Expedition The Urk Expedition: Waterlogged

Finn was overjoyed to hear Morgan's voice croak out from the corner. The young kit, however, was taking after Barrett, and didn't look up from his work. No distractions, especially when working with sharp tools. He did have to pause for a chuckle at Morgan's joke, though. The humor broke the tension, and set him at ease.

"Sorry Ms. Waverunner..." he said apologetically, quickly pulling his damp cloth away from the wound he was cleaning. Barrett had talked with him about causing pain while treating patients. Sometimes it was unavoidable, and this... this was one of those times, wasn't it? Recovering his nerve, the foxkit returned to her wounds, carefully wiping the blood away so he could see.

A more experienced surgeon would have worked much more quickly to clear the fur -- Finn, however, needed more time. He would have been devastated if he accidentally nicked a patient, adding to their injuries. Kneeling on the table behind Ralynn, he continued his work, steadying himself with a paw on her shoulder.

There was a certain confidence you needed with a straight razor. Finn had learned through practicing on his forearm that too much pressure would cause razor burn -- but too little would mean more passes, and the same result. With smooth strokes, Finn started at the edge of the wounds, and drew the knife away with a measured flick.

Sitting back, he surveyed the area, and looked over to the pine marten. "Ok, Ms. Waverunner is ready Mr. Barrett..."
 
Greeneye glowered at Arthur. He knew the doc was right, but he could tell Arthur wasn't speaking his mind about something. He just wasn't sure what.

Suddenly, there was a loud yelp, and Silvertongue started to twist and turn in his hammock.

"Oh, Hells... not now." Greeneye turned to Arthur with a worried look. "He's got dem night terrors, Doc. Every time he goes to sleep, he screams 'n' cries. Though it usually don't happen this quick."

Greeneye tried to stand up, but he winced as he put weight on his leg and he slumped back down. "Nope. Can't do dat quite yet."
 
Vihma tried to smile back at Morgan, at her joke. It was hard, given the circumstances, given how cold and tired she still felt. But it was easier to meet the ferret’s eyes than looking back at the tubing sticking out of her.

“Yer i-impossible, mate.”

Before she knew, the surgeon was with her, taking her wet blanket to scuff her dry with a towel. She made a soft squeak – something undignified – given her surprise, and perhaps in muted protest for his remark at her having gotten herself in this situation.

“I-I’ll ‘ave ye know, it was on the Captain’s or-orders, Doc.”

There wasn’t anything to complain about for the toweling off, though. She could feel the ice cold water rubbed from her fur, warmth returning with the friction. In the moment, there wasn't even any embarrassment for the fact her thankfully dry clothes weren't yet on her body again.

“’ad t’get Silvie’s hat from the waters… ‘n a few other things.”

She looked over at the resting fox, just in time to see Greeneye try to make for his hammock, with predictable results.

The weasel winced, well as she could with her teeth still chattering occasionally.

"'ope they're both alright..."
 
The beleaguered Captain of the Hide, carefully holding his small silver chest as he descended down into the warmer depths of the ship, made his way to the infirmary, half his face bloody from the superficial spear wound that would have taken off his head had he not still had decent reaction time for a beast his age. He shook his head. Thirty years ago, even ten, that bastard shrew would have never nicked him, but everybeast was subject to the ravages of time, even him. He was just lucky, through arduous practice, he had kept his up skills with both of his blades. If he had not, Silvertongue would have been held captive or worse. He hoped that Vihmastaja had been able to reclaim his wakizashi, even for a Duke such an Auldarian steel weapon was not so easily replaced, and one day, when he was gone, he hoped Alwyn would inherit it. Even if he disdained his Fyadoran ancestral weapons, he could at least rework the precious metal into a weapon suiting him.

After this is over, I will see about the Empress recalling him to Bully Harbor. The family needs additional help now, and now he has gotten to know the Brudenells and their character, should the need ever arrive to...pass further judgment...on them.

Stepping into the infirmary, small specks of blood still dripping from his facial fur onto the floor, he nodded at Barrett respectfully. The pine marten was skilled, even if Talinn had to instruct him via Silvertongue on a more efficient way to handle beasts with hypothermia when it had come to Morgan earlier. He did not blame the mustelid, however, because that knowledge had been paid for with experiments that were not, strictly speaking, in accordance with the medical ethics taught at Pyrostoat, Length, or, even, perhaps, what the Minister of Justice might consider malpractice. But it had saved lives on this trip, and so would the other things he held in the silver box.

“Surgeon Barret,” he asked, voice formal and respectful as he glanced across the room, “how are our patients? We should have proper heat back on relatively soon, thank the Empress.”

Although he was the Minister of Innovation, he did not pretend to know more than the Surgeon on medical matters unless he had been specifically instructed by his own scientific advisors. He was, if anything, more an administrator than a subject matter expert, something that had been needed more with the increased role Innovation had in the new Imperium. But from what he could tell at a glance, Morgan seemed the worse off, clinging to life through some sort of tube stuck into her, Silvertongue seemed to be recovering if having some kind of night terrors, Greeneye seemed about ready to get up and move to comfort him despite his wounds, Finnian was busy with Ralynn who seemed to be taking being ministered to well. He also caught a glance of that all-too-familiar ferret, shivering under a blanket, but seeming fine. She probably wondered why he had her suffer so much just for some hats and a dagger, but he would have time to explain that to her later on, and question her about her origins.
 
Barrett's face cracked into a wry smile as the captain walked into his infirmary. Paradoxically, this was authority Arthur could tolerate. The captain delegated. He didn't specify how something was to be accomplished, only that it should be accomplished. The administrators back in the civillian world never seemed to grasp this -- and would try to push treatment like they pushed pencils. Barrett despised them, and had grown skeptical and bitter of all authority over the years.

Captain Ryalor, on the other hand, reminded him of the early days of the Winter War. He'd given plenty of leeway for Arthur to operate, and freed him from the shackles of bureaucracy. For that, he was greatful. And yet -- there he was, thanking the empress for the work of other beasts on the ship. It was expected of a minister, of course, to pay homage to the empress. Barrett supposed he was trying to set an example for the crew... but even he pondered at the captain's... ...complicated history. Did the empress's ears truly reach this far?

Arthur didn't mind Greeneye's glower. Like Talinn's fealty, it was the requisite emotion -- and told Arthur that his words had the desired affect. The yelp from Silvie made him jump. Even though he quickly realized what it was, the pitiful cry caught him off guard and unsettled him. Collecting himself, he turned to answer the captain's question.

"One critical -- but improving nicely. Two getting stitched up -- and three now with minor injuries..." he said with a slight pause, regarding the captain's head wound. Just from a glimpse, it seemed to be a trivial laceration, but he would have to inspect it. "You must permit me to look at your brow, sir?" Finishing off with Vihma, he courteously draped a blanket over her shoulders, and took her towel. Briskly, he bundled it, and tossed it towards the pile of wet things.

He'd have offered the captain a place to sit -- but Talinn was the type that preferred to be on his feet. Drawing near, Arthur waited for the captain to allow him to examine the wound, and took the opportunity to look at the silver chest in his paws. Clearly it was something of value, but beyond his purview at the moment.

"Putting off your visit to the Dark Forest, I see?" he mused warmly, affectionately chiding the captain for his carelessness. "You won't be offended if I have young Finnian take care of you? Officer Waverunner is in need of stitches..."

But of course, the captain wouldn't protest such a thing. Everyone was fond of Finn. Taking his leave, Barrett crossed the infirmary to fetch his bottle of laudanum from the locked cupboard. He frowned as he regarded how little there was left. Moving rather quickly through this one... Crossing to Officer Waverunner, Barrett offered her several drops on her tongue. "To take the edge off..."
 
Last edited:
Talinn dutifully listened to Barrett, his eyes taking in the situation, and he was relieved to see that no beasts of his had died so far, a rarity for the Hide engaged in combat, although not for a lack of trying on their part. He wanted to sigh. He had not ordered Morgan to jump in while arrows were still being rained down on the Shrews and do whatever crazy thing she had by dragging him under the hull, nor Greeneye to attack the shrews in a borderline suicidal maneuver, or Ralynn to do what she had done, but he did not have the time to explain to them their mistakes or soothe the ruffled feathers that often came with such. And, in a way, the tight bond he had noticed being formed between many of the crew members was a good thing, for the most part. He just hoped it did not cost them or the Imperium too much in the future.

Resisting an urge to shake his head, he instead let out a rare small, rueful laugh and cracked a slight smile at Barrett as he moved over towards the young foxkit to get stitched up, moving over to a nearby table and setting the box carefully down upon it.

“I’m afraid it’s ‘Gates for me if what a lot of beasts say about me is true,” he pondered, putting a paw up and rubbing his chin “but every beast has to believe they are decent, no? But yes, I am afraid I will have to put off my visit to Vulpuz for a while yet.”


Talinn gave a nod over to the wounded crewbeasts, addressing them in a brief, but respectful manner as Finnian cleaned the blood off his face, carefully phrasing his words as he did so.

“You were all very brave today, and I am glad that you are all okay. You’re in good hands with Surgeon Barrett, and maybe some things I have brought along can help with your recovery, or, if you are feeling eager to return to service, enable you to do so without your injuries being quite as much of a handicap for a time.”

He motioned for Barrett to come forward as Finnian finished cleaning the wound.

“I would explain some of these items to you, if you would, Surgeon, while you or young Finnian here stitch me up.”
 
DISCLAIMER: I am borrowing the song 'The Underworld' from Epic The Musical. If you want to skip past the song sequence, look for the words SKIP HERE in big bold red text.​

Meanwhile, Silvertongue tossed and turned in the throes of his night terrors, letting out the occasional loud yelp. There would be no comforting him, as these were no ordinary nightmares one could easily wake from. He would have to suffer through the ordeal on his own.

Within the depths of his mind, Silvertongue was having a very vivid and strange dream. Although he frequently experienced them, this night-terror was unlike the others. The young fox found himself standing at the bow of a longship, with about a dozen vermin manning the oars. Former companions from his time on the pirate ship Sea King. They all stared at him expectantly. The ship sat perfectly still in a river with no current, a barren landscape stretching infinitely in every direction.

“Erm… Full speed ahead?” He suggested.

“Full speed ahead!” They repeated, almost lifeless, taking the oars and rowing the ship down the river.

Silvertongue swallowed uneasily, feeling a lump forming in his throat as he looked around. There were no landmarks to go off of, so he had no way of knowing how far they had gone when suddenly he spotted the only interesting thing around. A tall stone wall that seemed to pierce the clouds, with metal spikes adorning its battlements. The longship stopped at an iron gate within the river, and a strange figure was sitting on the water's edge next to a lever. It was neither woodlander nor vermin, instead some horrifying mass of shadow in the shape of a creature. It stared at Silvertongue with bright white eyes.

“Hail, and well met!” Silvertongue called out to the creature. “Could you explain where exactly we’re at?”

“Must I explain this every time we meet?” The being seemed unimpressed, even a bit annoyed. “I am Xerxes, gatekeeper of the Underworld. This is the entrance to the Underworld. Where all creatures reside after death until it is determined whether they are to go to the Dark Forest or Hellgates.”

Silvertongue just nodded as Xerxes explained this, dumbfounded. “Xerxes, Sir, I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m almost certain that I’m not dead.”

“I know that, you nitwit. You are, unfortunately, being granted access to the Underworld. There is a powerful seer who is awaiting you on the other side. Though I doubt you will make it to them, you have failed every previous attempt.” Xerxes said.

“Hold on… how many times have I tried to do this? Also, what seer do you speak of? The only one I know is Madame Lorelei, and she is also still alive.”

The Underworld is dangerous, and it will play tricks on your mind. You will hear the voices of your friends and family who have passed, but you must ignore them at all costs. Until you find the seer." Having ignored Silvertongue's questions and speaking his piece, Xerxes pulled the lever, and the gate slowly started to rise. He then floated away and disappeared into the mist.

“Wait!” Silvertongue had more questions, but Xerxes was already gone. He sighed and turned to the vermin rowers.

“Friends, Xerxes instructions were clear. No matter what we hear:”
“Full speed ahead! Until we find the prophet!”

Silvertongue turned to face the gate as it gave way to the supposed Underworld before them.

“My comrades, this land confuses your mind, so no matter who we find:”
“Full speed ahead! Until we find the prophet!”

“Good.” Silvertongue nodded as the rowers started to move the ship past the gate. The land went from a gray and barren wasteland to a massive ocean, the sky a sickly green color, and the water black as night.

All around them were spirits. Some were floating in the water, some were flying through the air, and some were even on spectral ships or boats of their own, but all of them were wailing and gnashing their teeth. The most horrifying thing of all, however, was that once the ship passed into the Underworld, all the vermin aboard the longship started to decay, shedding their skin and flesh, blood spilling from their bodies and spilling out onto the deck, seeping into the wood, until only their skeletons remained. Yet, still, they rowed, staring forward with empty eye-sockets.

Silvertongue grimaced, and he closed his eyes, covering his ears, but nothing could drown them out. He heard a drum beating to keep the rowers in sync, so he started to sing:

“All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes
I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died
Nothing's what it seems-!”


“Nothing’s what it seems.” The rowers sang along with Silvertongue, still rowing to the beat.
“And here in the Underworld, the past seems close behind."
"This land confuses your mind!” They repeated the same ominous warning that Xerxes had given.

Silvertongue looked out at the endless expanse of water, suddenly seeing hundreds of souls approaching the ship. They surrounded the boat, but they seemed unable to get into it.

“When does a todd become a monster?
Five hundred beasts of our crew, who died all because of you!”


Silvertongue sees a vision appear in the air of a battlefield littered with bodies. He sees himself, with his rapier drawn, facing off against an imposing badger with blood-red eyes. He sees himself turn and run off into the darkness. He shook his head. It happened just as he remembered it going.

“Silver! Silver! Silver! Silver!
Why would you let the badger live?
When ruthlessness is mercy!”


Silvertongue turned away, singing again to drown them out.

“All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes.”
“I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died."
“Nothing's what it seems.”
“But in the Underworld, the past seems close behind... I keep thinking of the battle on that night, I keep thinking of the battle on that night.”*

Silvertongue plopped down against the rail of the ship, holding his head, trying desperately to think about anything else when suddenly he heard the familiar strings of his lute..?

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms.”

“Grandfather…” Silvertongue gasped, standing up and peering out over the waters. He saw the spectral form of an old black fox wearing a tricorn hat, clothed in a black bard doublet and pantaloons.

“Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart.
No matter the place, we can light up the world
Here's how to start:”


Silvertongue suddenly sees a vision of himself as a child, holding out his arms as his grandfather hands him the lute.

“Greet the world with open arms,
Greet the world with open arms.”


The specter of his grandfather faded away as the ship continued deeper into the Underworld.

“Grandfather…” Silvertongue held out his hand for a moment before stopping himself. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. He turned back to the front and saw a floating island in the distance, with a few dead trees and a ramshackle hut near the shore. This had to be the prophet.

“Waiting…” A wavery female voice echoed across the waters, and Silvertongues' heart dropped into his chest.

“That voice, it can’t be…”

“Waiting…” A little rowboat bobbed into view, rowed by a skeletal rat, and the other occupant was the ghostly form of a vixen, wearing a blue silk gown and holding an umbrella over her head.

“Mom?” He didn’t want to believe his eyes; he didn’t want it to be true. He knew it wasn't true- and yet here she was before him.

“Waiting,
My Silvertongue, when you come home, I’ll be waiting
Even if you’re the last thing I see, I’ll be waiting....”


Silvertongue walked along the sides of the ship, his eyes fixated on his mother.

“I’m right here, Mom-”
“Waiting…”
“Can’t you see I’m-”
“Waiting..."*

Silvertongue bit his lip and took his hat from his head, unable to look away from her.

“I took too long..”
“I'll always love you.”
“And ventured too far…”
“I'll stay in your heart.”
“While you were-”
“Waiting, Waiting, Waiting..."*

He could only watch helplessly as the rowboat drifted across the lake, further and further away. “Bye, Mom…”

He looked at the floating island. He was so close, but he turned away, running towards the back of the ship and diving into the black waters. Immediately, he felt dozens of paws clawing at his chest, arms, and legs, but he fought them off. Looking down, Silvertongue was horrified to see the specters had morphed into that of his new crewmates. Morgan, Vihma, Ralynn, and even Talinn.

“All I hear are screams! Every time I dare to close my eyes!"* He shouted, still hoping his singing would protect him.

“All I hear are screams!" The specters surrounding him mimicked his words as they tried to drag him under the water.

Silvertongue desperately tried to paddle after his mother.

“I no longer dream-”
“I no longer dream!”
“Only nightmares of those who died!”
“N
othing’s what it seems!”*
“Nothing’s what it seems!”

The rowboat was getting further away, and Silvertongues strength was failing him. The specters surrounded him, pushing him under the water. He struggled to the surface, hearing one last eerie chant from the spirits before he was dragged down into the depths:

“But in the Underworld, your past is always close behind!
Y
our past is always close behind!
D
own in the Underworld!”

*Note, mixed color text are two or more characters singing in unison

SKIP HERE
Silvertongue shot up with a sharp gasp, clutching his chest. He looked around at the room, his eyes resting on each injured beast. Greeneye with multiple bandages wrapped around his arms, legs, and waist. Ralynn getting stitched up, Talinn bleeding from his head, and Morgan- Morgan with some horrible tube sticking from her chest.

Silvertongue then took the time to check his own body for injuries, only to find none. He trembled and started to weep, tears flowing fast and freely down his cheeks.


"It's all my fault!" He choked out through his cries. "I alone am responsible for the sordid state of affairs that have befallen us now!"

He tried to stop his tears, but it was in vain. "All of this would not have happened if I hadn't foolishly pranced about on the rails! What a wretched beast I must be, that you have all been injured for my sake!"

He stared at his paws once more. "The Blessed Saints may have smiled on me, but in doing so they have doubled- no, tripled my troubles and passed them to all of you. Here I lay, unbesmirched, while your bodies are marred with the wounds of war. I do not deserve to have such a mercy bestowed upon me when I am the one who caused all of this in the first place!"

Silvertongue hung his head in shame, still trembling from the cold, but now equally so in embarrassment. "I am a truly terrible burden to you, my friends, and I can do nothing save to beg your forgiveness for my idiocy."
 
Back
Top