Expedition The Urk Expedition: Aggressive Negotiations

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

The Urk Expedition: Aggressive Negotiations​

Talinn had, like many of the crew, largely stayed inside his cabin aside from his duties as Captain as the Hide left the more temperate waters of Vulpinsula and made its way into the far colder ones surrounding Urk. On most vessels, the chill would have seeped in anyway, but he had authorized the careful use of the limited coal supplies aboard to keep the interior of the ship comparatively warm via its steam pipes. In war, such a luxury would not be not be permitted due to the need to use it for enhanced maneuvering and speed, but for this journey morale was a concern and perhaps because he was growing a little soft in his old age. The shrews, by all accounts, were numerous and vicious, and he was unsure if he could negotiate with them peacefully.

When land was sighted, called down from the unfortunate beast covered in layers in the crow’s nest, Talinn dressed himself in his winter clothing, left the comfort of his cabin, and stepped into the biting and chill wind.

‘Gates, it’s as cold as Northern Fyador the one time Alexei took me there. How beasts survive this year after year...

He marched towards the quarterdeck on the stern of the ship, up near to where the helmsbeast was, and took out his looking glass, surveying the island. Snow, rock, little inlets and the occasional small grouping of pines. A seemingly desolate place at first glance with no civilization to speak of. But he knew better.

Directing the helmsbeast to continue on a north-easterly course around the island, he eventually spotted what he was looking for. A few small plumes of smoke on the horizon. That was it. Finding the nearest crewbeast, he called for the lieutenant of the Hide’s marine complement, Lieutenant Tultow. He and the young stoat talked for some time before the junior officer hurried off and soon the full complement of the battle-hardened soldiers were lining up alongside the starboard side of the ship, crossbows being loaded and then held at the ready.

As all of this was occurring, a small, but still respectable, settlement alongside what passed for a river came into view for most of the ship, comprised of what appeared to be a mismatched assortment of stone and wood longhouses, some covered with turf, and smaller tents and what appeared to be some kind of round structures made out of snow. This vaguely matched the accounts of the lone survivor in the records, although he had mentioned that this was just one of more than a dozen or so across Urk. The correct one would have a totem pole with some large canine figure at the top...and...there it was! A rare smile flitted across his face. The day was off to a good start.

As he continued observing the settlement, it seemed their presence had been noticed, with a surprising number of shrews pouring out from the various structures in the village, all grabbing various tools, implements, and weapons, and seeming to form into groups. A small group of shrews, approximately twelve, entered six canoes and then began to paddle their way towards the Hide.

Talinn ordered the Hide to stop some fair distance away from the village, one of its sides facing it, and for the anchor to be dropped to stabilize the ship. Moving over to the starboard side, he awaited the arrival of what seemed to be the greeting party, such as it were, and took out a scroll from his jacket that, purportedly, stated in their language that they were there to offer gifts, trade, and simply look around for a little bit, and a very brief kind of dictionary, based on what could be reconstructed from the account of the lone survivor, then shook his head.

I have no idea how to speak anything other than Vulpinsulan or Fyadoran, I do not even know how to pronounce this. Ideally, we could simply...mostly…peacefully land, swipe the idol, and leave, but…

He scratched his head, then remembered looking through Seabeast Morgan’s file after the incident with her that she was considered something of an expert, at least, what passed for one on the Hide with languages. He gave instructions for her to join him.

When she arrived, he quickly explained the situation to her, handing the scroll over to her.

“Seabeast Morgan! I trust you are doing well. See those shrews coming up to us in their little canoes? You are the closest we have to a translator. This scroll contains, such as it were, what we have figured out of their language, and some lines to indicate that we come in peace. Do you think you are up to the task?”

As if to accentuate his point, the shrews in their canoes stopped a little way away from the Hide, warily eyeing the marines and the crewbeasts who had come out to look at them. One, wearing some kind of headdress, shouted up in a strange language.

“Kikkuuvit amma qanuimmat nunattinnuaqsimavit? Uqallakauqturlutit utirpaglutilluunniit qaitillutit!*”
*Who are you and why have you come to our sacred land? Speak quickly or go back from whence you came! (Language Skill Required: Very High).

@Morgan Liu @Vihmastaja @Gyles @Ralynn Waverunner @FinnianBrightfur

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan was nervous as she approached the captain, keeping her paws in her pockets. The weather up here was cold, bitter enough to remind her of Blackbone Isle. She shivered as she recalled the place, its biting winds and lethal winters. She tried not to remember it very often; there weren't many good memories to be had of it. She'd considered herself lucky when Bezine and Morgan, passing through on their way to their new home, had happened to find her. For all the grief she gave them, Morgan was sure that they'd saved her life when they took her with them.

She accepted the scroll, glancing between it and the approaching shrews as her eyes widened. 'Gates, what was this language? It reminded her a bit of Reiettan, but nothing of that language seemed to carry over here. "Give me a minute," she muttered, scanning it hurriedly. Double vowels? 'Gates, was that supposed to indicate a different sound or an elongated duration? Who in the 'Gates had compiled this? And what about the double consonants? Were those supposed to be ending sounds, starting sounds, or both? What sort of fool put this together without a phonemic reference key? For the first time, Morgan was beginning to appreciate the language education, informal though it might be, that she'd gotten from her mothers.

Her eyes widened as the shrew spoke rapidly, far too quickly for her to piece together what he'd said. 'Gates, if she'd had a few days to study the scroll, maybe piece out a few words, she might have stood a chance. She hurriedly scanned the phrase given, her mind churning. Seilinaktumik tikippugut... We come in peace... Wait, seilinak... Selena? Serene? 'Gates, if I had more time!

There was nothing for it but to take her best shot at the pronunciation. She muddled through it as best she could, though she had to pause between syllables more than she'd like. "Seilinak tumik tikip pugut," she began. "Katiqati qarumavugut guutigi jarnik. Guutimut aullaq titaulauqtigut."

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

The lead Shrew, perhaps the chieftain as it were, looked confused at first, then laughed, along with the other shrews. This continued for some time before he looked back at Morgan, looking at her incredulously and with some disbelief.

"'gaatmut aullaqtigumavigit? kisunik aallanik aturiaqaqpakpiuk? inuunasutuinnasuuq ammalu akuniunngittuq. tunisiquguviuk atiliuqsimajumik. ammalu qatsiinnakuluit kanataup silataanimiut akiliigumattiaqtut.'"

@Morgan Liu

 

[Morgan Liu]

Oh 'Gates. I'm dead. This has to be his punishment for me. Morgan felt her heart sink as the shrew continued, and this time there was nothing for her to latch onto - no linguistic similitudes she could seize onto in order to figure her way out. "Sir," she murmured out of the corner of her mouth, "please tell me you brought a gift to offer as tribute."

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail shifted in his perch, tucking his tail tighter around himself as the Hide cut through the icy waters of Urk. The cold wasn’t a bother—not to him, anyway. He had grown up in harsher temperatures than this, where the wind howled through the sparse trees, and ice coated everything like a second skin. No, the real discomfort was the gnawing feeling in his gut as he stared out over the horizon.

He had volunteered for crow’s nest duty that morning, an act of what could generously be called initiative—or, perhaps more truthfully, a lapse in judgment. It wasn’t in his nature to pander to authority, but something about Talinn had made him raise his paw at roll call. He wasn’t some common officer, after all. He was the Minister of Innovation. Every beast had their own opinions, whispered or otherwise, about the infamous old fox, but Swifttail didn’t waste his time with politics. Nobles could bicker over their schemes all they wanted—he had no interest in it. What he did care about, though, was getting noticed. Making himself useful. Proving he was more than just another pair of paws aboard the Hide.

And now here he was, perched high above the deck, relatively comfortable in his well-insulated nest of blankets and tarps—until his sharp eyes spotted what he had been dreading.

"Land-ho!"

The words left his mouth like a curse, carrying across the ship and setting things into motion. Swifttail exhaled sharply, watching his breath curl away in the frigid air. He knew what this meant. Landfall was supposed to be the beginning of the real mission, and the real mission meant possible battle. A fight with an unpredictable enemy on unfamiliar ground if the peace talks went poorly.

The moment he spotted movement along the shore, his fears were confirmed. From his vantage point, he could see the village, the mismatched longhouses and crude structures of stone and snow—but more importantly, he saw them. Shrews. Dozens. No, hundreds. Pouring from their homes, grabbing weapons, forming into tight ranks.

By the time a dozen of them pushed off in their little canoes, making straight for the Hide, Swifttail was already halfway down the rigging. His paws found their marks with ease, his descent swift and sure. He landed on deck just in time to watch Talinn stride toward the rail, the ship settling into position as the shrew delegation neared. He could hear the rustling of fellow crewbeasts gathering hurriedly, see the flicker of uncertainty in some of the newer recruits’ faces.

Then came the barked challenge from the shrews’ leader, words sharp and foreign. Swifttail didn’t know their language, but he knew a threat when he heard one. He stood at the edge of the gathering crew, arms crossed, tail twitching slightly as he waited to see what would happen next. He hoped that Morgan was able to pull off the seemingly impossible task of actually communicating in this strange tongue and avoid any blushed.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn glanced at Morgan, thinking for a moment. Ah, yes, it was typical among these uncivilized tribes to want some kind of gift in exchange for access to their lands. They had plenty of such things that should impress these savages, and if that would prevent a battle at least initially, a few trinkets would not cost the Imperium that much all things considered.

“Very well, Morgan, did he specify what kind of tribute that he wanted?”

@Morgan Liu

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan's mind raced, trying to parse the mess that she'd heard for anything even resembling a cognate. She came up with nothing. "Well, sir," she stated carefully, "they expressed an admiration of your hat. They seem to find it very fancy, sir." It seemed to be as safe a bet as she could make; the shrews certainly didn't seem to have a need for coats like what the captain wore, and the chief's headgear was very ostentatious. Maybe their own 'chief' giving them his hat would be taken as a sign of profound respect.

 

[Ralynn Waverunner]

Ralynn stands rigid at the fo’c’s’le, her breath forming misty clouds that disappear into the biting air. The rabbit's long ears twitch with nervous energy beneath the thick woolen cap she's pulled down to protect them from the cold. Her paws grip the weathered wood as she leans forward, studying the approaching shrews with a mixture of fascination and apprehension.

Sae this is wha’ lies beyond tha horizon, she thinks, watching the small canoes slice through the choppy water with surprising precision. The shrews themselves are unlike any beasts she's encountered—compact and fierce, their movements coordinated with practiced efficiency. Their strange garments of fur and what appears to be fish skin shimmer with beads and small shells that catch the weak northern light.

The wind shifts, carrying the scent of wood smoke tinged with something unfamiliar, sharp and pungent—seal oil perhaps, or some other fat they burn for warmth. It's so different from the coal smoke that permeates the Golden Hide's interior.

When the lead shrew barks out his harsh, staccato language, Ralynn's ears flatten instinctively. She signals subtly to @Gyles and @Greeneye, directing them with quick paw gestures toward the weapons locker just aft of the the mast, hoping they get the message.

"Keep calm but ready," she whispers to them as they sidle past. "Minister Ryalor’ll handle this Ah imagine, bu’ we should be prepared."

Her gaze drifts to Morgan with newfound respect—the ferret is actually attempting to communicate with these strange creatures. The sounds coming from Morgan's mouth seem impossible to replicate, full of guttural stops and elongated vowels that remind Ralynn of the creaking of ice against a hull.

Well. Maire than meets tha eyes, sure, an’ grateful Ah am she is, Ralynn thinks, remembering the lashes she'd administered not long ago. She winces internally slightly at the memory.

The exchange continues, and Ralynn inches closer, one paw unconsciously moving to rest on the hilt of the saber at her belt. She notices Talinn's expression—controlled but concerned—and Morgan's growing desperation. Something isn't going well.

The rabbit's mind flashes back to her mother's words about difficult trades at market: "Sometimes, Emily, tha most valuble currency idn't what's ain yor purse, bu’ wha’ ye're willin’ tae part with tha’ others can't easily get." Not bad advice, though her mother might be out of her depth here.

Her eyes scan the ship, cataloging their resources, calculating distances to shelter if projectiles start flying. The valuable steam pipes running along the rails would be vulnerable in a fight—a well-placed stone could rupture one, releasing scalding steam onto the deck. She makes another subtle signal to position two more crewbeasts near the emergency valves.

As Morgan mentions something about the Minister's hat being admired, Ralynn suppresses a grimace. If negotiations have devolved to trading clothing, they're either going very well or very poorly. In her limited experience with foreign traders at port, she's learned that sometimes a genuine smile and demonstration of good faith can bridge more gaps than faltering words.

She takes a half step forward, wondering if she should offer something of her own—the polished bone bracelet from her hometown, perhaps—but stops herself. The chain of command exists for a reason, and her interference could make things worse. For now, she'll watch, wait, and ensure the Golden Hide is ready for whatever comes next.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn had been Morgan's little shadow. After being discovered as a stowaway, the foxkit determined to do his very best to earn his place on the ship. Any chance he got, he'd be asking questions, and pestering people to learn whatever he could. However, this seemed like an exceedingly poor time to stick out. Now was the time to be unobtrusive. Quiet as a mouse, he drew up next to Morgan, and watched the negotiations taking place with great curiosity.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

@Morgan Liu

Talinn put one paw up to his chin and scratched it. His hat? A strange custom, but, such was the world in which the Imperium found itself in. He rather liked his hat, it had cost more than a pretty gilder and signified his rank as Duke, but he supposed he could always use the replacements he had stored back at home. And, if it meant getting the idol without any of the crewbeasts dying...well, he wasn’t that vain. Usually. Nodding at Morgan, he took it off, went to the edge of the railing, and tossed it down towards the chieftan. It was a relatively good throw for Talinn, landing near enough to the supposed leader so he could grasp it out of the air. The shrew glanced down at it once he caught it with his paws, feeling it over, a confused expression on his face for a moment, before he placed it down next to him in the canoe, and yelled back up, raising his spear in the air as he did so.

“kisuuniaqpali? taanna naammanngillariktuq guutittinnut! inuujariaqaqpugut, unuqtunit, pinnginnguarluta! pinnguaqatigivitiguut? piviqaqtinniaqpattigit atausirmik pinirmik tammanngillutit, pijumaniaqpugut anilutit!”*

*If you had a high enough language skill to understand, it would translate to this: What the hell is this? This is entirely unsuitable for our God! We require living beasts, multiple, as sacrifices! Are you toying with us? We will give you one more chance to get things right or we will demand that you leave!

Talinn glanced back to Morgan, looking at her questioningly.

"He did not seem too happy with just the one. Perhaps he requires more hats?"

 

[Greeneye]

Greeneye saw from the corner of his eye Ralynn's signal, and didn't need to be told twice. He sauntered over to the weapons locker, itching to retrieve his cutlass which had been confiscated from him. He didn't seem to be fazed by the cold, his ear twitching and his breath fogging the air. He watched the whole situation with the calmness of a beast who has been in tense situations before. Though, he couldn't help but to fix his gaze onto Silvertongue.

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan could feel the inner layers of her fur become damp with sweat as the hat did not seem well-received. Well, she'd tried. A part of her wondered if she should have just admitted that she couldn't understand the language from the start. Then again, what would that have done? No one else on the ship could understand it either.

"Upon closer examination, sir," she stated, trying to calm herself and maintain the story, "he believes that the quality of the hat is inferior to its design. He is upset and demanding to see your hatter, sir. He says that to make a hat of such poor quality is an offense that must be punished. If I may, sir? Perhaps there might be a higher quality hat on board that we can offer instead?"

She desperately prayed that whoever the captain's hatter was, he was safely a continent away. A bit of movement at her side caught her attention, and she noticed Finn had snuck up beside her. The tension almost getting too much for her, she put one arm around his shoulders, hugging him to her side. A rising swell of dread in her chest told her that things were about to go horribly wrong, and it was all her fault.

Mother was right. I really am just a screw-up.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue was standing dutifully by Talinn's side, tome opened in gloved paws. His fingers trembled as he held a charcoal pencil, his teeth chattering as he attempted to record the conversation as accurately as possible.

"I-I think I'd prefer to be down w-with Vulpuz himself th-than spend another minute in this weather." He commented to Talinn, but mainly to himself.

He faltered a bit watching Talinn throw his hat overboard. and then he paled as both he and Morgan suggested a different hat. As far as he was concerned, he was the only other beast onboard who had one. "C-Captain... surely you aren't going to make me toss my h-hat overboard. I-I can't possibly do that- M-my father, Saints bless his eternal rest, gave it to me."

He swallowed a bit. He was not fond of speaking out against Talinn, but he was not too thrilled with the idea of sacrificing his hat to the shrews.

@Duke Talinn Ryalor

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn scratched his now bare head as he closed his eyes in frustration. Here he was trying to be nice and diplomatic since Dusk kept telling him he had to be more cultured and civilized every single time they ate together in some way, shape, or form, and not only was a perfectly good hat he liked gone, the damn beast was telling him he was not happy about its quality? By rights he should just order his marines and crewbeasts to open fire with their crossbows on the shrews in the canoes, and start firing broadsides at the village to prepare it for a landing. But then that would just prove her right and he was loathe to let her win that particular battle of their marriage. Diplomacy, Talinn, give it another shot.

Silvertongue, it seemed, already seemed to guess what he was going to order, and Talinn just shook his head before he spoke authoratively.

“Silvertongue! I understand it is an important keepsake from your father, but you can always get another hat, and the lives of crewbeasts and indeed perhaps these shrews are at stake! We were just fortunate enough to have Morgan here be skilled enough in the linguistic arts to avoid bloodshed! We’ll all have to make some sacrifices. Perhaps, once we are on land, they might find something else of yours that they would like and you can barter back for it. But...mhmmm….”

Talinn’s eyes furrowed in thought.

“It does not seem we have any idea of knowing what, exactly, they would consider high quality. Therefore, we will have to collect as many hats as we can, and throw them down in the hope some of them meet the standards they have. Mate Stowett!”

Talinn called his first officer to his side.

“Find every hat you can on the ship and bring them here! Once we have assembled them we will keep giving them to the shrews until they find one or multiple ones that they like!”

@Ralynn Waverunner @Silvertongue Songfox @Gyles @FinnianBrightfur @Morgan Liu @Vihmastaja

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail stood at the edge of the tense standoff, his arms folded across his chest, ears tipped slightly back as he watched the exchange unfold. Negotiations—if they could even be called that—were more pantomime than conversation, with Morgan doing her best to maintain composure and the diminutive shrew chieftain issuing sharp, clipped bursts of speech in a language no one aboard truly understood.

The tribe was unlike any he’d seen before—pigmy shrews, wild-eyed and close-knit, their gestures fast and difficult to parse, like wind-blown leaves caught in a sudden storm. They were uncontacted, or nearly so, and every moment spent here was a gamble.

The chieftain had accepted the ceremonial hat with an unreadable expression, only to fling it aside moments later with a terse grunt. It was the opinion of the negotiation team that maybe it wasn’t “bespoke” enough for his tastes, but the guess felt... wrong.

Swifttail frowned.

He had spent nearly twenty winters in the frozen seaside village of Iskaryut, a lonely outpost perched on the edge of the polar sea. Trade ships were rare visitors there, braving the storm-thick waters and drifting ice to barter for the few goods the locals could scrounge or craft themselves, and generally only in emergency situations.When they came, they didn’t bring trinkets. No hats, no finery. They brought grain. Dried fruits. Salt. Tar. Planks of hardwood and barrels of iron nails. Things a beast needed to survive.

And the longer he watched this tribe, the more a quiet unease scratched at the back of his thoughts.

Stepping forward, Swifttail raised his voice—not loud, but enough to carry.

“If I may offer an opinion…”

Swifttail cleared his throat, pressing on despite the weight of so many eyes.

“W…when I lived in Iskaryut,” he began, voice hesitant but clear, “the traders who came b-by… they didn’t bring hats. They brought grain, wood… th-things we couldn’t grow or find ourselves.”

He glanced toward the discarded hat, then at the chieftain, who now eyed him with narrowed curiosity.

“If th-the chief tossed it away, it’s not because it wasn’t fancy. I-I think maybe… we’re not understanding what they actually want. We might be giving answers to a question they’re not even asking."

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma hadn’t been looking forward to their arrival. When the call for sighted land had gone out from above, she’d shivered, despite the warmth of the ship and despite the layer of cloth she’d so carefully wrapped herself with, for reasons more than just the cold.

The weasel had been to the island before. Her old ship had run patrol around its frigid waters, and some of the crew hadn’t made it. The cold had been a killer then, but it was the locals that had disturbed her more than anything.

She’d underestimated them, then. They were savage beasts, said to eat other intelligent beasts, rather than sustain themselves on birds and fish and other things as civilized creatures did. They’d attacked seemingly unprovoked, then.

Whatever the intent of the captain and crew this time around, she knew it would happen again.

Vihma was far from the greeting party, up by the forecastle with some others, and the bosun, Ralynn. Just another member of the crew, the matter of her experience with the island in the past had seemingly not made it into the Hide’s official records, and given her run-ins with the ship’s officers she had little interest in bringing them up herself.

Of course, she also had no intention of getting near those shrews, not if she could help it. It made her uncomfortable enough, seeing Morgan and Silvie up close to them and their longboats. True, Minister Ryalor had his marines standing by, and the longboats were so far down below. It still made her uneasy.

She wasn’t the only one, at least. Ralynn motioned the crew to take weapons – Vihma had already gone to get her bow from down belowdecks, once the crew had been distracted by the arrival of the Urk shrews.

So the weasel stood by, watching them try to communicate with the natives, slowly setting her arrows down on the railing by her side. She had only a few, still – with little time to acquire new ones or practice since the run-in in the harbor. But she was confident in her bow and her skill with it- holding the weapon in her off hand, out of sight from the greeting party, ready to bring it to bear the moment the negotiations inevitably went south.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn was surprised, and, perhaps mildly irritated when Swifttail came to speak right after he gave his orders and in the middle of the negotiations, but decided to be lenient this time as he needed the crew in peak morale for the journey ahead. Giving a nod to him when he asked to offer his opinion, he listened, cocking his head thoughtfully. Then, he glanced between Swifttail, Morgan, and Silvertongue, the latter recording everything with quill and ink.

“That could well be Swifttail, but these shrews are known for being quite a unique culture, and Morgan does seem to have interpreted their language quite well given what we know of it. Of course, perhaps your native language shares some similarities or Silvertongue, since he seems cultured and must have some inkling of foreign languages, might be able to offer a second opinion? I am sure she got most of it right, but perhaps a small detail or two regarding the hats in particular were off. I mean, it is not like she has no idea what they are saying at all, given how eloquently she spoke and given the seriousness of the situation and her compassion for her crewbeasts. I am sure she would have informed us all if she was unable to comprehend it rather than put the entirety of the Hide in danger. That would be an absurd, even a possible hanging offense, and she has been doing so well ever since her initial adjustment period!”

He gave an approving nod to Morgan, who had really shaped up since she was disciplined at the beginning of the journey, then turned to look at Finnian.

“I will tell you what, while I and Finnian go look for some hats, perhaps you three can confer and continue negotiations with the shrew. Three minds are better than one, after all, and while I have many skills, I only speak Vulpinsulan and Fyadoran, neither of which seem close to this one. Come, Finnian, let us find some funny hats for the shrews, mhmm? And maybe we can find one for you, too."

Gesturing to Finnian to accompany him, the Captain followed Gyles and other members of the crew to try to find the kind of hats the shrews might like.

@Morgan Liu @Silvertongue Songfox @SwifttailTheFox @Ralynn Waverunner @Vihmastaja @FinnianBrightfur

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Ah. So that’s how it is, then.

Swifttail’s eyes stayed fixed ahead, but inside, his thoughts coiled tight. He hadn’t meant to challenge orders. He’d only spoken because something didn’t fit, and the stakes were too high to leave assumptions untested. But Talinn’s response came not as a rebuttal, but a gentle gutting. Each word measured, hewn, and aimed like a hunters arrow.

“Perhaps your native language shares some similarities…” A guess, or a dig? As if speaking with a stammer gave him some obscure talent for pigmy shrew dialects?

And poor Silvertongue, roped into the mess as a convenient distraction.

But it was the last part: “That would be an absurd, even a possible hanging offense…” that made Swifttail’s stomach twist. Whether Talinn meant it or not, he might have just drawn a noose around Morgan’s neck with his voice.

Swifttail bit back the retort forming at the edge of his tongue. He wasn't here to make enemies, and he certainly wasn’t here to knock holes in the captain’s ego. He felt the words turn to ash on his tongue before he could even think to speak.

He dared a glance toward Morgan, hoping she didn’t look betrayed. His heart thudded with the dull rhythm of guilt. She was the one who’d been on the front lines of this exchange. She was the one the Captain had chosen to trust, not him.

He thought of the harsh, lyrical lilt of his own homeland’s dialect and compared it to the sharp, chittering cadence of the pigmy shrews. Not even close. He should’ve known better.

Just trying to help, he thought bitterly. And all I’ve done is make the ice thinner for the crew to walk on.

So he said nothing.

He bowed his head just slightly, stepped back into the ranks, and folded his arms quietly.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn slipped right on in under @Morgan's arm, and nestled against her side as he watched. It was right chilly on the deck. Though Finn had upgraded his uniform, he hated the cold, and was thankful to share a little warmth when he could get it. "Woah, you speak other languages?" he asked, tipping his head up to look at the ferret with admiration.

The todd's ears perked up as he heard his name, and snapped to attention. A tasking, from the captain himself, to go on an urgent hat related mission, critical to negotiations with savage beasts? This was the best day, ever. Finn ALMOST grabbed Talinn's paw to drag him through the ship like a kit in a toystore. But his sense of decorum stopped him. Finnian was a seabeast now, a member of the crew. It was critical to be serious. Especially in the company of the captain.

"Aww yeah! I know where lots of hats are! Have you seen the one the chef wears? C'mon!"

Very, very serious.

Finn skipped towards the lower deaks, waiting impatiently for the captain to come with him. At the first sign that @The Captain was coming, the kit'd tear off like a bolt of lightning towards the galley.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue paled and he snapped his record book shut, hurrying over to Morgan. "Morgan, please tell me that was an accurate translation." He whispered to her.

"I only know one other language, and it sounds nothing like this. If we had more time, I could try to translate it, but we're going to have to assume you were right for the sake of... well, your neck." He sighed, and he removed his cavalier hat, looking at it fondly. "I shouldn't be too upset, all things considered. It's just a hat, and as long as I still have my lute, I know Father is still with me."

With that, he tossed his hat overboard, letting it flutter through the air towards the shrews.