Expedition The Urk Expedition: Aggressive Negotiations

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan felt her heart sink a bit as she watched the chief shout up to her again in their impossible to discern language. They seemed to want Silvertongue to be sent down, though Morgan was by now quite certain that there was no demand for cake. They definitely wanted Silvertongue, but for what purpose? Her imagination could conjure up a couple of possibilities, none of which seemed good to her.

Yong ni de yanjing kan yi kan, she could her her Mum's voice in her head advising her. Ni kan dao shenme? Morgan fixed her eyes on the shrews, measuring their body language. It wasn't openly aggressive, but it was still hostile, and there was something dark in their eyes. Maybe Morgan was imagining or projecting it, but she was quite sure that, if they gave Silvertongue to these beasts, it would end badly.

Quindi si conclude che hanno cattive intenzioni, her Mother's voice advised in her mind. Cosa farai con queste informazioni? That was easy to answer: she would keep Silvertongue from being given to them. Her mind raced, pawing through scenarios until she came up with the only plausible one that would be believed.

"Captain, sir," she called, approaching the old Ryalor and lowering her voice. "Sir, it's been a bit hard to hear amidst the muddle, but I think I picked something up - chatter between the shrews, not what their chief is hearing. I could be misunderstanding, sir," she admitted. "Pronouns in their language aren't exactly straightforward; they tend to depend largely on context. They could be talking with excitement about their plans to eat the cake, sir. However, given the context, and the way they're looking at Silvertongue... My gut is telling me that they mean to eat him, sir. I think that this entire demand for cake has been a ruse in order to have us give up a beast for them to consume. I could be wrong, and their intentions could be pure, but if you want my honest opinion, sir? The cake is a lie."

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Meanwhile, Silvertongue was still balancing on one paw. Just as he was about to return to his feet, a sudden and violent gust of wind caught everyone off guard. It was powerful enough to cause a few beasts to stumble. Silvertongue felt himself being pushed forward, and he could only let out a terrified yelp as he suddenly plunged towards the ocean. Time seemed to come to a crawl. He was falling, yes, but seconds turned into minutes turned into hours turned into days, weeks, months, years stretched out into infinity. His mind raced, thinking back to what he could have done wrong. How could he have been so stupid? He hadn't accounted for the weather. Of course, it was apparent to him now, but why hadn't he thought of it sooner?! He managed to flip about in the air, turning to face the ship, his arms outstretched, and for what? There was no way anyone would have reacted fast enough to catch him, or throw a rope.

Silvertongue's back slammed into the icy water, and he almost instantly disappeared into the dark depths. The impact left him stunned, and he gasped for air, which only let seawater into his lungs. He was sinking, fast, his clothing weighing him down. The sunlight was fading. This was all happening rather fast, but for Silvertongue it was agonizingly slow. He tried to move his limps, but the pain mixed with the deadly cold water left him immobilized. It seemed all hope was lost.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn, despite his misgivings about the whole thing, thought things were going comparatively well. The shrews seemed to like his aide dancing, the banana bread smelled delicious and was likely to appease them, and they may be able to get through this whole thing without him having to shed much, if any, blood. Dusk would perhaps be happy her husband was finally learning the art of diplomacy instead of continuing to hone his reputation as a ruthless, cold calculating killer without mercy.

Just as he was about to give the order to begin to tie up Silvertongue and then lower him and the bread to the shrews to secure his safe passage, a worried Morgan came up to him, and he frowned. That did not bode well, but he listened to her somberly, and considered it. It did seem plausible enough for him that they could try to do this, given the experiences of the most who went on the island, but on the other hand, that was a lot of effort if they just wanted a single beast, and they only had six canoes against the might of the Hide and her crew. They could be preparing an ambush like Gyles suggested, but they were taking an awfully long time to do that, comparatively speaking. The odds seemed about fifty-fifty for him. Before he could make up his mind, however, a strong northerly gale blew across the ship, and Silvertongue went over the edge. Talinn rushed over to the side as fast as he could, watching as the poor young todd hit the water, a situation made worse by his fancy clothes which weighed him down and were hard to swim in or take off quickly.

“Somebeast throw a God-damned line down, now!” Talinn barked.

The Shrews, for their part, watched Silvertongue fall off and hit the water with a mixture of shock, and then laughter. The lead Shrew barked something to the other in his canoe, and it propelled forward quickly, then expertly stabbed a spear into the water and pulled upwards. Talinn was almost ready to give the order to fire, his paw lifted in the air to do so, but soon Silvertongue was hauled up from the depths with his clothes, and the Shrews pulled him aboard the canoe.

“Steady, everyone, steady!” He shouted again.

Maybe they were simply rescuing Silvertongue as a sign of good faith? A line was thrown down into the water close to the dugout, and Talinn gestured with his paws for them to come closer, let Silvertongue grab hold of the line, and then be pulled up.

“Morgan, tell them that we have their real tribute, and that his fall was a mistake and we would appreciate it if they could re-”

As he was speaking, the Shrew leader looked directly up at him, smiled, pulled Silvertongue up to where he could put a knife on his neck, and then shouted up back at him. Talinn didn’t understand the quick words that followed, but he did understand this was a hostage situation.

tamanna piujummariulauqtuq ammalu tunnganaqtiarluta! maanna quliujut tuqłuangit naksiutiniaqpavut, amma sigjattinnut sailitilaaqpatit!

That was an excellent performance and a great way to give us our hostage! Now send the ten beasts as sacrifice, and we shall let you onto our shores in peace!


“Fuzakenna…”’ Talinn seethed in Southern Fyadoran, loudly enough for Morgan to hear, a rare expressly vulgar comment more suited for his youthful days as a commander than that of a dignified older fox.

“Silvertongue, do you trust me?” Talinn shouted down in Vulpinsulan.

Silvertongue had a dazed look on his face, but he wasn't so out of it that he couldn't comprehend what Talinn was saying. "Do I trust you...? Of course I do.”

“Whatever you do, do not move a single inch,” Talinn instructed carefully “when you get released, throw yourself as far from that dugout and dive down as deep as you can, stay for around fifteen seconds. Then go for the line with all your strength. Do you understand?”

Silvertongue could do little more than let out a slight nod. His eyes shifted towards the water, he was clearly not thrilled at the idea of going back into the icy depths. But what other choice did he have?

With that, Talinn gave him a nod, then placed one paw on the hilt of his wakizashi, out of the sight of the shrews from down below, drawing it slowly and carefully. The beautiful, silverly rippling pattern of Auldarnian Steel greeted him, the comparatively small blade itself a masterwork from Westisle that cost as much as a manor in the Insanely Rich Area. He shook his head. He only hoped he or somebeast would be able to recover it after what he had to do and that the water was not too deep.

“Shoganai…” he muttered loudly enough for those around him to hear, again in Southern Fyadoran, keeping the blade behind his back as walked to the edge of the Hide’s railings against and glanced down at Silvertongue, doing a few mental calculations in his head. Then, in rapid succession, a series of events that led directly to hell began.

He pointed directly at the Shrew leader, and, in a loud, clear voice that all could hear, shouted in Southern Fyadoran.

“Shinee, Konoyaro!”

In a flash, Talinn flung the beautiful wakizashi with all his might forward in a precise, gracious flight only a beast of his skill could pull off, the extremely sharpened blade missing Silvertongue’s face by a mere half-inch and embedding itself directly in the Shrew chieftan’s neck, causing him to lose his grip on Silvertongue as he staggered backward, blood gushing out of his throat. Talinn shouted for Silvertongue to jump as he threw his paw down.

“Marines, Fire At Will!” He commanded.

The shrews on the boat, momentarily stunned by what happpened, afforded Silvertongue a small sliver of time to jump, before they began to chuck their spears. One went directly towards Talinn’s head, missing him by an even closer margin than his blade had missed Silvertongue, actually cutting off some of his fur and giving him a superficial wound across the edge of his right face. A few spears went following after Silvertongue, and one was aimed at the line, which it hit and was now severed. Silvertongue would be fighting with all his strength to reach that line in the freezing waters...and now it was cut. His only chance was if somebeast was willing to leap into the water, braving crossbow bolts and spears, to grab him and pull him up, and hope that the combat was over by the time they surfaced.

@Gyles @SwifttailTheFox @Ralynn Waverunner @Morgan Liu @Vihmastaja @FinnianBrightfur @Tobin Hestra @Silvertongue Songfox

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn, his task accomplished for now, lurked quietly back alongside Morgan. He watched the situation apprehensively from the deck railing, watching the shrews in their boats. He'd never seen shrews before, but they seemed to have a contempt for the Hide -- and Finn returned the scorn in kind. Especially as they laughed at Silvie. They all probably had fleas, the filthy dumb brutes!

As the gust blew Silvie into the water, Finn was too shocked to respond. He watched, frozen at the railing, and let out a gasp as the shrew thrust his spear in the water. Gates, they've killed him!

The kit watched on in awe -- at the captain's magnificent throw, the dying chieftain, and the volley of crossbow bolts that tore into the shrews. It was an awesome sight to behold, and the kit couldn't look away. At least, until a spear was hurled towards the captain.

Finn sprawled on the deck, and scrambled as he looked for something to throw back at the shrews. No, not an axe. That was too useful. And certainly not his knife. Ahh. This would do.

"If y'want the banana bread that badly, then TAKE IT!" came a high pitched war cry from the kit as he hurled the bread at the closest shrew with every drop of malice and fury he could muster.

Edit: Finn watched in dismay as the banana bread splashed down in the ocean, yards away from his intended target. The loaf floated for a moment, giving an agonizingly long goodbye to the Hide before the cold waters took it to the deeps.

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan froze, not from the cold wind, but the sight of the chaos and carnage unfolding. All of her worst fears were confirmed when Silvie went overboard and was clearly taken hostage. She couldn't even find the retribution by the Hide to be disproportionate. A part of her heart did feel anguish over her failure to communicate; some part of her would always wonder if she could have done things differently. In this world, however, Silvie was in trouble, and it was all her fault.

Morgan stripped her jacket before she had time to second guess herself, and she leaped into the water, remembering on the way down to put her feet together and arms to her side for a pencil dive. She wasn't the strongest swimmer in the world, but she'd grown up by the ocean (several oceans, actually) and had been swimming since she was a girl. Still, the water was frigid, and Morgan knew from quite recent experience that it would become debilitating soon.

Morgan took a deep breath and dove, her eyes searching amidst spears and arrows for signs of the fox. She caught sight of blue and orange, and she swam for it, finding the fox in the water and hauling him to the surface. As the broke, she made sure he was breathing as arrows fell around them. 'Gates, there was no way they could stay here, if they tried to climb up or waited for a rope, they'd get shot. There was a possibility, but it was insane, if it went wrong they'd surely die...

She spotted the length of cut rope fallen nearby, and she grabbed it, trying clumsily to tie it around her midsection. Silvie," she shouted to be heard. "Tie the other end of this around your waist. Then, I need you to take a deep breath, and no matter what, you hold it, okay?"

 

[Greeneye]

"SILVIE!" Greeneye yelled out, only able to watch as Silvertongue toppled from the railing. Immediately, he started to tug at his chest plate, struggling to get it off. He cursed when he saw Morgan strip off her jacket and dive into the water. Well, beggars can't be choosers. He rushed over to the railing, looking over to see Morgan holding Silvertongue.

He climbed onto the rails, and with a shout he flung himself off, and a spear thudded into his leg. Screaming the whole way, he ended up landing on a couple of shrews as he slammed into one of the canoes. He started to slash out at them with his hook, grabbing one of the shrews by the throat with his free paw and throttling it. "I'LL MASSACRE THE LOT OF YE BASTARDS!" He snarled, his eye shining with madness and fury.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Everything was moving too quickly for Silvertongue. One moment, he was being held hostage by the chieftain. In the next moment, the chieftain was staggering back, and Silvertongue stumbled forward, half jumping and half falling into the water, sinking once again. He heard the chaos of beasts shouting, but he couldn't even register it. Silvertongue felt himself get grabbed, and yanked out of the water. He expected to see Greeneye, and was surprised to see Morgan. Though shortly after, Greeneye came hurtling off the ship, landing among the shrews to do combat with them.

He was barely able to hear Morgan, something about a rope. He was so tired and dazed he couldn't bring himself to speak, just clumsily grabbing the rope with numb paws and holding onto it. He saw her tying it around her waist and then tried to tie it around his own, but his fingers felt too fat, and his paws trembled.

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan saw Silvertongue struggling, and she moved to tie the rope around him, fighting the numbness setting in. She yelped as something seared in her shoulder, and when she moved it, the pain persisted. She glanced over her shoulder and saw an arrow protruding from it. The pain was biting, piercing through the numbness of the cold. She recalled many admonitions from both her parents about how the worst thing you could do with an arrow wound was to remove the arrowhead, that you should leave it in until a medic could take a look.

Morgan reached back and tore the arrow free.

She gritted her teeth at the renewed pain and roughly finished tying the rope to Silvertongue. "Take a deep breath," she growled, "and don't you dare exhale." Then, following her own command, she dove.

Swimming, she discovered, was difficult. A lungful of air made one buoyant, inclined to float rather than sink, and sink was what she needed to do. She also discovered that the ship sat far deeper than she'd expected. She kept swimming down and down, and the oppressive darkness of its shadow only grew deeper before her. By the time it bottomed out, allowing her to see distant sunlight beyond, her lungs were burning and her shoulder was screaming at her. Every instinct in her body told her she needed to surface, to get air now.

She swam forward.

With every foot she moved, dragging Silvertongue behind her, the more she became convinced that it was a mistake. Her lungs felt like they were going to burst, the dark shadow of the ship felt like a cave collapsing above her, and her shoulder violently protested every stroke. Keelhauling, her mind suddenly recalled. She'd read about the brutal, barbaric practice, one reserved for the worst shipboard offenders. The guilty was tied with chains and hauled underneath the keel, almost always drowning in the darkness and isolation. Morgan had always imagined it to be a horrible death, and when she'd been called out at the start of this voyage, a part of her feared that fate.

She'd been wrong in her assessment, though. This was much, much worse than she could ever imagine.

Cold. Pain. The two, first invigorating her in their duality, keeping her moving, began to work in concert. Why fight it anymore? Give in. You tried, that's enough. No one will blame you. No one will miss you. Images flashed through her head - her parents, scenes of so many different countries, so much of the world she'd seen, and yet only a tiny share of it at the same time.

Silvie. She needed to get him back to Greeneye. She couldn't imagine the rat's anguish if Silvertongue were to die. She had to make sure they were back together. She surged forward, heartbeat pounding in her ears. Over halfway there, she could make it. She pushed past the visions of her waterlogged corpse being hauled from the drink, limp and broken like the fleas that had floated in the water after Finn's bath. She swam forward, kicking and clawing with all her might, her lungs ready to burst. She passed through shadow into sunlight -

She exhaled.

Freezing water slammed into her lungs a moment later. She choked, her body rebelling against the intrusion. No, not now, not like this! She struggled, kicking and clawing, reaching vainly for the sunlight. Images of her mothers flashed through her eyes - Eirene weeping for her, Bezine's stoicism cracking as tears gathered in her eyes. I'm sorry, Mum. At least she'd die in the line of duty, not hanged as a traitor. Maybe the navy would let them keep the flag that draped her casket. She could almost imagine the funeral; beautiful maroon draped over simple oak, sturdy like she'd been. Eirene and Bezine by the grave, Captain Ryalor officiating, and the crew all there, Silvie and Greeneye, Finn, Swiftie, Ralynn, and -

Vim. Morgan didn't know where the surge of strength came from; maybe it was the feral, animalistic part of her, the part that stubbornly refused to back down, to accept defeat and die. She surged and kicked, fighting back against the darkness creeping in on her, chasing the light with every last shred of strength in her -

She broke the surface, and with her last bit of strength, she constricted her chest muscles, expelling water from her lungs. She gasped, drawing in a ragged breath that burned on the way down, ice and salt searing her. She hacked and coughed, then pulled Silvertongue up with her, yanking on the rope until his head broke the water. She couldn't tell what state he was in; she was too busy looking up at the deck, croaking ineffectually. She couldn't get the air to shout for help, there was still too much water sloshing around in her lungs. The sounds of battle echoed over the ship, the chaos on the other side rendering the pair inaudible.

I'm going to die, Morgan realized. She'd done the impossible, hauled them both under a friggin' galleon, and now she was going to die, frozen, drifting in the water, unnoticed. I'm so sorry, Vim.

 

[Vihmastaja]

Things went to hell quickly, with Silvertongue going overboard, right into the cannibals’ paws.

Vihma swore, nocking an arrow to her bow and aiming for the leader of the group before they’d even drawn a knife on the helpless fox.

She focused on her breathing, letting the world around her fade out of her thought. The weasel was a good shot – or she thought she was – but it’d be a tough shot for anybeast to make, taking the shrew leader out from such a distance, on two different bobbing planes, with the wind and the wave to account for.

And it was cold. She could feel it in her paws, an ice that ran through her veins, further and further.

Breathe.

There wasn’t room for doubt. She couldn’t miss – wouldn’t miss.

But it would be so easy to. What then? What if she missed?

In the end, she didn’t have to make the shot. The shrew’s head threw back with the weight of the half-sword that suddenly materialized in his neck, and the beast toppled over, letting Silvie free - back into the water, but alive.

Vihma exhaled. For a moment she too was paralyzed by shock, until the Minister’s shouted order finally hit her ears.

With a sudden burst of focus, the weasel drew her bow back once more, sending an arrow downrange at the other shrew in the lead canoe. The shrew fell in an instant, the first of her few remaining arrows lodged in their skull.

Like a machine, without conscious thought, she drew her bow back once more, faster than the marines with their crossbows, letting another arrow fly and another shrew fall. Then a third.

Up in the forecastle, focused down on the shrews and their canoes below, she didn’t notice Morgan had gone overboard, didn’t see the two struggling to survive by the side of the ship.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Predictably, everything went to hell the moment he threw the dagger, but a rare fury lit up on the Captain’s face-diplomatic negotiations were supposed to be sacrosanct among all civilized beasts. Under the flag of parlay or what was clearly such, no hostage-taking or violence was supposed to occur, even he had never broken that in such a flagrant way. These beasts were savages, uncivilized, and borderline feral. Fine, if they wanted to act like animals, he would treat them like such. He had tried to be nice, tried to be diplomatic, but all these stupid barbarians seemed to understand was force!

“Mate Stowett!” Talinn roared furiously, blood streaming down from the superficial wound on his cheek. “Commence a full rolling broadside on that ‘town’ of theirs. Do not stop until you have leveled the entire damn place and blown apart anybeast stupid enough to remain on it! We will need it clear for our landing parties.”

Glancing down at the carnage unfolding below, it was complete carnage and chaos, although it was mostly settling down now. Most of the shrews had been pincushioned by the marine’s crossbow fire, laying dead in the water or slumped over in the canoes, the majority which were now slowly sinking pierced by arrows. Spears lay floating in the water, with a few embedded in the Hide, although of course that was only superficial damage. The shrew leader in the headdress, such as it were, was now dead, the wakizashi having done its job, slumped over in his slowly sinking canoe. He had half a mind to order somebeast to retrieve the dagger since it was worth so much, but there were other concerns.

Greeneye, who had to Talinn been something of a reluctant package deal to acquire Silvertongue, had thrown himself off the ship directly into one of the shrew’s canoes, taking a spear to the leg in the process, and was now fighting two of them in some kind of uncontrollable bloodlust, holding his own for now, but having his tail hit by a crossbow bolt, almost severing it, before Talinn could give the order to cease fire.

“Cease fire! Gods damn it, cease the crossbow fire!” He shouted to the marines, rubbing his head, watching Greeneye struggling to take on multiple opponents while wounded. “Somebeast get down there and help him! Stupid bastard!”

Talinn then furtively looked for Morgan, who had also thrown herself overboard to rescue him, and Silvertongue, but could not find them, nor did he have any clue where they were given that he had been distracted with commanding and Greeneye. They were supposed to have surfaced by now, but both the line and the two were gone. Most beasts could hold their breath for a minute, maybe two. Stowett was busy preparing the broadside, that left…Ralynn!

“Bosun Waverunner!” He shouted “Find out where in the ‘gates Silvertongue and Morgan are. You’d know better than I where that ferret might have taken him!”

“Sir!” called a crewbeast from the stern of the ship “Multiple canoes coming up from behind us! From the inlets!”

“Prepare to repel boarders!” shouted Talinn again, drawing his main blade, the beautiful Auldarnian steel katana with Southern Fyadoran inscriptions on it, then glancing over at Finnian, the poor foxkit sprawled on the deck. “Finnian! Get belowdecks and prepare the infirmary, or, at your peril, bring up your medic bag. We’re going to have wounded!”

Meanwhile, back on the canoe, the shrew who Greeneye had gripped with hook struggled to break free, drawing a knife from his side and attempting to stab it into Greeneye’s already wounded leg. The other shrew, the one beneath him, at the same time tried to push him off him over into the freezing water.

@Ralynn Waverunner @Gyles @Vihmastaja @Greeneye @Silvertongue Songfox @Morgan Liu @FinnianBrightfur @Tobin Hestra @SwifttailTheFox

 

[Ralynn Waverunner]

Ralynn's paws grip the worn rail as she watches the shrews' increasingly animated gestures. Her ears, usually upright and alert, now flatten against her head as memories flood her mind unbidden. As a kit, huddled by the hearth fire in the family group of her youth she heard tales of the first Vulpine ships that appeared on their horizon—stories of villages burning, of woodlanders dragged away in chains, of merciless vermin who took whatever they wanted with steel and flame.

"Beasts o' death," her grandfather had called them, his voice quavering with age and remembered terror. "They came withoot wairnin', speaking ain tongues we couldnae unnerstan', demandin' things we wouldnae give."

Now she stands on the deck of an Imperial vessel, watching history mirror itself in reverse—they are the strangers in strange ships, trying to communicate with beasts who speak a language they cannot comprehend. The irony isn't lost on her.

Her gaze shifts to Silvertongue as he finishes his dance, his natural grace making even this forced performance seem elegant. The shrews' reaction—pointing spears and gesturing—makes her blood run cold. Morgan's attempts at translation have been increasingly desperate, and Ralynn can see the cracks in the ferret's façade. Whatever is happening, it isn't working.

"Prepare fer tha worst," she mutters to the nearby crewbeasts, but her mind is churning with doubt.

She remembers the injured stoat she tended in her youth—how his eyes, though pained, held no malice. How his gratitude knew no species boundaries. That meeting changed everything she thought she knew about "vermin." Now she serves alongside rats and foxes, ferrets and weasels—beasts she once feared but now trusts with her life.

The rabbit's paw moves unconsciously to touch the small wooden medallion hidden beneath her shirt, carved by that stoat before he continued his journey. Perhaps, she thinks, watching the shrews' agitated movements, if oor villages had met Imperial ships with caution instead o' fear, wi' diplomacy instead o' judgin' 'em...

Her philosophical musings shatter as Silvertongue pitches forward, a wild gust sending him plummeting from the rail into the frigid waters below.

"BEAST OVERBOARD!" she bellows, her voice carrying clear across the deck as she leaps into action, grabbing a coil of rope from a nearby cleat.

Before she can throw the line, Morgan's already diving into the water after him. Ralynn curses as the shrews haul Silvertongue aboard their canoe, holding a blade to his throat. Moments later, Talinn's wakizashi finds the shrew leader's neck, spraying crimson across the dugout's weathered wood.

"Marines! KEEP'EM AWAY FROM THA BOAT!" she shouts, directing the crossbow beasts to provide cover fire as chaos erupts across the water.

The ship becomes a beehive of furious activity—marines firing, shrews dying, Greeneye launching himself into a canoe with a battle cry that sends chills up Ralynn's spine. Blood and seawater spray in equal measure as the rat tears into the shrews, taking wounds yet fighting on.

The crossbow kicks against her shoulder, the bolt flying true. It strikes its target, and Ralynn feels something shift inside her—a darkness she hadn't known was there, a readiness to kill to protect her crew that surprises her with its intensity.

As she reloads her weapon, guilt churns in her gut. Not guilt for the shrew she just killed, but for the naive daydream that had distracted her moments before the attack. Peace was never an option here. Some differences can't be bridged with words or gestures.

Her grandfather's stories weren't just tales to frighten kits—they were warnings. And now she understands why.

"Stand fast!" she calls to the nearby crewbeasts, a new coldness in her voice. "Don't let any of 'em reach the deck!"

The rabbit who once tended an injured stoat disappears beneath the hardened Imperial sailor, her blade ready in one paw, crossbow in the other. Today, she learns what it truly means to serve the Imperium.

"CEASE FIRE!" Talinn roars, and Ralynn echoes his command, seeing Greeneye caught in the crossfire.

"Hold yer fire, ye bleedin' fools!" she bellows, her brogue thick with tension. "We've go' oor ain doon there!"

Talinn's voice cuts through the chaos. "Bosun Waverunner! Find out where in the 'gates Silvertongue and Morgan are. You'd know better than I where that ferret might have taken him!"

Ralynn's eyes dart frantically across the water, searching for any sign of them. There's nothing by the canoes, nothing in the open water—where could they...

A cold realization dawns on her. "Sweet merciful Spring," she whispers, rushing to the port side of the ship. "She's gain oonder! Tha mad wee lass is tryin' tae swim beneath tha keel!"

Without hesitation, Ralynn strips off her heavy jacket, vaulting over the rail and landing on a lower deck closer to the waterline. She leans far over, scanning the water's surface on the Hidden side away from the shrews' village.

There! Two heads breaking the surface, one ferret, one fox—both clearly struggling to stay afloat. Morgan's gasping weakly, unable to call for help, one arm hanging limp and bloodied.

"ROPE! NOW!" Ralynn shouts upward, catching a line thrown by a crewbeast. With practiced precision, she flings it outward, watching it land near the struggling pair. "GRAB HOLD!"

When neither makes a move for the rope, Ralynn curses and leaps, hitting the water with a clean dive that cuts through the freezing depths like a knife. There's no calculation in her movement, no weighing of her life against theirs—only the instinctive certainty that she cannot watch her crewmates fall while she stands by. The cold steals her breath, but she powers forward with strong, sure strokes, reaching Morgan and Silvertongue in seconds.

"I've got ye," she gasps, looping an arm around Morgan's torso, careful to avoid the arrow wound. "Hang tight tae Silvie, lass. Dinnae let go."

With her free arm, Ralynn strokes back toward the Hide, towing the pair toward the dangling rope. Every yard feels like a mile, the freezing water sapping her strength with each passing second. Her legs kick powerfully, fighting the current that threatens to dash them against the hull.

"Dinnae ye die on me," she growls at Morgan, whose eyelids are fluttering dangerously. "Tha's an order, ye hear? Finish what ye started."

Behind them, canoes full of shrews round the stern of the Golden Hide, arrows and spears at the ready. Ralynn sees them and kicks harder, determination burning in her eyes.

Not today, she thinks fiercely. Not my crew.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Despite knowing so little about why they were here, Finn knew two things. For one, they held a knife to Silvie, unprovoked. For two, this was his crew. They took him in, and took care of them. Anyone outside of that, especially anyone expressing hostility, was an other.

Finn got up on his feet, full of blood and vinegar now that the fighting was underway. It was his first combat, and he was determined to make use of himself. He joined the crew as they let out a battle cry, temporarily forgetting his mates in peril in the waters. For a little kit, he suddenly had a pint sized ferocious nature that even caught him off guard.

The captain, who he'd grown to understand as a deeply complex man, would have frightened the daylights out of him now -- if he weren't so caught up in the heat of battle. His heart nearly burst out of his chest with pride as he received his orders, and already knew exactly what to do. He snapped a smart salute, "Aye sir, below deck it is! Send us the wounded. Godspeed sir!"

[ Thread forked to the infirmary. ]

 

[Morgan Liu]

The rabbit diving into the water, framed against the sun, briefly looked to Morgan's bleary eyes like one of the doves they called 'angels' that beasts said lived in the heavens. When she broke the water and swam to grab the floundering pair, the bosun was still the sweetest sight Morgan had ever seen. Morgan weakly managed to move her arms, one to loop around Ralynn's waist and chain them together, the other to grab onto Silvie, both to haul him along and keep his head above water.

She could feel water in her lungs still, and she coughed, trying to expel it. In doing so, she felt a pop, and suddenly breathing became far harder; her right lung felt painful, and whenever she tried to breath, she felt the water logging it increase. She coughed again, trying to expel the intrusion, and this time a splash of red ran into the water. Oh 'Gates. She'd gotten lucky; the arrow had only nicked her lung, not punctured it outright. If it had done so, she'd have surely drowned beneath the ship. After all that stress, though, and the force upon it, the luck that had been preserving her finally ran out. She clung to Ralynn and Silvie, praying that she could hold out long enough to get them all back on the ship.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Once again Silvertongue's world was a blur. Time seemed to be standing still and blazing past him in the same instance. He was dragged underwater a second time, and his lungs seemed to scream out for air. It was cold, and dark. He looked around blearily in the water, and for a moment he swore that he saw something. He squinted, and to his horror he saw eyes staring back at him. Dozens of them. The spirits of drowned beasts, their clothes and flesh rotting away, seemed to swarm around him.

"I've perished..." Silvertongue thought to himself. "This is all in my head, and I'm slowly sinking to the bottom..."

And yet, he wasn't. Morgan was still grasping the rope tied around him, and she yanked him to the surface. He gasped and coughed, gagging on seawater, and he struggled to maintain his balance, his head spinning. It took him all his effort to keep from sinking again, and it the last thing he saw before passing out was Ralynn diving into the water....

 

[Greeneye]

Greeneye grunted in pain as he felt a crossbow folt thud into his thick tail. With his hook imbedded into the shrews's shoulder, he grimaced as the knife made contact with his leg. He snarled and tossed that one into the icy waters, raising his prosthetic footpaw and slamming it down repeatedly on the chest of the shrew underneath him. Ripping the knife from his leg, he let out a blood-curdling shout and pounced on a shrew in front of him, holding him down and stabbing his neck and chest repeatedly with the knife, before looking up and throwing it at another one of the shrews who was about to strike him, the knife thudding into the beasts eye and sending him down.

Greeneye seemed more than capable of holding his own, but the fact of the matter was that he was badly outnumbered, and he was collecting wounds like they were limited edition stamps. His chest was heaving, and he stood up, growling and running forward, thrusting his hook into the stomach of yet another shrew and rending his flesh apart.

 

[Captain Gyles F. Stowett]

Gyles beat a hasty dash below, where the gun crews already awaited direction. He scanned the semi-darkness for the Master at Arms. Verrian. Where was he?

It didn't matter. No time for it to matter. His paw fell to his rapier hilt.
Gyles froze. Outside, the waters churned with blood and danced with crossbow bolts. Shrieks and howls of the fighting and dying stole away on the frigid breeze, muffled by hull planking and the deafening pressure in the young stoat officer's ears.
He looked down at the paw on his sword handle. There it was again: the shaking. His shuddering paw slowly morphed into a foreign object, disembodied in feeling even as it remained at his side. Jags. I... I need a drink.

Gyles' throat was a desert. He swallowed as he lifted his head in slow-motion to look across the room. The crew assessed him, sharing a few nervous glances toward the open gunports, where beams of light sliced the dust suspended in the thick air of the upper of the Golden Hide's two gun decks - as if for an escape route. Below, eyes peeped up around the lower gundeck bannister, waiting.
He felt a cold rush again. The staggers and jags were what happened to the old winesot sailors, the ones who fidgeted and fought devils in their sleep when they couldn't find a bottle to nurse themselves to oblivion. He became acutely aware the crew were looking at him like he was one of those. A base drunk - or, as the sailors called them, an old soak.

Steel hissed as it sprang from the scabbard at his side. Not today.
"What's this, then!" he shouted, picking out one of the Armorer's Mates, a fox named Tuaranac, from the assembly. "A bunch o' badgermum biddies babblin' at a bridge party? Stand to and recieve orders!" He was the officer they knew again - had to be. At least until those cannons fired. The crew startled to attention, as if recognizing a stranger come out of the fog; knuckles swung quickly up to eyebrows in the universal seabeast's salute. "Afraid the demmed flesh-eatin' savages've decided to have us for tea. Roll out the guns, stow quoins for maximum range! Sights on those huts."
Tuaranac jumped in, then, laying about with a length of wet tackle cord. "Youse 'eared the offiser. Lively!"

They were off. Bare paws scrambled across rough deck timbers, followed by the low, heavy rumble of twoscore-odd thirty-two-pounders wheeled on their trucks to hard-stops, then being secured into place with tackles. As shot and powder cartridge were sent home with ramrods and firing locks were primed, Gyles dared a glance down at his sword paw. A few tell-tale tremors betrayed how much he yearned to reach in his coat pocket for a flask of 1723 that was now no longer there. He raised the blade over his head. "Three broadsides! Prepare to give fire!"

Tuaranac and another senior seabeast rushed down the line of gunners. "Prepare to fire!"

All eyes were on Gyles Stowett now, as if to say, Ready. He clenched his teeth in anticipation and willed his paw to move. The rapier swished. "Open fire!" He never was ready for what came next.

SHBOOM! The din of battle on the Golden Hide was broken by a terrific roar, as if a volcano had erupted beneath them. A belch of fire shook from each cannon below the rail and the great ship rocked, as if stunned at its own power. Then came the wall of smoke, rolling with the sound wave across the narrow bay. Then more fire, then more smoke, fire, smoke, fire, smoke, to the crack and blast of the big guns. Smoke blew back through the gun deck, forcing the crew to rely on little more than light and shadow for bearings. Taking no more than a moment's recovery and with ears ringing, he nodded to Tuaranac to follow him and rushed topside.

@Duke Talinn Ryalor @Ralynn Waverunner @Morgan Liu @Silvertongue Songfox @Greeneye @Vihmastaja @SwifttailTheFox @FinnianBrightfur

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

The first cannon fired, and the engine room lurched.

Swifttail flinched as the blast echoed through the ship like a lightning strike in a steel drum. The pressure gauge to his left jittered, then steadied. But not for long. Another cannon roared. Then another.

Then came the barrage.

The Golden Hide shook under a wave of thunderous recoil. Pipes rattled in their brackets. Tools clattered from wall hooks. The deck plates groaned beneath their paws as vibrations rippled through the frame.

A loud pop-SSHHHT! burst from one of the manifold valves, and a hiss of steam jetted into the air with a banshee screech.

“Hells’ teeth!” Rugg shouted, nearly smacking his head against a pipe. “They’re firin’ the whole damn broadside!”

“Was that a pipe?! Are we breached?! Is it ruptured?!” Kip yelped, ducking under a bench, eyes darting to the pressure lines.

“Nothin’s breached, just popped a safety!” Rugg barked back, already moving. “I got it!”

The badger planted a heavy paw on a handwheel and twisted hard. The hissing cut off with a metallic groan, steam trailing upward like a sigh of protest from the old engine.

Swifttail stood stiff at the door, fur bristling. The sound of cannonfire rolled overhead in steady, punishing rhythm. It felt like the sky was collapsing. Each boom rattled his chest like a war drum.

“That's no warning shot,” he muttered. “They’re not holdin’ back.”

Verrin, who had been stone-still until now, snarled under his breath.
“Damn it all,” he hissed, pushing away from the weapons locker. His eyes flicked toward the ceiling, then the bulkhead door. “I should be up there.”

He grabbed one of the wall-strapped sidearms without hesitation and slung it across his belt.

“If Tuaranac can’t hold the line, we’ll be needing more than powder.”

Without another word, he slipped out the door and was gone.

The engine room suddenly felt tighter. Hotter. The thrum of the machinery pressed in like a heartbeat in Swifttail’s ears.

Swifttail took a slow breath.

“We’re cut off down here,” he said, quieter now. “Do we wait... or do we get armed n' ready?”

Rugg eyed him coldly, hands still on the pressure valves.

“Lock the door an’ wait for orders ter stoke the fire an’ flee, or fight fer yore life! If the buggers come knockin’, give ‘em blood an’ vinegar!”

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue was suddenly rattled back into consciousness by the sound of raucous thunder. A storm? He looked up blearily, but there was no rain, and certainly no storm clouds. He saw heavy smoke rising from the other side of the Hide. A fire? He couldn't understand what was happening.

"M-Morgan..." His teeth chattered as he spoke. "I-I'm sorry... you're going to b-be cold again b-because of m-me... A-and you too, Ms. Waverunner." His head dipped a bit. "I-I shouldn't have d-done something s-so foolish..."

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan couldn't speak. She could barely breathe. Every time she did, more water filled into her lung, and she could feel it starting to overflow into her other lung as well. She was drowning with her head above water. As Silvertongue apologized for her, she squeezed where she had her grip around his arm, wishing she could communicate what she was feeling - all of the regret, the missed opportunities, the chance she'd had to be a better beast now rescinded all too quickly. She couldn't even have her meaningful last words, to tell Vihma that it wasn't her fault, that Morgan had gotten herself into this mess, and she alone was responsible for her fate.

Morgan squeezed Silvertongue's arm, and then her body began violently coughing, expelling seawater and blood as it made a last attempt to try to drain itself of the liquid that still flowed into its lungs.

 

[Greeneye]

Meanwhile, Greeneye was thrown off his feet on the other side of the Hide as cannonballs soared over his head. "What in der blue blazes?!" He exclaimed in shock. He didn't have too much time to gawk however, as the shrews were upon him, one of them leaping on top of him, intending to plunge a knife into his chest. Greeneye threw up his paw, and the knife stabbed right through it, but he had managed to block it.

"Agh- Bastard!" He kicked the shrew off of him, and he wrenched the knife out of his paw. He looked towards the water. There was no sign of Silvertongue or Morgan. He just had to hope he had distracted the shrews long enough for them to escape. He flipped onto his stomach and pulled himself off of the canoe, letting his body slip into the icy depths. His wounds burned as salt water seeped into them, and the water around him became red. He grimaced, and started to dogpaddle his way back to the ship. "HEY!" He shouted, trying to be heard over cannon fire. "HEY! THROW ME A ROPE!" He waved his arm, trying to get someone's attention.