Jeshal the Ironclaw
Captain of the BlackShip
Staff member
Officer: Captain (Commander)
Fortuna Survivor
- Character Biography
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(Silly old thread where the crew of the Golden Hide accidentally drank hallucinogenic grog that regressed them temporarily into thinking they were kits. Unfortunately, it didn't get chance to take off and is only a few posts long. Starring: Skip, Pike, Armina Rogue, Jeshal the Ironclaw, and Xhavek Mokorai)
SECOND KITHOODS ALWAYS COME EARLY
First post Primary 16, Yr. 1730
Skip/Pike/Armina Rogue
((Warning: Excessive amounts of Skip and Pike dialogue may be hazardous to your health. Skip and Pike are not for those who are nursing, pregnant, or may become pregnant. Common side effects include blurry vision, blank mind, and complete mental meltdown.))
The night was rather unremarkable in every sense. A single breeze whistled through the sails of The Golden Hide, barely causing the heavy canvas to flutter. Soft ocean waves lapped against the hull, rocking the ship faintly side to side. Together with the warm creaking sounds of the ship, it was enough to put the entire crew to sleep within seconds.
All of the crew, that was, but two forms stealing silently across the deck. Cat paws pattered down the stairs to the mess, unguarded at this time of night, and through to the galley. Provisions were lumped around the room, awaiting their chopping, boiling, stirring, cooking, and eating, not necessarily in that order. Ignoring the sacks and crates, the two beasts made straight for a large keg at the back of the room, marked with a clumsily scrawled "GROGG – KEAP AWEY". Ignoring this warning, the felines pried off the top with a crowbar they'd brought just for the task. The smell of fermented barley hit their noses like a runaway badger.
"'Hew," the shorter one commented, breathing in deeply. "Dun' tha' smell laike a mill'n gildahs!" He reached to scoop up a pawful, but his companion slapped his paws away.
"Gerr'off, Pike. We don' wan' the cap'n tah know we wuz 'ere."
"Aye, I knows tha'," Pike weedled. "Bu' jis' one sip, Skippy, one sip!"
"Nah," said Skippy firmly. "'S fah t'marrah, an' ih'll stay fah t'marrah."
"Bu' why, Skip? Why t'marrah?"
"'Cuz t'marrah's the feast in honor o' the Grog Dumpin' Partay o' 1679, an' all the crew'll drink up this grog laike i' wuz the las' barrel in Bully 'Arbour!"
Pike looked sadly at the grog. "An' we gonna le'em drink up all the grog?" he asked.
Skip snickered. "Aye, wit' one li'l touch o' aurs. Y'bring wha' I asks fah from the 'pothecary?"
"Aye." Pike pulled a reused grog bottle from his belt. Skip seized it, uncorking it and carefully dumping a small amount of some odorless liquid into the keg. Quickly he recapped it, handing it back to Pike, and pressed the lid back on the keg. "Good. Now we jis' wait fah t'marrah."
"Bu' why t'marr– "
"Y'already ask' me tha' blas'ed quess'n, Pike!" Skip snarled. Pike quavered under his accomplice's gaze. Skip softened somewhat, seeming to consider the short cat's query. "Guessit can' 'urt tah tell ya 'his much... bu' ya can' tell a soul, mate, else we'll both 'ang!"
"Nevah tell a soul, promise!" Pike crossed his heart, accidentally doing the four points backwards.
Skippy paced for a few seconds, slanted eyes gazing intensely into the distance. Pike knew that the air of contemplation was just for show, but it was still impressive to him; Pike had never contemplated anything in his life.
"Wot we 'ave 'ere, Pike, in tha' bah'le, issa potion. Righ' weir' sor'a potion too; it come from the sout', made from the plan's wot grows there. S'pposedly, the natives wot ate o' those plan's gah' all strangelike, star'ed actin' laike kits again. Well, when I 'ears abou' this, I says, says I, 'this'd make a righ' ol' joke tah play on the crew.' I said it, said I! Bu' I' 'ad tah be some time when all the crew wuz there, ge'm all a' once. An' then I thinks, 'O' course! The Grog Dumpin' Partay, when all the crew'll be drinkin' their tops off from the same ba'el!' Slip i' in, an' no'ne's the wiser!"
Pike took a sip of grog from his personal stash. It was unusually sweet grog. "Bu' wha'r 'bou' us, Skip?" he asked anxiously. "Woul'n we be drinkin' the barrel too?"
"Nah, we worm our way ou'a i', woul'n we? We jis' say– "
"Sip?"
"Oh, aye, thankee." Skippy took a sip from Pike's bottle before continuing. "Well, we jis' say we ain' feelin' too well an' we 'as tah stay in aur bunks, an' no'ne's the wiser! 'N we ge's ter watch the crew run 'roun' an' make fools o' themselves fer a few hours!" He took another sip, this time wrinkling his nose. "Wot we drinkin' 'ere, Pike?"
Pike shrugged. "Dunna. Foun' i' in me 'ip flask."
Skip examined the bottle carefully. "This dun' look laike yer 'ip flask, Pi-"
The same terrifying thought reached both of them at the same time. Both cats looked at each other in horror before bolting from the galley, leaving a bottle of clear liquid to bleed out slowly onto the floor.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Armina had no idea how she had gotten on this ship, or why there were a bunch of beasts running around playing games or whining for their mothers. Her eyes, affected by the hallucinogenic Skip and Pike had so cleverly poured into the grog and then drank themselves, did not view those around her as adults acting like kits, but actually as kits. It was one of the peculiarities of the drug that it completely encased the users in the illusion of their kithood, even to the extent of causing her to believe that she really was surrounded by kits roughly her age – her age being the tender and venerable accumulation of seven seasons.
Right now Armina didn't care about these other kits and what they were doing – there was a feast laid out on the tables before her, and she wasn't going to waste a bit of it. Her sharp eyes darted over the table, snatching up anything that looked appetizing almost as soon as she laid eyes on it. All of her little collection she was scooping into a pouch formed from the hem of her shirt, ruining the nice material with fish grease and mashed potatoes.
A young male reached for a platter of desserts piled high beside her, and Armina quickly slapped his paw away from the goodies. "Mine!" she barked into his face, pushing him away with the paw that wasn't holding up her shirt hem. The kit stumbled backwards, tripping and falling to the ground. Blubbering pathetically, he went running off in search of his mummy.
As soon as Armina was sure he was gone, she grabbed the desserts and started piling them into her shirt three at a time.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
"'m goin' ter be in so much trouble..."
Jeshal stared at the grown-up's room in which he found himself. It looked important, full of piles of paperwork and lavish furniture, most of which he had already managed to get inky pawprints all over. Whoever this cabin belonged to he didn't think he wanted to meet them. It was just adding to his worries. Somehow, he did not know when, he had managed to get a metal glove stuck to his paw and no amount of tugging would pull it off. When he pulled too hard it just hurt his arm.
Thinking to get out of this situation before anyone caught him, the 'little' todd crept for the doorway. Almost there, he froze at the sight of movement in his right peripheral. Very slowly he turned to face the creature that was staring at him. There before him was an adult fox, a captain no less, his eyes terrifying. Jeshal yelped and fled the image of the mirror, throwing wide the cabin door. He bolted out onto the deck, yelling, "I di'n' do it!"
The Ironclaw dove behind one of the masts and flattened himself against its trunk. Taking a moment to catch his breath he suddenly noticed the surprising amount of kits running about the ship: clambering the rigging, fighting over the helm, playfighting, some trying to scrub each other's faces with soapy brushes. Jeshal broke out into a sneering grin. He was sure that the angry captain would forget all about what he had seen the moment he stepped out and saw all these naughty beasts.
"Ye be not about ter catch me, Cap'n, nay, s's I! Hahar!"
Xhavek Mokorai
Xhavek awoke with a start, he shook his scaly head and rubbed his sleepy eyes with his claws. He yawned and smacked his lips and his overly long tongue slapped him in the snout.
"Ow! Stupid being liddle!"
He rubbed his offended snout and shook himself all over. He didn't really notice that he was in a cabin of a ship, he had snuck aboard the tribe's ships many times. He also didn't notice that his claws bore vicious scars on them. He suddenly noticed a cane in the corner and smiled big. He seized it and swung it about like a warrior's maquhital. "When I get big I'm gonna be a great warrior an' I'mma gonna slay big mighty beasts and none of the bigga hatch'ings are gonna pick on me no more!"
He stomped out the door swinging it about, laying about him at imaginary enemies.
"WAAAAARG! HAHA! Flee before my might! RAAAARG!"
SECOND KITHOODS ALWAYS COME EARLY
First post Primary 16, Yr. 1730
Skip/Pike/Armina Rogue
((Warning: Excessive amounts of Skip and Pike dialogue may be hazardous to your health. Skip and Pike are not for those who are nursing, pregnant, or may become pregnant. Common side effects include blurry vision, blank mind, and complete mental meltdown.))
The night was rather unremarkable in every sense. A single breeze whistled through the sails of The Golden Hide, barely causing the heavy canvas to flutter. Soft ocean waves lapped against the hull, rocking the ship faintly side to side. Together with the warm creaking sounds of the ship, it was enough to put the entire crew to sleep within seconds.
All of the crew, that was, but two forms stealing silently across the deck. Cat paws pattered down the stairs to the mess, unguarded at this time of night, and through to the galley. Provisions were lumped around the room, awaiting their chopping, boiling, stirring, cooking, and eating, not necessarily in that order. Ignoring the sacks and crates, the two beasts made straight for a large keg at the back of the room, marked with a clumsily scrawled "GROGG – KEAP AWEY". Ignoring this warning, the felines pried off the top with a crowbar they'd brought just for the task. The smell of fermented barley hit their noses like a runaway badger.
"'Hew," the shorter one commented, breathing in deeply. "Dun' tha' smell laike a mill'n gildahs!" He reached to scoop up a pawful, but his companion slapped his paws away.
"Gerr'off, Pike. We don' wan' the cap'n tah know we wuz 'ere."
"Aye, I knows tha'," Pike weedled. "Bu' jis' one sip, Skippy, one sip!"
"Nah," said Skippy firmly. "'S fah t'marrah, an' ih'll stay fah t'marrah."
"Bu' why, Skip? Why t'marrah?"
"'Cuz t'marrah's the feast in honor o' the Grog Dumpin' Partay o' 1679, an' all the crew'll drink up this grog laike i' wuz the las' barrel in Bully 'Arbour!"
Pike looked sadly at the grog. "An' we gonna le'em drink up all the grog?" he asked.
Skip snickered. "Aye, wit' one li'l touch o' aurs. Y'bring wha' I asks fah from the 'pothecary?"
"Aye." Pike pulled a reused grog bottle from his belt. Skip seized it, uncorking it and carefully dumping a small amount of some odorless liquid into the keg. Quickly he recapped it, handing it back to Pike, and pressed the lid back on the keg. "Good. Now we jis' wait fah t'marrah."
"Bu' why t'marr– "
"Y'already ask' me tha' blas'ed quess'n, Pike!" Skip snarled. Pike quavered under his accomplice's gaze. Skip softened somewhat, seeming to consider the short cat's query. "Guessit can' 'urt tah tell ya 'his much... bu' ya can' tell a soul, mate, else we'll both 'ang!"
"Nevah tell a soul, promise!" Pike crossed his heart, accidentally doing the four points backwards.
Skippy paced for a few seconds, slanted eyes gazing intensely into the distance. Pike knew that the air of contemplation was just for show, but it was still impressive to him; Pike had never contemplated anything in his life.
"Wot we 'ave 'ere, Pike, in tha' bah'le, issa potion. Righ' weir' sor'a potion too; it come from the sout', made from the plan's wot grows there. S'pposedly, the natives wot ate o' those plan's gah' all strangelike, star'ed actin' laike kits again. Well, when I 'ears abou' this, I says, says I, 'this'd make a righ' ol' joke tah play on the crew.' I said it, said I! Bu' I' 'ad tah be some time when all the crew wuz there, ge'm all a' once. An' then I thinks, 'O' course! The Grog Dumpin' Partay, when all the crew'll be drinkin' their tops off from the same ba'el!' Slip i' in, an' no'ne's the wiser!"
Pike took a sip of grog from his personal stash. It was unusually sweet grog. "Bu' wha'r 'bou' us, Skip?" he asked anxiously. "Woul'n we be drinkin' the barrel too?"
"Nah, we worm our way ou'a i', woul'n we? We jis' say– "
"Sip?"
"Oh, aye, thankee." Skippy took a sip from Pike's bottle before continuing. "Well, we jis' say we ain' feelin' too well an' we 'as tah stay in aur bunks, an' no'ne's the wiser! 'N we ge's ter watch the crew run 'roun' an' make fools o' themselves fer a few hours!" He took another sip, this time wrinkling his nose. "Wot we drinkin' 'ere, Pike?"
Pike shrugged. "Dunna. Foun' i' in me 'ip flask."
Skip examined the bottle carefully. "This dun' look laike yer 'ip flask, Pi-"
The same terrifying thought reached both of them at the same time. Both cats looked at each other in horror before bolting from the galley, leaving a bottle of clear liquid to bleed out slowly onto the floor.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Armina had no idea how she had gotten on this ship, or why there were a bunch of beasts running around playing games or whining for their mothers. Her eyes, affected by the hallucinogenic Skip and Pike had so cleverly poured into the grog and then drank themselves, did not view those around her as adults acting like kits, but actually as kits. It was one of the peculiarities of the drug that it completely encased the users in the illusion of their kithood, even to the extent of causing her to believe that she really was surrounded by kits roughly her age – her age being the tender and venerable accumulation of seven seasons.
Right now Armina didn't care about these other kits and what they were doing – there was a feast laid out on the tables before her, and she wasn't going to waste a bit of it. Her sharp eyes darted over the table, snatching up anything that looked appetizing almost as soon as she laid eyes on it. All of her little collection she was scooping into a pouch formed from the hem of her shirt, ruining the nice material with fish grease and mashed potatoes.
A young male reached for a platter of desserts piled high beside her, and Armina quickly slapped his paw away from the goodies. "Mine!" she barked into his face, pushing him away with the paw that wasn't holding up her shirt hem. The kit stumbled backwards, tripping and falling to the ground. Blubbering pathetically, he went running off in search of his mummy.
As soon as Armina was sure he was gone, she grabbed the desserts and started piling them into her shirt three at a time.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
"'m goin' ter be in so much trouble..."
Jeshal stared at the grown-up's room in which he found himself. It looked important, full of piles of paperwork and lavish furniture, most of which he had already managed to get inky pawprints all over. Whoever this cabin belonged to he didn't think he wanted to meet them. It was just adding to his worries. Somehow, he did not know when, he had managed to get a metal glove stuck to his paw and no amount of tugging would pull it off. When he pulled too hard it just hurt his arm.
Thinking to get out of this situation before anyone caught him, the 'little' todd crept for the doorway. Almost there, he froze at the sight of movement in his right peripheral. Very slowly he turned to face the creature that was staring at him. There before him was an adult fox, a captain no less, his eyes terrifying. Jeshal yelped and fled the image of the mirror, throwing wide the cabin door. He bolted out onto the deck, yelling, "I di'n' do it!"
The Ironclaw dove behind one of the masts and flattened himself against its trunk. Taking a moment to catch his breath he suddenly noticed the surprising amount of kits running about the ship: clambering the rigging, fighting over the helm, playfighting, some trying to scrub each other's faces with soapy brushes. Jeshal broke out into a sneering grin. He was sure that the angry captain would forget all about what he had seen the moment he stepped out and saw all these naughty beasts.
"Ye be not about ter catch me, Cap'n, nay, s's I! Hahar!"
Xhavek Mokorai
Xhavek awoke with a start, he shook his scaly head and rubbed his sleepy eyes with his claws. He yawned and smacked his lips and his overly long tongue slapped him in the snout.
"Ow! Stupid being liddle!"
He rubbed his offended snout and shook himself all over. He didn't really notice that he was in a cabin of a ship, he had snuck aboard the tribe's ships many times. He also didn't notice that his claws bore vicious scars on them. He suddenly noticed a cane in the corner and smiled big. He seized it and swung it about like a warrior's maquhital. "When I get big I'm gonna be a great warrior an' I'mma gonna slay big mighty beasts and none of the bigga hatch'ings are gonna pick on me no more!"
He stomped out the door swinging it about, laying about him at imaginary enemies.
"WAAAAARG! HAHA! Flee before my might! RAAAARG!"
