weeks. Instead, the stunned fox simply approached Freedom, forcing his expression into the mask that everyone had come to accept as his normal face. He took the red and gold ribboned scroll, tense under the disbelieving stares of the crew. He had never wanted so much attention, nor so much power. If you had power, someone wanted to take it. You made yourself a target. He stared into Anithias's eyes for any hint of reasoning, but chose not to linger too long.
And then came the distrust: "Mokorai is a good beast. Do not make me regret my appointment."
Jeshal smiled. "Aye, aye, Cap'n." You have no idea...
He turned, lost in a world of ghosts, to return to the ranks, his iron paw unwittingly crushing the scroll at its centre. Larks congratulated him as he passed, causing him to halt momentarily and offer an acknowledging nod of thanks.
The Ironclaw took in a deep breath, waiting for the call to dismiss. Sickened by the irony, he began to realise that he'd become just another idiot, another cretin gaining status. What this meant with regard to his obsessive quest, he had barely begun to contemplate.
Breathing in deeply, trying to reassure himself, Anithias reached a paw for the ship's bell. Seizing the rope, he banged the metallic clapper against its bronze shell. A high gong echoed from within, ringing like a death toll for the captain. His dread mounting, Anithias brought the bronze sphere two more times against the bell, then released the clapper. There, he had done it. Three rings. The universal signal for an announcement.
Slowly the crew congregated on the deck. They were swiftly growing accustomed to their captain's fondness of public announcements. It was true that he utilized the ship's bell more than any captain before him; the only time he could ever remember Tanya ringing the bell was to announce the officer's list. As he would now, fulfilling one of his duties as captain.
The crew gazed up at Anithias, a slight flicker of resentment among them. The novelty of announcements had long ago worn off, now becoming more of a chore for the crew than a break in the monotony of the sea life. Sensing that his presence on the quarterdeck might be inappropriate for this particular speech, Anithias descended the steps to stand before the quarterdeck. He checked to make sure the five scrolls were secure in his paw before he spoke.
"Crew," he began, "a month ago I told you that I could not make my decision regarding the officer's list without a little time to consider all the options. I had not intended on taking a full month to decide," he smiled briefly at this, "but the task before me was a difficult one. My only excuse is a dilemma which has plagued me these past few weeks, and which has been resolved with the greatest of personal strife."
Anithias sighed as he pulled from the pile a roll of parchment, carefully tied by a cream ribbon with a key on the end. "The position of Naval Chef, more popularly known as Cook," Anithias began, "is an essential rank on any ship. They are charged with the feeding of the crew and the stocking of vital commodities. A good chef can easily go on to higher positions, whether in the navy or in fine restaurants across the Imperium. Thus, it is essential that the Naval Chef be an experienced culinary artist. It is for this reason that I assign Tomias Redford to his third position as Naval Chef."
There was applause as the red fox approached. Anithias handed him his documentation, which included the key to his new cabin, before briefly shaking his paw. There was a moment of unspoken affection between them. Anithias still had a difficult time accepting Tomias' position in Armina's life, but he was beginning to, if not accept, at least ignore the ramifications of Tomias' involvement with Anithias' former goddaughter.
Once Tomias had moved on, Anithias fished out a green ribboned scroll. "The position of Aide-de-camp," he announced, "has always been an important one. It is considered the testing ground for potential High Officer material. Aides are charged with much of the paperwork relating to the running of a ship, a pursuit I am well aware can be maddening. However, if you show an aptitude for handling menial tasks, it can open many doors for your naval future. Many captains, including myself, were Aide-de-camps. Moreover, it is an excellent test of a beast's ability to juggle naval responsibilities and a personal life," he joked. Several of the crew laughed. Those who had been around for a great while remembered the captain's own marital difficulties during his tenure as Aide.
"So," Anithias continued, "I am proud to nominate perhaps the youngest Aide in naval history: Brek Larks." Applause rang out as the young brown todd approached, accepting his scroll and shaking Anithias' paw. Anithias smiled fondly at the youngster, giving him soft words of congratulations. As Brek moved to stand beside Tomias, Anithias fished out a scroll tied with severe black ribbon.
"The position of Boatswain," Anithias started, a warning note in his voice, "is not one looked upon with much fondness by the crew. Bosuns are charged with disciplining the crew and ensuring order, and their means are not always pretty. A Bosun must be able to command respect among his or her crew, enough to ensure their proper behavior. We have among our crew a former Bosun of the Hide, one whom I know will be glad to return to his old position: Enguil Albine."
There was muted applause as Anithias' old friend approached, shaking the captain's paw and accepting back his commission as Bosun. Anithias smiled at the albino and muttered to him, "Don't be too hard on them." He patted Enguil once on the back before sending him off to stand beside the rest of the selected officers.
Anithias fingered the scroll he had been dreading. It was wrapped in silver ribbon and did not have a key, the reason being the beast who would receive the scroll already possessed the key. "This," Anithias began apologetically, "was perhaps the hardest appointment to fill. We have two very excellent candidates for Second Officer, one of whom already fills this position and the other serving directly below him. Both have shown continued excellence and dedication. However, eventually a decision had to be made."
Anithias bowed his head briefly before calling, somewhat more subdued, "I reinstate Xhavek Mokorai in his position of Second Officer." There was a brief smattering of applause, somewhat muffled due to the shock of the appointment. Many of the crew were indignant that Mokorai, a fine officer in every respect, had been passed over for the First Officership. Anithias himself could understand and agree with them. It had been the most difficult decision of his lifetime; both equally deserved the First Officership. However, eventually Anithias had been forced to choose the second candidate over Xhavek. Anithias only hoped Mokorai could understand the pain it had caused him.
Anithias handed the silver scroll to Xhavek, his expression welling with apology and regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered briefly before sending Xhavek to stand beside the others.
Seeking to get the whole affair over with, Anithias pulled out the final scroll. It was finely decorated with red and gold ribbon, the largest of the keys tied on its end. "Our First Officer," Anithias announced with a shade of haste, "is our beloved Bosun, Jeshal the Ironclaw." He handed off the scroll to Jeshal before shaking his vulpine paw. His gaze remained locked on Jeshal's unreadable eyes as they did so. "Mokorai is a good beast," he told Jeshal warningly. "Do not make me regret my appointment."
With the ceremonies over, Anithias turned back to the crew. "Other appointments will be listed on my cabin door. For now, go and congratulate our officers!"
Anithias waved his paw toward the five officers, escaping into the background as swiftly as he could.
Brek Larks
Anithias had called together the crew, and Brek stood somewhere in the crowd. Promotion day, it had come, and Brek's paws began to sweat as he stood beside sea-beasts of the Hide. His breathing and heart rate increased as the crew grew more nervous and excited. Mixed feelings of confidence and doubt troubled the lad.
When the captain announced that Tomias was the ship's cook Brek couldn't contain himself and shouted "Go Tomias!" though his voice was muffled by the loud clapping and his panicked state. Before Anithias continued Brek started to worry. If a beast as good as Tomias got a rank as low as cook, even though it was a great officer's rank, then it would be impossible for a youngster like Brek to make it in the officers.
"The position of Aide-de-camp," he announced, "has always been an important one. It is considered the testing ground for potential High Officer material. Aides are charged with much of the paperwork relating to the running of a ship, a pursuit I am well aware can be maddening. However, if you show an aptitude for handling menial tasks, it can open many doors for your naval future. Many captains, including myself, were Aide-de-camps. Moreover, it is an excellent test of a beast's ability to juggle naval responsibilities and a personal life," the captain joked but Brek was so nervous he didn't laugh along.
"I am proud to nominate perhaps the youngest Aide in naval history: Brek Larks." Brek almost fainted if it weren't for the beasts directly behind him. Slowly the slightly embarrassed todd made his way to the captain. Brek took the scroll and shook the captain's paw weakly in his dizziness.
"Thank ye sir, I won't let you down," Brek promised the captain before standing next to Tomias. Brek gave a weak smile at the new cook. "Congratulations Tomias!"
The excited todd was silent for the rest of the procession, he shivered violently and couldn't stop glancing at his scroll in his hand. The next beast to walk up was Enguil, a beast Brek hardly knew other than a fellow crewbeast, but he still clapped for him. Then Xhavek came up remaining as Second Officer, He clapped and nodded at the lizard. Then much to Brek's surprise Anithias announced he had chosen the Ironclaw as First Mate. Brek's face flushed and ears drooped. The Ironclaw was not considered a friend of Brek's and not an enemy. But Brek never would have guessed Anithias would trust Jeshal that much.
The todd clapped slowly as the copper furred fox walked up and accepted his scroll. "Well done Ironclaw," Brek whispered as the First Mate walked by him to stand in line.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
At the captain's bell, Jeshal padded over to the front line of the gathered ranks and stood in silence. He grinned at the whispering masses, the excitable deckhands who looked so hopeful, like kits at the opening of a sweetshop. The concept of seeking out a reason to be proud evaded the Ironclaw. It was laughable, amusing; exploitable. He would listen to Anithias's speech and snicker at every idiot that gained a rank. All in his mind of course. He was no fool. At least not openly.
Captain Freedom began his speech with a taint of reluctance. For all his experience and talent in verbal communication, the golden fox had an air of discomfort. Jeshal heard some of the crowd draw in breath as Freedom began dishing out power to the vermin cretins.
"I assign Tomias Redford to his third position as Naval Chef."
Jeshal applauded along with the rest and put on a new edge to his sneer. Fantastic...give the slacker the job o' feedin' us all. What a choice. Ah well, may'aps the liddle upstart'll find 'is paws in there and enjoy 'imself.
"I am proud to nominate perhaps the youngest Aide in naval history: Brek Larks," the captain announced.
Now there's a beast to keep an eye on, the copper todd mused. He had little quarrel with Brek. The little fox was determined and hardworking, braving the dangers of a sailor's life with almost pleasure and readiness. But Master Larks did not have a hard heart, and that made him a liability. Jeshal had noticed how rife kindness and decency had become amongst the crew of the Hide. The natural vermin need for power and chaos was dying out in the bloodlines. Under the surface, there were still a great many beasts with the genetic fever. It was only a matter of time before something bubbled over...
Jeshal's thoughts were broken once more as the next rank was called.
"We have among our crew a former Bosun of the Hide, one whom I know will be glad to return to his old position: Enguil Albine."
His eyes widened, fur bristling. Could it be? Usurped by his predecessor? Partially Jeshal could not care less. Enguil deserved the position back. Maybe it had only been a temporary position anyway. Even so, the removal of his rank stung. Another peg down from getting his paws on Ryalor. The Ironclaw clapped slowly; savagely.
Then, Freedom continued... "We have two very excellent candidates for Second Officer, one of whom already fills this position and the other serving directly below him."
Jeshal's ears pricked skyward. What? He scolded himself. It was not as though he had not worked hard, despite his reasons for doing so. Whilst he had not given Freedom a major cause to promote him, he had at least been consistent.
"I reinstate Xhavek Mokorai in his position of Second Officer."
The Ironclaw did not even clap. What in 'Gates was Freedom doing? Shocked gasps and whispers were widespread. Jeshal's stomach churned uneasily. The waves of unrest washed over him. If he does what I think he's goin' ter do...just more reasons fer the crew ter turn on him. I ain't the favourite around 'ere...
Anithias brought out the last scroll. The Ironclaw started to feel sick. "Our First Officer, is our beloved Bosun, Jeshal the Ironclaw."
Had Jeshal been of thinner blood he would probably have fainted. His surprise was almost entirely uncontained. He wanted to shout 'Why?' or 'What's the game?', even 'Yer'll never take me alive!'... if it turned out that the golden captain had been reading his mind for weeks. Instead, the stunned fox simply approached Freedom, forcing his expression into the mask that everyone had come to accept as his normal face. He took the red and gold ribboned scroll, tense under the disbelieving stares of the crew. He had never wanted so much attention, nor so much power. If you had power, someone wanted to take it. You made yourself a target. He stared into Anithias's eyes for any hint of reasoning, but chose not to linger too long.
And then came the distrust: "Mokorai is a good beast. Do not make me regret my appointment."
Jeshal smiled. "Aye, aye, Cap'n." You have no idea...
He turned, lost in a world of ghosts, to return to the ranks, his iron paw unwittingly crushing the scroll at its centre. Larks congratulated him as he passed, causing him to halt momentarily and offer an acknowledging nod of thanks.
The Ironclaw took in a deep breath, waiting for the call to dismiss. Sickened by the irony, he began to realise that he'd become just another idiot, another cretin gaining status. What this meant with regard to his obsessive quest, he had barely begun to contemplate.
