Thief's Law (Old VI Thread)

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

(Another old unfinished thread. The crew of the Golden Hide are sent on a mission to infiltrate an island and eliminate the threat. Starring: Tanya Ryalor, Jeshal the Ironclaw, Brek Larks, Rijard M. Chaos, Xhavek Mokorai, Stripesail and Spitecloud Darkhedge, Colonel Khan, Tomias Redford, Tametrat Klanted, Kerri Quilane, Ponce McIntyre, Armina Rogue, Will "Wisp" Wanderpaw, and Macavity Ashpaw)



THIEF’S LAW

First post Frimary 10, Yr. 1730



Tanya Ryalor
The wee hours of that winter morning was blissfully still; keening winds whipping in from the seas sliced through the harbour mercilessly, driving even the most hardy of beasts to stay inside by their tankards or deck of cards if they hadn't passed out by now. The streets, for the most part, were deserted and the ships equally quiet as the night's festivities burned out into exhaustion. The world languished in frost-dusted slumber.

...Well, for the most part.

A blot of deepest black upon the shadows skittered through the frozen streets with the grace and subtlety of a moonbeam. It drifted to the docks, seeming to hesitate between the anchored ships available to it before finally deciding to board the gangplank of The Hide and hurry up to the quarterdeck, from whence it found itself accosted by the sentries, eyes red from lack of sleep and noses running from the cold, as they broke from their huddle of cloaks to confront the ominous, if tiny, figure with suspicious growls and raised weapons. A flash of green amidst the dark of the cowl alerted them to the danger of harrying the creature any further and they lapsed into silence soon enough, shifting back with muttered apologies. With a gruff grunt and little else, the shadow passed on.

It made a beeline for the captain's quarters; eyeing the door critically, the beast gave it several seconds of scrutiny before bowing to common sense and, rather than knock, withdrew a sliver of white from the folds of the cloak. In a slick motion it stooped low, the flicker of colour disappeared, and it straightened, waiting for any signs of response. Nothing, good. Yawning silently, the shadowy figure, gaunt even when cloaked, flicked its fiery brush back into the recesses of the dark swath of material, gave a satisfied nod and seemed to melt into the shadows, leaving no signs of its existence aboard the ship.

When the captain should awake, they would find a simple parchment letter left neatly just inside their door, the only distinction between it being orders and a mere note the elegant crimson seal.

Dear Captain,

It is with utmost urgency that I write to you on a matter of great interest. Much as I would like to announce this task face to face, and even join you on this mission, Guard duties keep me from attending.

You are thus given these orders: There is a curious island, not too large, two weeks sail due North-East from the Tookumberry Keys (You'll find a map pinned to your wheel by the morning, I suggest you use it) that has yet to be fully explored by Imperial beasts. Last investigations have reported the presence of armed guards in non-Imperial uniform on the beaches and cliffs although no visible camp or ship has been seen. Exercising all caution, investigate this island, eliminate the threat and infiltrate it to find out just what is so special as to be needing a guard.

Good luck and fair winds.

-Admiral Tanya.



Jeshal the Ironclaw
"'Gates."

Having pulled shut the window to blot out the chill of the wet, morning air, Captain Ironclaw paced the floor of his cabin and read over the piece of parchment until the message burned into his skull. A dangerous mission and the Admiral was not going to participate? Jeshal's fur crawled. What if she had discovered his purpose and was sending him to his death? Or if it was real, what if the voyage killed him and he never got his revenge? Why couldn't they just sail around the familiar grounds and bully a few woodlanders? Cruel vixen.

But his piratical nature got the better of him. The curiosity and the desire for treasure pestered his self-preservation. Either way, he had no choice. He might as well be enthused.

Jeshal dressed himself for formal appearance. He removed the peacock feather from his hat and placed it back in his wardrobe. This was not an occasion for frivolity. Keeping calm, the copper fox slipped out of his cabin and rounded up to the quarterdeck. As promised, there was a map attached to the helm, getting spattered with rain. He rolled it up and hid it within his coat, and then moved down to the ship's bell.

Clang-a-clang-a-clang-a-clang-a-clang-a-clang-a...

"All paws on deck ye idle seaswine! Spit out yer pillows from yer vittle dreams an' shut yer snorin' gobs! All paws on deck!"

The awakening chant rambled on for a good three minutes until he was certain the majority of the crew were assembled before him in whatever states they had brought themselves.

"Hidebeasts, it be fallin' upon me ter inform ye that our usual schedule be interrupted. Our dearest admiral has bestowed us with a mission fer the good of the Imperium, to which end we will be sailin' this very afternoon. Now, I cannot be sayin' too much at present on the nature o' this sojourn, but, says I, it will be dangerous. There may be riches or reward should we succeed, mateys, and, should our task prove less fruitful, be warmed by the potential o' gainin' honour from our Emperor. As ever, I shall be monitorin' those that partake o' this mission. There be vacancies in the ranks of officers and this be a fine opportunity ter show me yer worth."

Jeshal's dark, sinister eyes scanned the crowd of his ramshackle crew and smiled.

"With little more ado, me friends, ye have until noon ter get y'selves packed an' ready. Bring aboard supplies ter suit nigh two months' sail, bid farewell ter yer dollies an' gen'lebeasts an' get sharpenin' yer weapons. Let's be showin' Bully 'Arbour what their Navy can achieve! Dismissed."

That was it. No offer for questions, no permission for shore leave besides fetching supplies. If any beast wanted to challenge the order, it was not going to happen publicly. Jeshal made sure of that. The metal-gauntleted fox moved swiftly back to his cabin and shut the door behind him.



Brek Larks/Rijard M. Chaos
As soon as Brek was sure Jeshal was in his cabin The young bosun started barking orders, "Alright you lazy crocodile feed, you heard the captain, now get to it! Move quickly, we ain't got all Frimary!"

He marched across the deck shouting orders to those who were still standing around. "You," he pointed to a crewbeast standing in the chaos, he had no time to recognize the beast, "Climb up in the riggin' and make sure nothing is failing!" To another he shouted, "Check all the ballista make sure they're war ready, pull in a crew if you need to!"

Soon his path crossed a particular beast he had hoped wasn't coming on the voyage. "Chaos," he shouted at the hungover half-sleeping marten.

The messy beast stirred "Brek qui' yo barkin'! I hear' wa' cappy says and I'll get to it when I'm ready!" Brek knew that Rijard planned to lollygag since he already had all he owned on the ship and no beast in the Imperium would be caught dead as his friend.

"Oh no ye don't you slimy bag of s'weed," Brek leaned down and grabbed the marten's chest fur and pulled him up to his feet-paws. "I've got a special job in mind for you," He grinned.

"Wa'teffer it is I' sure it can wai' til—" Rijard replied sleepily but was interrupted by Brek.

"I'm putting you in charge of making sure the ship's grog supply is plenty for two months to your degree. Get down in the hold and get checkin'!" He yanked the marten around him in the direction of the deck stairs and gave him a small kick to the hind-quarters.

After he was sure another officer was taking care of the on-deck preparations Brek headed to the docks. He put himself in the ship's supply preparations making sure any cargo they were to take along was being delivered and loaded. When the beasts who were loading were familiar with the cargo they were to load he took a short leave towards the town. He had no family to say farewell to, his family lived in a far-off land and connections with them were broken recently. He also had no friends, Brek didn't do much off the Hide except his Fogey job. But he made his way to the public market before leaving on one last errand.


Xhavek Mokorai
Xhavek stretched almost lazily as he walked along the deck of the Hide. He was always packed and ready at all times for unexpectedly lengthy voyages therefore the need for him to pack was absent. However, he noted with a frown he DID need to be notified upon the course the ship would be taking. This said he walked lithely to the door of the captain's quarters and knocked politely before entering.

"Zir I vould like to know our courze. If you or ze Admiral haz any prezet ideaz of exactly how ve vant our ship to get vhere itz going I'd like to know. Juzt zo I can't make a miztake and get uz off-courze or zomething elze equally unvanted."

Xhavek's steely glare scanned the desk as he stood with his claws crossed behind his back resting easily just above the base of his tail. He preferred being outside amongst the crew when work was to be done. His time as Aide-de-camp had invested in him a severe hatred of paperwork though admittedly he was a fair hand with it. He wished he was up in the rigging shouting at his fellow sailors, the wonderful view of the ocean set a peace in him that he was hard-pressed to find elsewhere. And of course it was the biggest trouble spot on the ship. Then again this whole endeavor reeked of trouble and Xhavek had often been told he had a nose for such things. An uneasy feeling crept over him and ruined his mood yet outwardly he showed little other than the discomfort of having a sore claw from having shattered a beasts jaw the day before. THAT had been quite fun in the monitor's estimation but standing here awaiting his captain's response felt anything but.



Jeshal the Ironclaw
The moment Jeshal heard the knock at his door he slid a pile of papers across the map. He would tell the crew more detail in due time, but for now he did not want them to get overexcited. Many of them were young and knew no battles beyond raids upon defenceless creatures. He could picture them comparing the sizes of their swords and boasting of how many beasts they were going to kill. He needed them on edge and serious, and he wanted to test them.

He looked up from the desk as Xhavek entered and gave a nod.

"Zir I vould like to know our courze. If you or ze Admiral haz any prezet ideaz of exactly how ve vant our ship to get vhere itz going I'd like to know. Juzt zo I can't make a miztake and get uz off-courze of zomething elze equally unvanted."

The monitor was smart. So often he asked questions or made seemingly opinionless statements but underneath them was a subtle manipulation, an awareness of the world that he pretended not to have.

"Fer the timebein' we be sailin' fer the Tookums, Master Mokorai. Simple, easy course. I wager ye'd manage it with yer claws tied an' blindfolded ye've done it so much." Jeshal smoothed out the creases of an old Tookumberry Keys chart beside him before looking Xhavek in the face. How strange it was to do so when that face had changed so much. "If ye have a lady in the Harbour, 'twould be wise ter see 'er while ye can. 'Tis a voyage more'n twice as long as our raids."

The Ironclaw suppressed a shudder. He hated this. How dare she desert them? How dare she be somewhere else when he could die, unavenged, not having had the chance to feel his claw crushing her delicate throat! He had to survive this. There was no other option.


Stripesail Darkhedge
OOF!!!

Stripesail fell to the floor of the cabin as Xhavek opened the door to leave.

"Wer hedin to the to'ums, capain Ironcaw? Whi we 'eading thar? Es thayr tesur thar ar sam'thin? Wel, whi er we eadin thar?" he asked in his most annoyingest voice. He had hidden from Brek's order issuing by hiding up in the crow’s nest and when he came down he tripped and fell, landing right in front of the captain's cabin as Xhavek walked in. His enormous curiosity forced him to lean up against the door and eavesdrop on the conversation. He was just about to leave too when the lizard suddenly opened the door to leave.

(This takes place after Jeshal and Xhavek finish talking and Xhavek opens the door to leave. Therefore it doesn't mean their conversation ended after Jeshal's last post. It ends when Xhavek decides to leave the cabin.)


Colonel Khan
Perhaps it was merely having suffered through two long wars and watched many of his friends, comrades, and – later in his career – soldiers go to their deaths, but Khan had always been subject to particularly violent and frightful dreams. They had started when he was a young regimental and he had witnessed his first death: a fellow regimental whose name Khan had never even bothered to learn. From there the nightmares escalated with the casualties. Sometimes he saw his fallen comrades, leering at him and demanding to know what made him so special that he was alive and they were dead. Sometimes he saw the beasts he had slaughtered portrayed in infinite detail, screaming for blood or crying for their families. Sometimes Khan even saw the families, weeping for their fallen fathers and brothers and accusing Khan of murder. Sometimes Khan saw all of them at once.

It was the latter from which he emerged to the clanging of the ship's bell. His eyes stared wide around him, his chest heaving as he struggled for breath. Sweat drenched his undershirt, sticking it tight to his chest. Had he been forty instead of sixty-one, it might have actually presented an attractive image.

Khan's rapid breathing slowed, his hardened lungs recovering from their bout. Ignoring the bell for a short time, Khan lowered himself back onto his pillow, staring up at the sky. It had been a true nightmare; beasts drawn from every corner of Khan's memory and imagination had swarmed him, reaching out with ghostly paws to touch his face. Frantically he had battered them away, but quickly the ghosts were becoming real and he was fading away, his paw trailing in the air like a wisp of smoke. Just before the beasts entirely overtook him, he realized that he was ceasing to exist...

"Than' 'Ga'es fer tha' bell," Khan muttered, throwing off the covers and swinging his legs out of the bunk.

It only took a minute to pull on his boots and throw on his threadbare training jacket. Jeshal was still ringing the bell when Khan emerged onto the deck. The rugged veteran shot the captain a scowl as the bell continued to clang. "Pipe down, w'all 'eard ye!" he called.

Khan listened carefully to the captain's announcement, his military scowl already settled across his face. At the mention of the officer positions an unidentifiable expression crossed his face, something between approval and contempt. His face struggled with both expressions for a moment before deciding it really wasn't worth it and subsiding back into the scowl.

As the crowd dispersed, Khan adjusted his now-soaked jacket to better mask the stench of his body odor. He didn't need anybeast asking him why he smelled as if he'd just taken a three-mile run. While the other beasts began to load supplies for the long voyage or sneaking off for a quick farewell to their 'dollies', Khan made for the crew quarters. Ignoring the bustle of crewbeasts, Khan sat down on his bunk and grabbed a long scabbard from beneath his mattress. Seizing the hilt, he pulled it to reveal two inches of dulled steel. Khan frowned at the metal before it hit him. Since his retirement he hadn't once polished or sharpened his army broadsword. As a result, the condition of his blade had gradually deteriorated. Khan made a note to thoroughly sharpen and polish his blade before they arrived at their destination.

Slipping the scabbard onto his belt, Khan checked to make sure his trousers could withstand the weight before heading once more on deck. A disgustingly large portion of the crew was sneaking off to say farewells to their lads and lassies in port, leaving the work generally undone. Khan's one good nostril flared in a dangerously draconian manner. Had he been fifteen years younger, he might have taken off his belt and given the crew a few good lashes until they formed up into something resembling an organized crew. As it was, he couldn't trust his baggy trousers to stay up without a belt.

"Oi! Ye!" Khan collared a grey fox who was crossing the deck at a speed far too fast to be professional. The fox grabbed at his throat, trying to loosen his collar strings. "'Fraid g'bye time 's cut short t'day," Khan growled, hauling the todd to a pile of crates. "Yer lass'll survive fer another two months while y' carry 'his load."

The grey fox wheezed as he tried to loosen his restrictive collar. "No... lass..."

"Eh? Whuzza'?" Khan listened for a moment. "Y' ain' got a lass? Well, yer a smar' lad. All lassies are good fer 's gittin' y' inter trouble. Yer much be'er off wit'ou' one." He roughly released the fox, who rubbed his throat painfully. "Now'n, wha's yer name?"

"Graye," the fox answered hoarsely.

"Graye, eh? Well, Graye, git yer tail movin' 'ere. We ain' go' all day, d'spi'e wha' th' cap'n may say. Lessie, gi' ye some 'elp 'ere... 'Ey, ye!"

The grey vixen Khan had called out glanced over her shoulder. At the sight of Khan her eyes widened and she began to walk faster. Khan growled before somehow crossing the impossible distance in a single pace, collaring her much in the same manner as he had Valentine. He dragged the struggling teen over to the crates, roughly depositing her atop one. "Naw, y' listen ter me," he growled, leaning low over her. "Y' ain' 'ere because ye wanna be. Yer 'ere 'cause y' 'ave ter be. Tha' sed, y'll do wha' I tell ye ter do an' y'll do't fas'. Understood?"

The vixen merely glared over his shoulder at the todd Khan had selected to work with her. Khan alternated his gaze between the vixen and the todd, his mind quickly making the connection. He chuckled quietly. "Ex o' yers, isse?" he commented, a slight sneer on his scarred lips. "Well, live wit' i'. Y' don' git ter pick 'ho ye work wit' 'ere. Y' work wit' 'ho yer assigned, an' y' do i' quick. Un'erstan'?"

The vixen certainly didn't want to understand, but that didn't save her. Five minutes later Khan had the pair hauling crates down the companionway, all the while barking orders at them through his putrid cigar. The ship rule about not smoking belowdecks seemed to be forgotten; Khan was quite content to fill the hold with the suffocating odor of tobacco smoke, despite the ill expressions of his fellow crewbeasts.

Hang the rules; today, he was going to make a few of his own.


Xhavek Mokorai
The captain's remarks were met with equanimity until this particular tidbit: "If ye have a lady in the Harbour, 'twould be wise ter see 'er while ye can. 'Tis a voyage more'n twice as long as our raids."

That caused the short lizard to mentally rock back on his heels. Few beasts knew about Callix and his relationship not that it was going much place it was still there. As thoughts to how she had fared in his absence cluttered his brain Xhavek physically shook himself to put his mind back in order.

"Aye-aye Cap'n,” was all he said however and with a quick salute he exited the cabin. Stepping once more out into the sunlight. Then an ever so slight aroma met his scaly tongue when he flicked it appreciatively. He pondered at it for a moment. Ah-ha cigar smoke. Xhavek grinned broadly.

Seems Mister Khan wasn't listening very well. Welp time to learn him.

With an air of extreme mischief Xhavek strolled down belowdecks and was promptly hit with a wall of reek, almost like a physical blow. Hardening himself for it he stepped through the smoke and stood, quietly behind Khan. Xhavek studied the beast for this was his first time actually meeting him. He was just as the captain described, old belligerent and very much the old armybeast. Xhavek smiled, exactly the sort of beast he enjoyed. Wilier than a dozen gypsy vixens.

"Exzcuze Mizter Khan! I do believe you've been told not to zmoke belowdeckz. Pleaze obey ziz rule. I don't vant to make you, for you zeem like exactly ze zort of beazt I'd like to get to know better."

Xhavek strode forward and stood beside the oldster. "If you do ze right thingz I can provide you vith much better makez zen zat garbage you're puffing on now. Zouthern make. Ze good kind." Xhavek grinned. Having a Furotazzi background came in handy every now and again.


Jeshal the Ironclaw
Much to Jeshal's curiosity, he noted the shake of Xhavek's head before he chose to take his leave. No sooner had the monitor opened the door, there was a thud as somebeast's body connected with the deck. From his position at the desk, the captain caught sight of a weasel's nosetip.

"Wer hedin to the to'ums, capain Ioncaw? Whi we 'eading thar? Es thayr tesur thar ar sam'thin? Wel, whi er we eadin thar?"

For a moment Jeshal was baffled by the garbled words. A thick accent, or simply drunk? Mokorai simply stepped over the beast and went on his way. Sighing, the Ironclaw got up from his seat and wandered casually to where the intruder lay. He peered down with a half-raised brow.

"Ah. It be Master Dark'edge, be it not?" Carefully, he helped Stripesail to his feet and guided him outside of the cabin. Jeshal closed the door behind him and put his good paw about the little creature's shoulder. "Aye, the Tookums 'tis. If ye swizzle a tad o' brine in yer lug ye might be knowin' 'tis a mission by 'is Grace the Emperor and 'twill like be involvin' a fight or two. Now, I know ye be a new beastie, matey..."

Jeshal moved around so that he faced Stripe directly. His usual eerie smile took on a flicker of menace. The Ironclaw shoved Stripe into the wall adjacent to his cabin door and placed his paws, the fur and metal, either side of the young weasel.

"But do ye know what we used ter do ter eavesdroppers on me last ship?" His claw flexed dangerously close to the side of Stripe's face. "If I catch ye snoopin' on me discussions again, ye'll be usin' kelp ter stick yer ear back on again. Do I make meself clear?"



Stripesail Darkhedge
Stripe was used to threats by now. Traveling with Spitecloud over the years he had developed an annoying habit of irritating people wherever and whenever possible. Some beasts, like Spite, usually just chucked him out a window or some other place. Others sometimes threatened him with death and torture. He'd grown used to this over time and just ran off when threatened, laughing hysterically and spent the rest of the time hiding in a barrel or somethin else keeping out of the way of the threatener. Today was no exception, as usual.

"HEEHEEHEE! FUNNIE CAPAIN TETEN SRIPE WITH BI META' CAWS! HEEHEEHEE!"

And with that said he scampered off, laughing hysterically. He was so busy running he didn't see where he was going and flew down the stairs of the lower decks, landing right beside Xhavek and Khan. He looked at his surroundings.

"OOF! Eh... hie?"


Colonel Khan
Khan was unsurprised by the presence of an officer on his deck. He had known it was only a matter of time before he was called out for his behaviour. Still, he felt no regret; he had done as he pleased, and now the inevitable had happened. It was as sure and certain to Khan as that he would die. It really didn't matter whether it happened now or later; it would occur when it occurred, and he couldn't change that.

Khan crossed his arms before his chest and eyed the squat monitor from the corner of his eye. Several thoughts passed through his head as the monitor first threatened him with a stick, then dangled a carrot before his nose. Part of Khan considered flat-out ignoring the lizard and doing as he pleased. After a moment he dismissed the idea. Even a maverick like Khan knew when and when not to push the limits. He certainly couldn't get away with stomping on the monitor; for one, the monitor was young and spry enough to beat him in an actual fight. He couldn't pull rank either; technically he had no rank, as he was only aboard as an honorary commander. He couldn't even order a deckswab to wet himself.

For a moment Khan considered the offer of better cigars, but dismissed it out of hand. The horrible truth of the matter was that Khan actually didn't enjoy smoking; he merely did it out of force of habit. He got no true enjoyment out of his vices; the only time he had been vaguely happy had been some thirty years ago, and that had ended quickly. Now he engaged in his vices just to pass the time and whittle down his pocketbook. If he was very honest with himself, Khan might have admitted that he got no joy out of life at all.

Khan stared down at the lizard for a moment before slowly removing the cigar from his mouth, extinguishing the tip against his finger. "Y' win," he growled indifferently, tucking the half-used cigar into his front pocket. "Bu' I ain' givin' up me rolls, an' I sure don' wan' yer southern make. I'll stick with me own lot, thank ye very-"

Khan was cut short by the sudden arrival of a weasel kit on the floor near them. A growl instinctively rose in his throat, subsiding only into a soft rumble when he saw who it was. Kits. He hated kits. As far as he could remember he'd always hated kits, even though it wasn't true. There had once been a point when he had liked certain kits and endured the rest. However, age and solitude has stripped him of his manners and turned him into a bitter old fox.

"'Ho's this?" Khan growled, the fur on the back of his neck settling only a little. There was clear hostility in his voice. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the two grey foxes watching the commotion. "Oi!" he barked, rounding on them. "Ge' back ter work!" Resentfully they resumed their duty hauling crates. "Bloody mess," Khan muttered to Xhavek, running a paw over his bristled white crew cut.


Xhavek Mokorai
Xhavek himself was hard pressed NOT to tear the unfortunate weasel kitling limb from limb at the moment. He had already been caught snooping and now it seemed as if the little waste of space was following him. Badly too. Hissing in irritation Xhavek nodded at Khan's remark about the mess. This was a problem Xhavek was going to solve.

"You zere! Yez you veazel! Come over here right now! I vant a vord vith you."

The inner mad rage that always pressed on his control roiled and lashed at his psyche. However Xhavek refused to even acknowledge it and gave his insanity a forceful mental shove back into its little corner of his mind. His black claws still dug painfully into his biceps as he crossed his arms. He needed more control.

"Letz get vun zing ztraight young vun, I don't care how old you are or who your daddy iz I vill treat you az I treat every crewbeazt on ziz ship and zat includez punishmentz. Zo I'm going to give you zome friendly advize. Ztay out of mine vay. If you prezz your luck vith me I'll break you. I'm not threatening you hatchling I'm telling you a cold hard fact. You crozz ze line on ziz ship and I'm ze only zing betveen you and a very painful end. Got it?" Xhavek did not wait for an answer' and instead pressed on, "Good, now get out of mine zight I don't vant to hear anymore about you cauzing trouble now beat it."

Xhavek looked Khan zquare in the eye and twisted his head to the side popping his neck loudly. "I expect you not to cauze trouble either. You may be old and experienzed but I'll have no problem ripping you apart. Zo vatch yourzelf W. J. Khan. Ve can be friendz or enemiez and if you vant to meet mine enemiez you can check mine cabin, zeir zkullz are on mine dezk."


Stripesail Darkhedge
Stripesail eyed the lizard quizzically, wondering if he was telling the truth. Then the usual thought came to him: Who cares? What’s more fun and exciting? Definitely trouble and mayhem he thought, trying to prevent a smile from showing up on his little face. In his most innocent sounding tone, he apologized:

"Soory Saily Lizar Iy want git en yer wie anny mor. Ay'll ack lak a gad bease. Iy promas!"

And with that he scampered up deck to do something else. Probably hide in the crow’s nest would have been a good assumption.


Colonel Khan
Khan watched with disgust as the weaselkit scampered away. Where in 'Gates did these beasts come from? Every time he turned his back the crew complement seemed to drop a few IQ points. A sneer crossed his contorted lips. It seemed to be the only thing to have dropped on a few of these males. Khan had never met such a large group of sissies in his life. If this was the future of the navy, Khan hoped to be long dead before the future arrived.

Well, at least this monitor seemed to have a little of the right stuff. Khan raised his right eyebrow as the monitor made what was as close as possible to a death threat without including the word "kill". Again, Khan was tempted by a variety of options, ranging from trying to punt the monitor across the hold to spitting in his face. This time he couldn't bring himself to back down; if given an inch, this lizard would go for a mile. It was time to set the record straight between them.

A soft growl arose in Khan's throat. His beefy arms crossed before him, the fox dwarfed the monitor in size and nearly equaled him in intimidation. "Lemme make this clear, so ye don' ferge' it," he growled, leaning close to the monitor. "I don' work for you, an' I don' work fer yer navy either. I'm jist 'ere because yer ship needs as many paws as it kin git an' I don' 'ave a life ter interfere wit' my work. If'n ye 'ave a problem wit' me, take it up wit' yer cap'n an' 'ave 'im punish me. Bu' I warn ye, ye'll 'ave a 'ard time findin' somethin' ter take away tha' I ain' already lost."

With that he roughly shoved past the monitor, already shouting at the two foxes as they struggled to lift a large crate on top of another.


Xhavek Mokorai
Xhavek endured Khan's threat with equanimity. It wasn't often that a beast was brave or stupid enough to try to loom over him and threaten him. As the todd shoved pushed past him, Xhavek chuckled. A real spitfire was W. J. Khan. Which was all to the better in the diminutive lizard's opinion, the crew needed a few fireballs to keep them running smoothly.

As he turned to watch Valentine and Rogue struggle with the crate he shook his scaly head and stepped forward past the shouting Khan and placed himself bodily beneath the crate wavering at waist height. He put his arms around the sides of the crate, his claws just making the sides. Then he stood up.

Steely muscles bunched and bulged as he lifted the heavy crate right out of the foxes’ paws and into the air. Slowly almost ponderously he rotated so he faced Khan and slid the crate home to rest a-top its mate. Now free of his burden Xhavek quickly twisted his head from side to side his neck popping loudly. He then nodded at first Armina smiling almost gently for him, and then at Graye, and finally a polite nod to Khan.

"Keep up ze good vork ze lot of you. I've got other buzinezz to attend to."

With that Xhavek strode past the older todd and up the stairs and headed to his cabin. At least Xhavek had gotten some physical exertion out of it and more importantly the rage lashing at his brain had subsided somewhat. As had been said a few fireballs were needed.


Tomias Redford
Tomias was up and about earlier than most other beasts, having known that The Hide would be heading off to sea again pretty soon, Tomias was up early, down in the hold doing an inventory of their supplies. Relishing in what most would call the boring tasks, Tomias loved them, as more often than not he would be left alone to do them. Humming a tune to himself he meandered his way through the hold, occasionally jotting down on his clipboard the items that they were short on. Upon hearing the faint ringing of the bell, he knew that the captain was addressing the crew. Tomias took no heed, he could afford to miss the little get together, seeing as he could easily find out later.

After finishing his tallying up of the ship’s resources, Tomias headed topside, and then cursed inwardly. Since he was Aide, it was his role to get the captain his breakfast, and seeing as he was paranoid about whatever could happen between Sorrona cooking it, and him getting it to Jeshal, Tomias insisted on cooking it himself. So, he rushed up to the galley and started quickly putting together something.

*******************************

After about 5 minutes, he was done. An invention he had come up with, breakfast crepes. Basically, a really thin pancake, wrapped around a filling made of scrambled gull eggs, and melted cheese. This was served on a plate with a thick Hollandaise sauce drizzled over it, and around the plate decoratively. Finished off with a sprig of fresh parsley for garnish. He also had made a nice hot mug of mint tea to go with it. Slipping his clipboard under his arm, he picked up the mug of tea, and then balanced the plate in the crook of his arm. The cutlery was stuck in his pocket for easy carrying. It was quite a feat traversing the ship to get to the captain’s cabin bearing the dishes, but Tomias was doing alright. As he walked across the deck towards Jeshal´s cabin, he grinned at Armina.

"I´ll be out to help you in a minute babe, I´m kinda busy at the mo´..."

Passing Xhavek he gave a quick salute.

"Mornin´ sir," he said in passing, as he walked up to the cabin door and knocked. Putting on a passable Hare accent, he called out.

"Permission to enter sah! I bear bally good scoff doncha know..."



Jeshal the Ironclaw
After the little 'Darkhedge' weasel had evaded him, Jeshal had simply returned to give the ship's route a good few hours of cold staring. What if this was some sort of conspiracy with the rest of the captains? What if she was sending him to his death and laughing about it. Well, he'd show her. The Ironclaw was a survivor. He'd be back, even if he had to force Raposa to fashion him another iron paw and a tail by the end. His name would need a rethink.

"Permission to enter sah! I bear bally good scoff doncha know..."

Jeshal looked up at the sound of the voice, an ear flicking with caution. Rolling up the map and tucking it under his arm, he got up and crossed to the door. He recognised the shape of the silhouette even before he opened it.

"Ah, Redford. Thought it were Ashpaw wi' such tongues." The copper todd stepped back and gestured for Tomias to come in. He eyed the plates in the young fox's paws. "Ye best watch y'self, matey. If ye ain't careful, I'll 'ave ter demote ye ter Cook again." He gave Redford one of his typically enigmatic smiles, but there was a hint of warmth to it. The ship's bell clanged outside as the current watcher of the hourglass announced the allotted time.

The captain's expression took a grim turn, almost melancholy.

"'Las, I fear I'll 'ave ter eat it cold. Time be not our friend t'day." He looked back at Tomias. "Ye've got brains, Redford. Ye'll be even better when ye learn ter use 'em outside o' yer comfort zones."

Jeshal stepped out of the cabin and began calling out as he rounded the steps to the helm.

"All paws an' claws ter the masts an' capstan, ready 'er fer makin' sail, beasties! Wave ter yer mammies an' sweet'earts while ye still can, for ye'll get no tenderness from me! Hidebeasts, haul 'er out the Harbour!"



Brek Larks
Brek had returned moments before, where he had gone no one knew. But he was back and making sure the crew knew him as Bosun. The todd marched to the ratlines and climbed, "Alright ye landlubbers, they don't call us Navy-beasts for nothing! Release the lines, we're not bringing any of Bully with us!" Below docksbeasts untied the lines and tossed them to beasts on deck, some of the crew had untied lines from the docks themselves and climbed the lines back aboard.

"Righty then, Chaos! Get your head out of the rum barrel! Someone fetch me Master Darkhedge! We wouldn't want him to miss out on his duties!" Brek settled down and marched towards the captain, his tone humbled in respect to his superior, "Would you need me to do anything else, Captain?"


Jeshal the Ironclaw
Jeshal looked sidelong at Brek, his, what may now be considered formal, smirk clear upon his face once more.

"Aye, Master Larks. Ye can tell me what ye make o' the crew's current disposition. It ain't like I be givin' 'em much ter go on wi' this mission so far, but once we get there 'twill be a diff'rent matter."

He took the map from under his elbow and gave the Tookumberry Keys section a cursory glance.

"When ye're done, if Redford ain't finished noseyin' about me cabin, I be wantin' a word with 'im. So, lad, anythin' ter report?"


Xhavek Mokorai
Xhavek stood leaning almost lazily against the wheel of the ship controlling the ponderous galleon's movement easily with just his elbows. His keen eyes found a few fishboats that were making a good headway to get their much smaller craft out of the much heavier and far more deadly Golden Hide. Xhavek snickered, he always did enjoy the power of feeling a mighty war ship heed your every command. He could see why some ship's captain's preferred to do this job themselves.

"Cap'n, zir! Tiz all clear zailing and fine day it iz to be out on ze zea again!" shouted the short reptile. For it was a fine day indeed, the sun was shining, the skies were clear and the wind was at their backs. Xhavek sighed happily, this was why he had come to love the sea. Straightening Xhavek minutely adjusted the wheel's position then held her steady a nice straight shot out of the harbour Navy handbook perfect.


Brek Larks
"When ye're done, if Redford ain't finished noseyin' about me cabin, I be wantin' a word with 'im. So, lad, anythin' ter report?"

"Just the norm sir," Brek replied casually. "Redford and Rogue still coddling each other like kits’ blankies, Khan's normal grumpiness, Master Darkhedge's frequent disappearances and his 'spawn's' annoying appearances. And we can't forget Chaos's infamous foolish-drunkenness and laziness. All I can really say on me part is that the only changes are those who are new are plainly new and those who are old are gettin' worse, if ye follow me sir."

Brek gave a quick smirk then a nod displaying he was done.



Spitecloud Darkhedge
Spitecloud had arrived not a moment too soon. The ship was just releasing the ropes. He scurried up a rope and if anyone was watching, vanished suddenly.

From his hiding place, he heard every word Brek said. It wasn't that he was spying, far from that actually. He just liked to hear that Stripe had been a goodbeast and not caused trouble. When the brat got in trouble, it was often when Spite wasn't around to chuck him overboard. He often was given the blame when Stripe got in trouble, just cause the little weasel called him "daddy spie" and folks assumed he was responsible for him. This often led to Spite having to kill somebeast that Stripesail had irritated.

"Redford and Rogue still coddling each other like kits’ blankies, Khan's normal grumpiness, Master Darkhedge's frequent disappearances and his 'spawn's' annoying appearances. And we can't forget Chaos's infamous foolish-drunkenness and laziness."

If his face would have shown anything, it would have shown deep annoyance. So the little terror had been irritating. He dearly wished somebeast would just chuck the brat overboard when they passed some sharks. And with that thought process done, he vanished again.


Jeshal the Ironclaw
Watching the Golden Hide’s progress as she made her way out of the bay, Jeshal absorbed his bosun’s words. He considered Armina and Tomias’s relationship with a certain discomfort. Like many born pirate, he had not known love, if that was what those two had. He had teased vixens at taverns, fooled around in his adolescence, and done questionable things of recent days when drunk and exhausted, but true company had evaded him. It seemed like a dangerous thing, such deep affection. Rogue and Redford’s sentiments might get them both killed. Then again, it might spur them to fight harder.

“Very good, Master Larks,” said Jeshal, once the report was done. “Be on the lookout fer anyone o’ low morale. Me secrecy might well cause disturbances. If ye be thinkin’ trouble be brewin’, or if somebeast be lookin’ like they be rather throwin’ ‘emselves ter the fishies, I want ter know. Oh an’ make sure everybeast be suitably sharp in the vicinity o’ their weapons afore we reach the Tookums. Let’s be sayin’ this may not be a friendly sojourn.”

The Ironclaw’s ear flicked at the sound Xhavek’s voice not a few feet away.

"Cap'n, zir! Tiz all clear zailing and fine day it iz to be out on ze zea again!"

Jeshal grinned and sauntered over to his second mate. He slapped his iron paw gently onto the monitor’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“Aye that it be, Mokorai. Once again, it be good ter ‘ave ye back with us. There be not many beasts on board that I’d ‘ave as much confidence in fer such a mission as this. If ye’d been called ashore, I’d be worryin’ fer the status o’ me favour with ‘is Grace.” He smirked and kept his eyes forward, watching his crew skittering about the deck. “Tell me honest, Xhavek,” the copper fox added quietly. “If we faced foes tougher than yer average woodlanders, d’yer think they stand a chance?”



Brek Larks/Rijard M. Chaos
((Auto approved))


“Very good, Master Larks. Be on the lookout fer anyone o’ low morale. Me secrecy might well cause disturbances. If ye be thinkin’ trouble be brewin’, or if somebeast be lookin’ like they be rather throwin’ ‘emselves ter the fishies, I want ter know. Oh an’ make sure everybeast be suitably sharp in the vicinity o’ their weapons afore we reach the Tookums. Let’s be sayin’ this may not be a friendly sojourn.”

Brek gave a nod and turned from the captain and returned to make sure everybeast was doing their work, everybeast but one that is. "Oi! Brek boosen, I've foun' the Darkhedge fello!" The voice that belonged to the beast was unmistakeable and the todd had wished it was another, but still he met Rijard.

The kit weasel squirming and kicking in Rijard's poor grasp was not the Master Darkhedge Brek had hoped for at all, not even the right species. "Chaos, you blunt! I don't want this kit I meant for the other Darkhedge!"

A expression of confusion and a tilt of the head, Rijard dimly replied, "Othah Darkhedge?... Oh! Yoo means the dar'ne'! I'll look fer him!" Rijard dropped the kit who began to wander around and took off.

Brek grumbled, he didn't at all despise younger beasts, in fact he was probably the only beast in the Navy that was closer in age to them. But this weasel had caused problems since the day he was brought aboard. The brown todd began looking around for a beast to watch the kit but they all were busy, then an idea came to him.

He followed the kit's short path of wandering and caught him before he could annoy any beast. He grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "Hello there," Brek put on his best smile and talked in a friendly tone "I don't believe we've been introduced. My name's Brek, what's yours?"

The kit spoke something, Brek was unsure whether it was his name or some random gibberish that children say. Brek ignored it and moved on to the second part of his plan, "You like cookies?" he asked and reached into one of his pockets. He produced a small oatmeal cube he saved from breakfast and waved it in front of the kit's snout. "I've got a cookie right here but a busy beast like me has no time to eat it, but I would be glad to share it with you if you help me with something," Brek's smile grew and showed his teeth as he waited for the kit's reply.



Xhavek Mokorai
"Tell me honest, Xhavek,” the copper fox added quietly. “If we faced foes tougher than yer average woodlanders, d’yer think they stand a chance?"

Xhavek left one claw on the wheel and the other reached up to stroke his outermost facial scar, his black claw glinting dully in the sunlight. He sighed and shook his head slighty.

"I honeztly couldn't tell you, Cap'n. I figure zome of ze new beaztz could handle zemzelvez vell enough but it'z been too long for zome of ze older vunz zey might be out of practize. If I had a veek or zo to vork vith zem I'd be more confident but in zeir current ztate? I juzt don't know."

Xhavek turned to regard his captain cooly. Jeshal was as he ever was, shifty eyed but seemingly honest, always holding something back. Xhavek couldn't help but grin, this familiar face was one thing that hadn't changed and glad was the short monitor lizard for it. Too much had changed nowadays.

"Zough I figure zat betveen ze two of uz ve can get zeze lazybeaztz up to znuff in a hurry."



Stripesail Darkhedge
"Ow! Lee me goe meanie Mar'in lee Sripe go now! Yew meanie beasie, I cat yew ap an' tur' ye inoo livr. LET SRIPE GEW NO!"

Stripe had been caught by the pine marten drinking some grog then spitting it at other beasts, then disappearing when they turned around.

Suddenly he had been grabbed and lifted up by the pine marten.

As he was brought before Brek, he squirmed and kicked, almost getting loose one time but still the pine marten kept hold of him.

"Oi! Brek boosen, I've foun' the Darkhedge fello!"

"Chaos you blunt! I don't want this kit I meant for the other Darkhedge!"

Suddenly being dropped down onto the deck, Stripe dusted himself off and started walking away. Just as he was about to annoy another beast who was takin a snooze a paw came down on his shoulder and turned him around.

"I don't believe we've been introduced. My name's Brek, what's yours?"

The little weasel looked up at the fox. He really wasn't as tall as most of the other crewmembers.

"Me nam's Sripesal,” he mumbled, and looked around for something else to get into. Suddenly he smelled, a... cookie?

"You like cookies?"

The little fox reached into his pocket and pulled out... the cookie!!!

Waving the cookie in front of his snout, the fox said: "I've got a cookie right here but a busy beast like me has no time to eat it, but I would be glad to share it with you if you help me with something."

Ooh! Free cookie! And oatmeal! And all he had to do was help the fox out with something.

"Yeesss!!! Me wil' hep! Me wil' hep for cookey cookey cookey cookey... (cookey x until someone shuts his trap.)


Brek Larks
"... cookey cookey cookey cookey,"

The kit had been repeating this line over and over. Brek decided he would wait until the weasel ran out of breath and Brek would continue but the kit seemed to have no “off button".

Again Brek brought the tiny weasel under his control by putting his arm back on his shoulder. "Whoa there, lad. Don't hurt yeself. Now all you gotta do for this cookie is help me find your daddy, you think you can do that?"

Of course Brek thought himself clever in exploiting Darkhedge's only weakness by using his "son" as a bloodhound. From the short time Brek learned that Stripe found Spite no matter how sneaky he was.

"It will be easy," Brek went on, "Like a game of Hide and Seek!"


Stripesail Darkhedge/Spitecloud Darkhedge
"cookey cookey cookey cookey-"

The fox interrupted Stripe right after he had finished his 29th time of "cookey".

"Whoa there, lad. Don't hurt yeself. Now all you gotta do for this cookie is help me find your daddy, you think you can do that?"

Find, Spite? Ooh, that would be hard. He had gotten on his dad's bad side earlier that morning, with a piece of cloth and a cup of water, (don't ask what he did) and had to dodge his axe.

Suddenly the fox went on: "It will be easy, Like a game of Hide and Seek!"

Hide and seek? OH BOY! Stripe loved to play hide and seek. He was almost as good at it as he was good at irritating other beasts.

"Shor! Me lak had in sek!"

He said, and closed his eyes and started counting.

"Won, too, ree, for, 'ive, sis, seten, ate, nin, tin! Redie o' nat, her Iy cam!"

He looked about wildly, looking from place to place. Then he remembered one time he had "played hide and seek" with Spite. He looked up and saw the fox staring intently at the sea, for the usual unknown reason.

"HAY! DADDY SPIE! I FOUND YE!!!yE HID AN' I SOOKED AN I FOD YE! YAAAY!!!"

He screamed, as loudly as possible.

______________________________________________________________________


Spite had been wondering when they would arrive when suddenly he was jostled from his thoughts with a loud shout from below. As usual, the little brat had made him lose his balance and fall, just managing to grab hold of something for 3 seconds, only to suddenly lose his grasp and land right beside the little brat on his chest.

______________________________________________________________________


The fox fell and grabbed hold of something, only to lose his grip and fall to the deck in a heap. As usual, Stripe thought this was highly amusing.

"HAAHAAHAAHAA! HEEHEEHEEHEE! Spie fal and crash! HEEHEEHEEHEE!"

And with that said, he climbed up onto Spite’s back and sat down, turning towards the fox.

"COOKEY PLASE!!!"


Brek Larks
Brek watched the youngster find Master Darkhedge as easily as it was to smell fresh cooked bacon. Amused, Brek smiled as the dark-clad fox fell to the deckboards. It seemed that Spite was the only one who would wear black in warming days of Smarch, this was a bad idea since the sun would cook him inside. But Brek guessed he didn't mind until it was deep summer.

Stripe then climbed onto Spite's back and turned to Brek. ""COOKEY PLASE!!!" The kit screamed so loud it could've woken any sea legend.

Brek pawed the cookie over to Stripe and knelt down close to Spite's face. "Well, Mr. Sneakyfox," Brek spoke in a mocking/authoritative voice, "as part of this crew you've got duties to do. And hiding is no way to get out of them. I know you're quite sneaky during the night, but in case ye haven't noticed its day time. If you're so settled for hiding from work I suggest ye become nocturnal and join the night shift."

Brek stood up and his voice lost the mockery. "As for now, I've got the perfect job for ye. You've proven yourself quite a climber when it comes to the ship's hull, so from now on until we find a more suiting job you're on Barnacle Duty." Brek stepped to the side and lifted what seemed to be a cleaning kit. A small harpoon, hatchet, and piece of injury cloth all sat in a medium tall bucket. He dropped the removal kit before Spite. "I suggest you get out there now before we get into any more dangerous waters. Be mighty hard cleaning when we're in a reef."

Brek stepped aside again and leaned on the bottom of a mast. He would stay there until Spite got up and to his duty.


Jeshal the Ironclaw
((It's just a jump to the left...))

The week could not have passed more quickly for the captain reluctant to arrive at what he feared may be his last destination. Once they had reached the Tookumberry Keys, Jeshal had revealed enough of the plan for his crew to know they were set for an unexplored island, with potentially hostile inhabitants. Giving the isle a wide berth, the Golden Hide sailed around it twice in order that they study the layout.

Silhouettes could be seen moving about the beaches, a few up on the cliffs too. From the look of them they were armed, some marching in patrols, others standing at a fixed post. It was a reasonably well-fortified place with no visible sign of a settlement. The reconnaissance complete, the Ironclaw called for the Hide to sail away, hoping to give the mysterious creatures the illusion that they were leaving for good.

They made berth at a small isle south of the target. Again, Jeshal summoned all paws to be on deck.

"As ye may be aware, mateys, this be our checkpoint. We'll be venturin' ter that place an' goin' ter see what it be hidin'. Sneakiness be of the optimum import'nce. We'll be takin' the longboats in when the night be darkest. Me problem lies in choosin' where 'tis we be enterin'."

Jeshal leaned against the rail of the quarterdeck, casting his eyes seriously over the beasts in his charge.

"There be three options in the form o' three tunnels set within that island that we could make out. We can be only choosin' the one, for there ain't enough of us ter go splittin' up, an' if one lot gets caught, we be riskin' the boats fer the rest. The first tunnel be where the isle dips inward. 'Tis sheltered from view, but 'alf underwater, so we'd be 'avin' ter swim an' who knows what be in there. The second sits on the top o' the cliffs below the sentries, but we'd need ter climb an' 'ope we weren't spotted. Mind ye, those sentries ain't likely ter get too close ter the edge for fear o' fallin'. We stand a chance o' stayin' out o' sight there too."

Captain Ironclaw straightened himself up, not wanting his posture to appear defeatist.

"Thirdly, there be a tunnel directly 'pon the beach where we'd be first arrivin'. We'd be sittin' ducks fer a few moments, but wi' the right timin', we could steal across when the patrols switch an' get ter that'n much quicker. Why ain't I makin' the choices as Cap'n? I want ye ter be certain that yer lives be not just in my paws, but yer own. Dangerous missions call fer consideration, an' so 'tis that I put it ter the deck. Which cave? Discuss, an' then... vote!"

He would show her. If this really was a mission to get him killed, he'd watch for sabotage. Let them choose how it would happen, and the Ironclaw would prepare.



Tametrat Klanted
"As ye may be aware, mateys, this be our checkpoint. We'll be venturin' ter that place an' goin' ter see what it be hidin'. Sneakiness be of the optimum import'nce. We'll be takin' the longboats in when the night be darkest. Me problem lies in choosin' where 'tis we be enterin'."

As the captain told about each of the three tunnels, Tam listened intently. He had been pulled aboard a few hours before they had reached the Tookums.

"An' so 'tis that I put it ter the deck. Which cave? Discuss, an' then... vote!"

As the fox finished talking, Tam thought about it for a few moments, not quite sure which path he liked better. It didn't appear that Spite was around but you never could tell with the dark fox. He was probably hiding somewhere close by, thinking 'bout it by himself, as he usually did, he mused. He noticed with a small smile the little weasel that followed him around all the time was actually behaving, a truly rare occasion. He was probably feeling the importance of the mission finally.

The other crewbeasts were discussing it amongst themselves nervously, and even the captain looked a tad bit nervous.

With his mind made up on his decision, he waited patiently for the others to finish and have the voting.


Brek Larks
Brek broke off from the group and began to pace, he always reasoned better when pacing. "If we go by the lower tunnels," he thought to himself, "we'd have to swim. We don't know the danger if there is any but we'd have to go underwater. But some of the crew aren't the best swimmers while some are, few would actually be able to get to the other side safely.

"For going on the beach, all we need is perfect timing. Everybeast will need to know the seriousness of this quest or we'd be doomed. One slip in the sand or a pawless beast stepping on a seashell and it’s over.

"And for the cliffs, we have many good climbers: Wisp, Rogue, and Darkhedge. They could easily repel down to the sentries.” The ability seemed easy enough for most of the crew, hardly any would have a problem, and those who did would have to stay behind. But the crew needed to be stealthy, and to wear any clothes they had that would help them blend into the rocks. Imagine a red clad figure flying down from grey walls. And one slip meant they could fall and ruin the entire quest.

A heavy burden was on Ironclaw and Brek now saw why he had left it to the crew to decide. Either way there would be issues, and they needed a plan for each. Brek marched back over to the crew and raised his voice over the discussion. "It seems every way we go there will be obstacles, so before we vote I suggest some of you make a plan for each route and we'll vote to see which plan and which route. I can assure you I won't be moved towards any choice until I'm convinced we all will be able to execute that plan." Brek looked across the crewbeasts and nodded. "Carry on," he said and he moved throughout the crowd, trying to overhear any plans being shared.


Xhavek Mokorai
Xhavek stroked his outermost scar over his eye, (something which was becoming a bit of a habit with him when thinking), bemusedly. Not a single one of those choices did he like. The underwater tunnel could easily be made by about half the crew and the rest would just have to pray. The cliff could be done easily if done right. Unfortunately, it would hinge entirely on the stealthiness of the crew. As for the beach, that was far too open and even if they managed to get to the forest it'd be dark and no matter how hard they try that many beasts moving in the woodlands are going to make noise and noise attracts arrows in this sort of situation.

Xhavek sighed exasperatedly and leaned against the wheel where he had spent the majority of the journey. He didn't like this set-up at all, it smelt of some kind of inside knowledge. Xhavek glared narrowly at his captain. It would be just like Jeshal to hide everything from them until the last minute. The short, scarred monitor shook his head slowly. Jeshal should not do that any more than absolutely necessary. It didn't help build trust between him and the crew.

Xhavek grunted as he straightened and walked calmly towards the ironpawed todd, the long black claws on his feet rasping quietly against the deck. He stood just behind and to the left of Jeshal and spoke quietly. "Captain, I don't like ziz. Zere are to many openingz in zeze approachez. I don't zee vhy ve don't look around for a vhile and get a read on ze enemiez movementz before ve go charging in," the pale-eyed lizard chuckled mirthlessly. "You know I'm ze firzt beazt in line for a good zcrap but zomething tellz me ve don't vant to be going head-to-head vith zeze ztrangerz."

Xhavek stepped past Ironclaw to lean against the railing and look out at the muttering crew. "I alzo don't zee vhy ve don't uze a zree-pronged attack and take all zree routez and take ze enemy by zurprize. However of ze zree I think ze undervater tunnel to be our bezt bet. Zertainly ve don't know vhat'z on ze other zide but zat'z vhy ve zend our bezt zvimmerz through firzt zen have zem report back and if it provez to not be an option ve can alvayz take ze other routez."

Xhavek turned slowly to stare directly into Jeshal Ironclaw's eyes with an unblinking and unflinching glare. "Vhat do you zink?"


Jeshal the Ironclaw
As Xhavek spoke, Jeshal did not turn. He gazed without focus over the murmuring crew, but listened to the monitor's every word. His secrecy had made Mokorai uncomfortable and now, quite rightly, he was worried that his captain was once again holding something back. After voicing his opinion, Xhavek glared into Jeshal's face. The todd could almost feel the burn.

Jeshal let out a visible sigh, but it was not of annoyance. He shifted to meet the monitor's eyes.

"We be more alike than ye think, Mokorai. Faced wi' such choices, 'twould be me pleasure ter pick all three, but the trouble bein'... we don't know 'ow many creatures be on that island. Split us off, an' a group could run into more'n they can 'andle. They'd 'ave nowhere to run save to find the rest o' the band an' get us all in 'ot water. Surrounded by sea, we don't 'ave the luxury o' retreat 'less we all leave together. Furthermore, I don' trust some o' those buggers not ter leave us stranded. All together we be strongest, thinks I."

He gave the crowd another glance. Many of them were already looking up to the quarterdeck, awaiting the vote.

"What be my opinion?" the Ironclaw said quietly. "Underwater same as you. The cliffs be treacherous, an' the beach be too open. Trouble bein' – fer Navy beasts, we sure 'old a lot o' water-hatin' dunder'eads."

Jeshal cast his attention back to the deck.

"Time be up, beasties. All those in favour o' the tunnel on the beach, say aye...!"

((And he'll repeat the question for the other two routes. Three tunnels. One beach, one cliff, one half underwater. Put yer paws up!))


Colonel Khan
Khan was in his element. The prospect of an assault on an enemy stronghold had worked wonders on him in the past week; his gait had become swifter and his tone of voice less argumentative. Even his stoop had noticeably diminished. Somehow Khan managed to smuggle an amazing assortment of gear from his trunk without anyone once spotting him open it; he now had a full set of combat fatigues stained with dark splotches to create a sort of camouflage, a dull iron helmet that would reflect very little light, and a few lines of kohl on his cheeks and below his eyes. His sword was newly sharpened, the hilt polished. He was once again ready for battle.

Almost ready, that was.

"'Gates-blas'ed boots," he growled, tugging at the heel. He was on his bed, trying with all his might to pull the stubborn combat wear over his footpaw. It was caught on his heelpad, unwilling to pull over the rough grey calloused skin. Another tug only moved it a fraction of an inch. "Blas'," Khan swore again, trying to stand on the boot. It felt awkward, having one leg tilt off to the left and leaning over it. With a loud grunt Khan managed to press with enough force that the leather finally gave way, allowing his paw to slide in. Two seconds of boot-tying later, Khan was up and out the door.

Unfortunately, that mishap with the boot had cost him his say in the forum. Khan listened in dismay as the captain called for a vote just as Khan was emerging from belowdecks. "'Old it! 'Old it!" Khan hollered, waving his paw. Having bought himself a few seconds, Khan drew up a mental image of the island. He remembered the staggered reports about three cave entrances: one set on the beach, one up on the cliffs, and one set so low that it was half-flooded at most times. That had to be what they were discussing.

Khan's thoughts travelled over the spots where he knew the caves to be. The waterlogged cave he gave a brief moment of consideration before dismissing it; by the time they got through it they would all be soaked, freezing and half-drowned, not prime condition for fighting. Considering the load of sops on the Hide, that was not something Khan would want to put them through. The cave he dismissed for the same reason. None of the ship's weaklings would be up for the climb, and any scuffling noises would sound as loud in the silence as a forty-piece marching band.

Khan carefully examined the beach. It was difficult to say how it would be defended based on its current condition. Khan gave himself a moment to put himself in his enemy's boots. They had just seen an enemy vessel make a sweep of the island, probably for reconnaissance. That would step up alertness a bit. They would probably place torches on the beach to shed some light. The problem was, they could do it two different ways. They could place the torches in the centre of the beach, to illuminate a large area for the sentries farther back on the beach. However, those torches would also blind the enemy a little with their brilliance, blacking out a few of the shadows. If they moved right, the assault team could sneak right under their noses.

The worst-case scenario was that they would place torches directly at the cave entrance. This meant that guards standing just outside of the cave entrance would be able to see nearly everything on the beach, and sneaking into the cave without being spotted would be near impossible. The mere possibility of it made Khan's stomach knot apprehensively. Still, it was the only plan with a spitting chance in 'Gates, disheartening as it sounded.

Khan turned, only haven taken half a minute to decide. "This'n 'll work," he growled. He put up a scar-knotted paw. "Aye!"


Tomias Redford
For what was most likely the first time in ages, Tomias had actually finished his paperwork and his desk was actually clear. Sucking absentmindedly on a finger which had what must be at least 3 papercuts in it, he glanced around his desk, to make sure that he definitely /was/ finished. Great! No more paperwork, and since the ship was out at sea, the chances of another large amount of workload was pretty slim. So Tomias grabbed the book* he was reading, and lay back on his bed and began to read it. Of course, as Lady Fate was so good at messing with him, he was barely halfway down the page when the bell rang, and he heard Jeshal calling for all the crew onto the deck. Giving a slight groan of exasperation, Tomias pulled himself out of his bed and out onto the deck.

Ignoring the fact that he was hardly looking his best, seeing as he had within about 15 seconds to grab the nearest shirt he had and head up onto the deck. His headfur was slightly ruffled, but he normally had it spiked in the casual "bed-head" look anyway, so not that much out of place. Standing near the front of the crowd, Tomias folded his arms and listened to Jeshal´s plan. His ears flicked in the direction of Khan, as he spoke out. The older todd was really beginning to grate on his nerves, but most of the time he did speak sense, and his military knowledge would be useful in this situation.

Tomias´s mind was already abuzz with ideas, which unfortunately caused him to not fully pay attention, and lose the chance to speak his mind. However, it seemed that Khan inadvertently aided him, seeing as his outburst bought some more time. Tomias raised his paw.

"I got an idea Captain." He stepped out of the crowd, towards Jeshal.

"Well it seems that the beach idea might be the easiest one to get to, however it does leave the crew who choose that route as sitting ducks out in the open. Perhaps, if we were to use the longboats, not for sailing in, but the groups hold it upside down above their heads and walk under the water with them. So the upside-down longboats give them air, and yet we still retain somewhat of an element of surprise, seeing as the enemy wouldn´t expect the landings to be made from under the water. And of course, the longboats will then provide cover for the crew once they make the beach landing.

Tomias smiled slightly, hoping that this wasn´t one of those ‘it sounded cooler in my head’ ideas.



Kerri Quilane
"Excuse me."

Once more a ship-wide discussion was interrupted by Kerri, who never seemed to have had anything to do with the situation until the opportunity called for it. Grabbing the bone-thin wrist of the skinny ferret beside him before it could raise too far to appear as if in support the young todd's idea, Kerri wrenched the ash-brown paw back down in time to taking a step forward as the crowd turned upon him, eerily youthful face turned into a bright smile and pale eyes aglitter. Lin, amidst the talking, mouthed a sad 'ouch'.

"I'm afraid there may be a little hitch in that plan, sirrah; when you consider how far we are out at this moment, we'd have to walk a few miles-weighted down, in that case, with only half a boat full of air. If we did not suffocate first in the long time that would take, wouldn't the pressure kill us all to boot? I mean, I'm certain that it would look impressive – I think the beasts who attend the galleries in the City would find crushed organs and blood swirls in the ocean to be pretty beautiful a sight – but I for one do not wish to take the risk. I'm not very clever when it comes to those kinds of calculations, but we might have to test it first, yes?"

Giggling gleefully as if he had just won over a major debate in parliament rather than simply adding an opinion, the pale-furred tom switched his crystalline stare to the captain and blinked, still smiling.


Ponce McIntyre
With the hubbub of the crew all around him Ponce found it hard to concentrate. It seemed as if each member of the ship had an idea or concern and all of them voiced at once. Slipping to the back of the crowd he reached into his pockets and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper and a small stick of charcoal.


Ponce always found it easier to work on a problem if he could write everything out. First he wrote down the three options the captain had given them, the cove, the cliffs, and the beach. Then he began to list the pros and cons under each heading. After a few seconds of thought he looked down at what he had written and came to a realization. Each tunnel had the same amount of danger in their approach, it was not the direction that mattered but the plan of entry that was important.

With this in mind he began to quickly rearrange the lists. Both the cove and the cliffs were difficult to approach, any mistakes made could mean immediate failure or death but they were also the more stealthier options. The caves on the cliff and beach were certain entrances to the island defences but they were also guarded, the cove was an uncertainty, anything could be on the other side. The beach was open which was both a pro and a con, with the cove and cave even a successful landing would place them in tight quarters with no room to move except forward or back the way they came, Ponce knew the crew would fight if push came to shove but he would much rather have a wide beach at his back than a cliff or flooded cove.

In the end it was the plan that mattered, and to Ponce that meant that the beach was the better choice. With the cove and cliffs there was much less room for error. On the beach if something went wrong it would be far easier to adapt to the problem.
Looking up from his scribblings Ponce realized that the noise had died down and it seemed the vote was about to take place. Just in time.


Jeshal the Ironclaw
((Weeny auto of presumably Brek and Xhavek))

As the voting took place, Jeshal watched the counts of paws and took in second opinions of the amounts of 'aye's from a couple of bystanding officers. Secretly his heart sank at the settling of decisions upon the beach majority. He was glad they had not chosen the cliffs, but to step out boldly into the open, even if they tried to be quiet about it felt like suicide. However, fair was fair, even if it turned out the whole crew were secretly out to kill him. The beach it was, then.

"I got an idea, Captain." Tomias stepped out and made himself heard. "Perhaps, if we were to use the longboats, not for sailing in, but the groups hold it upside down above their heads and walk under the water with them. So the upside-down longboats give them air, and yet we still retain somewhat of an element of surprise, seeing as the enemy wouldn´t expect the landings to be made from under the water. And of course, the longboats will then provide cover for the crew once they make the beach landing."

The suggestion was slandered quickly by Quilane, who pointed out the dangers with his dry, yet perturbingly subtle sarcasm.

"Yer thoughts be noted, Redford," Jeshal remarked. "Whilst it be a fine tactic in some situations, Quilane be correct in 'is observations. 'Tis too far an' too deep fer anybeast ter 'walk' ter the other island, an' once we're afloat we can't submerge. 'Tis possible the sentries will see us, but 'tis me 'ope that they'll think we thought twice an' went 'ome. Dark will be our cover, an' we must be silent as we can with the oars."

The Ironclaw's gauntlet gripped the rail and he took a pause before continuing.

"So it be decided. We land on the beach an' make fer the tunnel at its far edge. Take yer best weapons, but make 'em light. Don't weigh yerselves down. A clumsy beast or a slow beast be a dead one. If we arrive an' find they 'ave an army, listen fer the retreat call. Get back in the boats as fast as yer paws will take ye."

Jeshal's renowned smile lighted upon his face, entirely inappropriate for what he was about to say.

"We be livin' in a soft age o' the Imperium, mateys. We be gettin' cosy beneath our superiors. Let it be known now that this night marks yer initiation under me captaincy. If anybeast puts the crew in jeopardy from carelessness or stupidity, they will be left be'ind. If under fortuitous circumstances they manage ter escape with us, they'll wish they'd been left be'ind. There be no powerplay in this mission. Whilst we be ashore, ye listen ter me an' me alone. If somethin' 'appens ter me, look to Mokorai."

The copper todd did not even meet the monitor's gaze.

"From 'ere on, answer ter Xhavek Mokorai as the Golden 'Ide's First Mate. Now get yer weapons an' get lowerin' the dinghys, ye lollopin' mousemaids. Move!"


Xhavek Mokorai
"From 'ere on, answer ter Xhavek Mokorai as the Golden 'Ide's First Mate."

The words hit the short monitor like a physical blow, though he did well to hide it. First mate? It was logical yes but never had Xhavek ever sought such a position. For that matter he had not sought out any sort of position whatsoever. It had just happened naturally that way. He had come out on top in the view of the beast in charge a few times and there it was an officer's jacket on his coatrack, (which was rarely touched).

"Now get yer weapons an' get lowerin' the dinghys, ye lollopin' mousemaids. Move!"

This sent the short lizard into action and he turned and he spotted his blood brother in the crowd of the crew, Wisp, who nodded back and dashed belowdecks to get both their gear. This fight was likely to be ugly and very, very quick, for there was no question in the short reptile's mind that a fight it was indeed.

Xhavek stared evenly at Jeshal's back and stepped forward to stand beside him. "Captain. A few zuggeztionz. Firzt ve both know zat if everybeazt anzwerz directly to you zat you'll mark yourzelf out az an offizer and if zeze beaztz don't rezpect ze Rulez of Engagement zen you're going to be ze firzt creature to catch an arrow in ze znout. Zecond I zuggezt ve make ziz raid az piratez out for a little midnight bloodletting. Have ze crew remove all zignz zat ve are from Vulpinzula and vhen in battle have zem shout a few pirate var criez. Third and mozt improtant, let me take point."

Xhavek grinned viciously, his razor sharp teeth glinting like his bitterly cold eyes.



Stripesail Darkhedge
"So it be decided. We land on the beach an' make fer the tunnel at its far edge."

Stripe had finally reached the boredom level where he started irritating everybeast when the vote was counted and a decision was made. Awww... he thought as he was about to drop some seaweed he had picked up (don't ask where) onto Ponce's head. Oh well! No need to keep it, he thought and let it drop on Ponce's head and started walking away.



Colonel Khan
Colonel Khan could not be described as being 'glad' the beach assault was chosen; a closer adjective would be 'satisfied'. It was the best out of a variety of bad plans, all of which had their high moment when they were still stewing in the captain's brain. Strangely enough, Khan believed things would get better from there on out, if only because there was no other way to go.

Thankfully most of the crew seemed to have reached the same conclusion as Khan, albeit at their own slow pace. Redford at first wanted to weigh the crew down and walk across the ocean floor to their target, an idea Quilane quickly nixed. Both Mokorai and the captain still seemed attached to the water route, but were either too democratic or too afraid to overrule the crew. The rest of the crew either kept silent or simply stated their neutrality. When it came to a vote, however, the decision seemed clear; they would launch an amphibious landing assault.

As soon as Jeshal announced the decision (and Mokorai's promotion, which came as little of a surprise to Khan) the ship was a flurry of preparation, beasts rushing about arming themselves or readying the longboats. Khan ignored all of this, figuring that there would be time to focus on it later. At that time, he was more occupied with listening in on Mokorai's comments to the captain. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he processed what he regarded as a few of Mokorai's poorer recommendations, and at the lizard's suggestion that he be placed at the front of the assault party, Khan found himself forced to intervene.

"Lemme clue ye in 'ere, since yer obviously use' ter another type o' ba'le 'n we 'ave 'ere," Khan growled, forcing himself into yet another conversation without invitation. "Mebbe in yer tribe th' champion is 'llowed ter go ou' an' figh' by 'imself 'gainst 'owever many wanna take 'im, bu' in this land we figh' a li'l diff'rently. Ye kin take a few beas's on yerself, tha' I know, bu' even a champion 'as 'is limits, an' if this turns sour we'll reach tha' limit migh'y fas'. Bes' ter keep yer in th' center o' th' pack, shielded from any stray bolts 'r ambushes. Yer jist as valuable as the Cap'n in this venture, ye know." He didn't bother saying 'no offence' to the Ironclaw; Khan had yet to utter a word not intended to offend.

Any other beast might have realized their precarious position by now, but Khan was either unwilling or incapable of humbling himself at this point. "As fer yer splittin' command, I agree," he said through clenched teeth (apparently admitting a good idea on the part of anyone else was a problem for the Colonel); "bu' I think i' shoul' be three leaders 'stead o' two. Too easy fer two beas's ter be taken ou' an' decimate th' chain o' command. Yer migh' wan' ter put 'nother o' yer officers in charge there, or anybeas' competent 'nough fer tha' matter." His nagging tone made it clear he wasn't only recommending the officers for command.

"As fer posin' as pirates..." Khan proudly ran a paw over the small silver talon embroidered on his shoulder. "I say we gives 'em a name ter curse when they're pullin' themselves from th' wreckage," he said savagely.



Jeshal the Ironclaw
If one looked closely, there was to be seen a profound expression of boredom upon Jeshal’s face as Khan verbally stepped into Mokorai’s path. Of course there were risks in assigning himself as the one authority, but he wasn’t exactly expecting to go running into the middle of the island in a neon beanie. He listened to Khan snarl his own opinions after Xhavek’s, secretly enjoying how personally the veteran was taking this. How was he to know, after all, that if Jeshal died, the copper todd didn’t care who else did.

“Yer suggestions be noted, both of ye. Don’t be thinkin’ that I be goin’ in utterly naïve. In the dark, what enemy can be tellin’ me apart from a disembodied voice in the rabble? The pirate cover be a fine plan, but I deny yer request fer ‘point’, Mokorai, at least from the outward appearance. We appear as equals, a clueless rabble. If we get inter trouble, I be expectin’ ye ter lead the close combatants. A select beast will be assigned ter call the ranged orders. A chosen few, in such an event, would accompany me on a more secretive approach.”

The Ironclaw’s gaze settled firmly upon the Colonel.

“The chain o’ command be ‘oldin’ only one official broken link. If we be unlucky enough ter lose all those ranked right down ter Sorrona an’ ‘er cookin’ ladle, I trust ‘em ter recognise the classes o’ petties an’ swabbers. If all else fails, ‘tis everybeast for ‘isself. Wi’ regard ter the aforementioned broken link, I can think of no better beast ter take up the position…”

Jeshal placed his fur paw gently upon Khan’s shoulder, a grin splitting his face. The captain then tilted his head to look past the old fox. “Miss Armina Rogue!” He barked loud enough to sting the verteran’s ears. “As of now ye be appointed ter Second Mate.”

Whilst the Colonel was processing this information, the Ironclaw turned his attention away from his stupefied promotee and brought his gauntlet lightning-quick to grasp Khan’s muzzle.

“I appreciate ye be used ter walkin’ tall, me ol’ matey, but we be used ter less solid ground out ‘ere. As Navy beasts, we be especially creative when it be comin’ ter those that tread on our paws. Next time ye ‘ave a query with me judgement, pass it through an officer, or at the very least request fer permission. I be almost inclined ter dress ye up as a fishwife fer me pirate-players ter chase. After all, ye be gunnin’ fer bein’ the one ter lead.”

Jeshal’s claws bit down ever so slightly.

“Ye want a name fer us ter curse? Per’aps there be a prudent option, thinks I. What be better suited than Khan?”

No longer grinning, the Ironclaw released the Colonel and stomped down to the maindeck to help make way.


Brek Larks/Rijard M. Chaos
Brek was back in his bunk, doing exactly what the captain had ordered. The brown todd took his time to think his equipment through, this wasn't a raid and he needed to be prepared for unexpected events, but it wasn't a camping trip either. He would need to pack light but ready.

He grabbed a small pack that would go on his always found shoulder to waist belt, though he had outgrown the need for the fashion he still sported it with pride; it had become a trademark of his since he wore it his first season aboard. His trusty tricorn hat he placed on his head before he forgot, but soon it fell off as he packed and he left it on the floor. A new longsword he bought from the market went in a special sheath that sleeved the bottom half but only had a snap release strap for the top. He slung a small round shield he kept for dueling but never used to his back. His trenchcoat he left, the warm weather had come and he had no use for it now.

Before he left Brek grabbed his hat and returned it to his head then emerged among the crew again. He was on the deck in time to overhear Rogue's promotion, though it could've been heard anywhere on the ship. Gates, another runner is in the race now Brek cursed, he didn't even know Armina was eligible for officer. But there was no time for congratulating, his paws moved fast across the deck to help and oversee the longboat's preparation.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Rijard was ready almost after Jeshal's command. He was equipped with his bow and quiver along with his cutlass at his waist. And most importantly his canteen filled with a "fresh" supply of his mixture between rum and Grog. To most beasts it tasted like vomit but Rijard had a catfish's taste buds.

The marten could see Brek already at work on the boats, and the captain was still conversing with the scaly creature and the todd as old as the mud caked to his boots. Rijard saw this as the perfect time for a nap, he took a swig of his drink as he sat down on some netting. Someone would wake him up before they left, wouldn't they?


Ponce McIntyre
"Aurgh!"

Peeling a slimy strand of seaweed off of his snout Ponce briefly considered whipping it back at the little weasel's head. Catching himself he merely wiped some more of the mud from his face and turned to head to his bunk. Right now he needed to concentrate on the job at paw, the captain was relying on his crew to do their jobs and Ponce couldn't get distracted by a little brat's pranks.

Moving swiftly to the lower decks he began to think of what he needed to bring to the island. His axe, of course, was a no-brainer but what else would be useful? He had picked up a small round shield soon after he had signed on the Hide but it was a used and battered one, most likely only good for stopping aerial projectiles if anything. Still it was light enough that it shouldn't impede him even if it didn't help much in combat.

Beyond that Ponce had little else. His tools would be to heavy and probably unnecessary; he had few other options in clothing and nothing different from the off-white shirt and gray trousers he had on now. With a sigh he began to gather his things together when he noticed that the seaweed slime which was still stuck to his fur had stained the handle of his axe. Ponce growled in annoyance and moved to clean the mark off when he stopped suddenly.

A smile slowly crawled across Ponce's face. The little nuisance had actually been unwittingly helpful. With a short laugh Ponce quickly rushed back up to the main deck, there he found the seaweed that he had wiped from his face and picked it up. The slimy green plant stained anything it touched a dark, almost black, green. Ponce had no doubt his face was a mess but there was little time to worry about that now. Quickly he rubbed the seaweed across the head of his axe blacking out the shiny metal, once he was done with that he did the same to the metal parts of the shield.

When not a single glint could be seen, Ponce tucked the axe into his belt and strapped the shield to his back, swearing that if he survived this mission he would clean both implements so well they would seem to be new. Satisfied with his "camouflage" Ponce hurried to help with the boats.



Colonel Khan/Armina Rogue
Khan's indignation wrote itself across his face as the captain ignored all but what Khan judged to be the worst of Xhavek's suggestions and the entirety of Khan's rebuttal. He had known that the Ironclaw was unorthodox (some would even say clueless), but the captain's plan reeked of negligence. Having met many such commanders throughout his years, Khan recognized that this fox was only interested in saving his own tail; the moment that got shaved off, he didn't care how many went with him. Normally Khan would have agreed, but he liked to be the one whose tail stood the least danger of barbering.

"The chain o’ command be 'oldin' only one official broken link. If we be unlucky enough ter lose all those ranked right down ter Sorrona an' 'er cookin' ladle, I trust 'em ter recognise the classes o' petties an' swabbers. If all else fails, 'tis everybeast for 'isself. Wi' regard ter the aforementioned broken link, I can think of no better beast ter take up the position…"

Khan's contemptuous sneer lessened somewhat as the captain placed his paw on the elder's shoulder. At last, it appeared the CO would recognize the immense gift that was Khan's military knowledge and experience! The captain grinned into Khan's face before barking out so loudly that Khan nearly went deaf.

"Miss Armina Rogue! As of now ye be appointed ter Second Mate."

Khan could barely even comprehend what had just happened. By the time his brain had registered that he had been passed over in favor of that obnoxious little femme in the green blouse, Khan's muzzle had been seized in an iron clamp. He briefly tried to struggle out of it before being yanked back into position; as might have been expected, the Ironclaw's metallic grip was strong.

“I appreciate ye be used ter walkin’ tall, me ol’ matey, but we be used ter less solid ground out ‘ere," the Ironclaw warned him. "As Navy beasts, we be especially creative when it be comin’ ter those that tread on our paws. Next time ye ‘ave a query with me judgement, pass it through an officer, or at the very least request fer permission. I be almost inclined ter dress ye up as a fishwife fer me pirate-players ter chase. After all, ye be gunnin’ fer bein’ the one ter lead.”

Khan was too stunned to even struggle against his captor. The grizzled veteran was no stranger to superiors trying to take him down a notch, usually by asserting their dominance, but this went too far. Never had an officer addressed him with such a personal affront as to suggest dressing him up as a fishwife. That comment went beyond the civility Khan believed was his hard-earned right.

The Ironclaw seemed determined to take the emasculation one step further. “Ye want a name fer us ter curse?" he suggested; "Per’aps there be a prudent option, thinks I. What be better suited than Khan?”

The Ironclaw released Khan, his grin now faded. As the CO walked away, Khan stood in continued shock, still trapped by the sheer vulgarity of the captain's words. Beasts flowed about the solitary figure, passing the Colonel's shattered gaze. Gradually the pieces of Khan's mind began to gather, solidifying once more into a definable shape. The lost look in Khan's gaze was replaced by a dangerous resolve. An experienced beast might have called it the vengefulness of the scorned; a darker mind might have called it the beginning of a murder.

----------------------------------------------------

Armina took less time to recover from her promotion than Khan did to recover from being spurned. She had been in the midst of a row with Valentine over how to wrap an oar paddle to muffle the noise when the Ironclaw deftly interrupted, bestowing on the not-quite-eighteen season old the rank of second officer. The argument immediately ceased, giving Armina a few moments to collect her thoughts.

Strangely, the first thought in Armina's head was Tox will be surprised. The second thought was the realization that the teen had just done what no other officer (at least, that she knew of) had done; she had ascended from nothing to being third-in-command of a vessel. That had to be some sort of record. The third thought was more negative in nature, and went along the lines of Tomias won't like this at all.

Ignoring the mental image of a very put-out toddfriend, Armina brought the paused argument to a swift conclusion. "Well, I'm second mate now, so I say we do it my way," she finished. "Now get to it!" Valentine gave her a look before going off to do as she said.

The moment he was gone, Armina followed after the retreating form of Jeshal. She wanted to get about her new job as soon as possible, but she still had one question left. "Excuse me, Captain?" As soon as she was sure she had the captain's full attention, she launched right in. "My new rank..." she began; "Does this mean I get a larger pay?"



Jeshal the Ironclaw
And here began the aftermath.

No sooner had the words flown out of his mouth that Miss Rogue was to leap several levels of office, Jeshal knew it would not have made him popular. With associates in shadowy corners, however, who needed fair? The vixen could not know the workings of the captain's mind. Putting Armina into the ranks was just another step closer to Tanya. Shutting her in an office with paperwork created more opportunities to see the Admiral without interruption – if they ever returned home – and perhaps it would cool some of her significant other's smarm.

Wondering how soon it would be before Khan made a retaliation, the Ironclaw was almost bewildered at the sight of his new second mate.

"Excuse me, Captain? My new rank... does this mean I get a larger pay?"

Jeshal grinned toothily. "Aye, that it does, miss. It also be meanin' ye need ter inspect those boats afore we be gettin' in them, make certain we won't be gettin' our tails wet halfway across. Ye'll be leadin' the ranged attacks once we be ashore. In all other matters, ye may answer directly ter Mokorai. Get to, off'cer."



Armina Rogue
Armina gave a nod to her captain and hurried to obey his orders, suddenly much less argumentative than she usually was. The moment she was certain that the captain was no longer watching her, she ducked behind a ballista to curl into a tight, shivering ball. Her thoughts were whirling with more than two voices and opinions, and she needed a moment to sort herself out.

After several deliberately slow breaths, the shefox's pulse was low enough for her to think coherently. Immediately she started to shift the arguments in her head into positive and negative groups.

The positive: she was an officer now, and thus was immune to many of the codes and rules forced upon the enlisted classes. Theoretically she could get away with all but murder now, and none could tell her off but Jeshal and Xhavek. Better yet, she was an admiral's niece, so she also had some protection by association to Tox. In truth, Tox would be very unlikely to waive any punishment the teen might bring upon her own head, but Armina could at least fantasize.

The negative: Armina was an officer now, and thus would have eyes looking at her from both above and below. Tomias would be very angry about missing the promotion, and even Brek would be put out about it. Khan would be completely inhospitable, of course, but that was just Khan. Armina had often heard that the top was a very lonely place, but at that moment the middle seemed far more lonely.

A sudden realization created a new category for the very negative: she was now in the running for captaincy. While most beasts would have rejoiced at the opportunity, Armina did not – at least, not fully. While everybeast enjoyed the thought of their own command, Armina was also terrified by the thought of all the responsibility of captaincy. She was not ready to lead forty beasts across the waves yet. She wasn't ready to lead even thirty. 'Gates, she wasn't even sure if she could command the crew of a rowboat.

It appeared she would have to find out, though. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, Armina slowly uncurled herself. To her surprise she'd been chewing on her tail, a kithood habit she thought she'd kicked. Embarrassed, she wiped her tail on her pant leg and straightened up, hoping the saliva wasn't too noticeable against the black fabric.

A couple members of the crew were already working on the longboat. Urel's eyes flickered to Armina's trousers and back up, this time with a questioning gaze, but Armina did not meet his eyes. "Let me see it," she ordered, a surprisingly demanding note to her voice. The crew swung the boat over, allowing Armina to critically eye its underside. "Lower," she ordered, ducking out as the boat touched down on the deck. Armina subjected the dinghy's interior to the same treatment.

"That is disgusting," she declared, pointing to a mess of bottles, crumbs and other items Armina would not dare to identify lurking beneath the rowers' benches. "I don't care if you keep your own bunks this dirty, since you're the only one who has to lie on them," she stated to a few chuckles. "But I will not having you throwing your grog bottles and 'Gates knows what else in there.

"We're on an ocean, folks!" She waved her paws about to indicate the item's position. "You see that big wet thing out there? That's called the dumping ground of the world. Your crumbs and ale and bottles are feeding and housing all those fish. I certainly don't need you to feed the roaches." Again, a chuckle. "Now throw this filth overboard before I feed the fish with your carcass and house them in your bones," Armina stated.

She walked away, her posture straighter than it had been in years. Though she wouldn't show it, she was a little unnerved. Had that confidence she displayed really been from her? Was she just putting on a show for the crew, trying to act tougher than she really was? And if she was, how long could her façade last?


Brek Larks
((Permitted auto on Urel))

"... Now throw this filth overboard before I feed the fish with your carcass and house them in your bones," the newly appointed Second Mate ordered the beasts preparing the longboat, including Brek. Then she walked away. The crewbeasts standing there seemed baffled. It was either they didn’t know that Rogue could be so commanding or were hesitant to take a teenage vixen’s orders.

Brek’s grudge also would have led him to ignoring them too if it weren’t for the superior command and the vixen’s truth in point. “Alright ye heard the lass! Urel, grab that end. You and I are going to flip it over the rails. You two,” Brek pointed at two crewbeasts “grab the lines and let it down slowly as we turn it over.” As they moved to their positions Brek tied the other end to the railing and met Urel on the other side.

“Alright you two will pull to help us lift it then we will turn it upside-down over the rail, then you two have to slowly let your end lower. On three: one, two three,” Brek and Urel lifted the bottom of the craft up while the other two gave the help with the lines, though Urel might’ve done it alone. Soon it stood on its side hovering above the railings, tied down so it wouldn’t swing around. “Alright now let it down slowly,” Brek said as he and Urel pushed the bottom so it leant over the side of the hull. Slowly it flipped over, then disaster struck as one of the line beasts slipped and let go of his line, causing the end of the boat to swing down crashing against the hull and lifting the other beast two feet off the ground.

Brek cursed under his breath and grabbed the dropped line while the beast now swinging in air let himself down and together they pulled the lines and lifted the boat back up. Urel reached over the rail and lifted the craft from its back end. They maneuvered the boat slowly back on the deck. A minor chunk of the wood was crushed off the edge of the boat and a pile of “Gates knows what” now stuck to the ship’s hull like a starfish. Brek brought the fallen beast to his feet and tossed an oar at him. “Scrape that off and next time try strapping bricks to ye feet, it’ll do us all some good,” Brek growled, his temper was gone “the rest of ye prepare to lift this into the water, now!”


Jeshal the Ironclaw
Once the boats were cleared of debris and tested upon the water, Jeshal emerged from his cabin having stripped off his captain's coat and hat. Instead he wore a grubby off-white dress shirt, generous at the neckline but buttoned to hide the darker patches of fur from a time past. His fur he had ruffled into an unkempt shock to perfect the corsair appearance. Bistre eyes glinted under the darkening sky.

"Muck yerselves up, mateys," the Ironclaw barked to the crew. "If any one o' ye looks e'en the slightest bit prettier'n me, I'll be throwin' the preenin' dolt in the bilge meself. Make it so's yer great gran'mammies be wakin' from fright an' despair."

Jeshal clambered down into one of the longboats, a satchel hanging over one shoulder in which he had placed a few navigational items and potentially useful tools. A few beasts were already aboard and yet more dropping down into the other boats. He searched among them for his newest promoted.

"Mokorai, Rogue, pick a few beasties ter watch the Hide while the rest of us away. If we be not back by three sundowns, they may sail back ter Vulpinsula. Everybeast else, get armed, get dirty, an' inter the dinghys!"


Armina Rogue/Colonel Khan
Armina was somewhat satisfied with the way preparations were proceeding. Valentine hadn't put up any fuss about her oar-wrapping methods when she'd checked on him, Kesey was helping to organize weapons and supplies for the attack – strike, Armina reminded herself – and Jeb was, well, Jeb. Which was to say that he was stealing as much time away from carrying supplies up from the hold as he possibly could to chat up every female within range. Armina had been quite satisfied to see his incessant chattering wither away at her approach. She'd certainly never have to worry about his advances anymore.

All in all, not much had occurred to mar her first thirty minutes as an officer. Perhaps everything would proceed smoothly for the rest of the night.

A loud crunch on the side of the hull dashed any hopes of that.

Armina practically soared across the deck, hurtling piles of packs and dodging crewbeasts carrying heavy bundles of weaponry. She barely had time to slow enough so that she didn't ram into the stern of the damaged longboat. Her eyes dashed over its surface, absorbing the noticeable dent in its rim and the few dregs of filth that had migrated along the boat's bottom. Unconsciously her body began shaking as suppressed stress and anger welled to the surface. Her quavering voice could barely manage to get out two words.

"Down... Now."

Unable to take any more, Armina wandered away, her limbs shaking so thoroughly it was near impossible for her to walk in a straight line. Automatically her paw swiped a hip flask off a passing crewbeast. She took a long draught before collapsing onto the stack of rucksacks. Her head lolled back, staring up at the sky with an expression that could only be classified as Why me?

The emergence of Jeshal, appearing fresh, invigorated, and – Armina would not have said this in front of Tomias – even ruggedly handsome, did little for her mood. The news that they were all to don the appearance of pirates elicited the slightest of groans from Armina. The last thing she needed was to dress up as some pirate wench for a single night raid.

Unfortunately, that was the captain's rules. Groaning, she pulled herself to her footpaws and stumbled belowdecks. The vixen had little of what would typically be regarded as corsair's clothing; a taste for fine clothes, acquired in reaction to a poor upbringing, had left her with anything but a cheap wardrobe.

Thankfully she still had a few items left over from her Tazzi years and a couple clothes she had bought 'just in case'. Within five minutes she looked an entirely different beast; she now wore a loose tunic similar to Jeshal's, perhaps a bit too loose. This she remedied with a large sash high on her abdomen. Breeches and a bandanna tied over her sooty hair completed the picture. She looked the very image of a female corsair – fast, sarcastic, perhaps even a little loose and wild. If Jeshal wasn't satisfied, Armina would see to it that his longboat conveniently sprung a leak on the way there.

Armina spent the next several minutes organizing stay and away groups. Kesey, Jeb, Urel, and Sokea she designated to remain on the Hide along with another large contingent of the low-ranking and the disabled. Khan she briefly considered assigning to remain behind, but he had already firmly settled himself into one of the longboats, the sour expression on his face suggesting it would be unwise to move him. Armina had no other choice but to declare her groups decided and clamber into the dinghy.

Khan glared at her as she took her place at the front, facing backwards toward the crew. The grizzled veteran had ditched his military uniform and kohl lines for a roughly cut shirt and trousers, though he was making his displeasure known; on his first swing of the oars he nearly knocked out the fellow beasts in his row, pushing them into the laps of those sitting behind them. Thankfully he was not reckless enough to endanger the crew; his rowing remained as close to silent as it could get.

The boat gradually began to drift closer to its companions. Armina stood in the prow, looking to Jeshal to lead his boat toward the island and signal the start of their attack.


Xhavek Mokorai/Wisp Wanderpaw
((Slight semi-auto will change if so desired.))

"Brother, the captain says to dress down for this. Apparently he took your advice." Wisp's soft lilting voice broke the silence in his reptilian blood brother's cabin.

Upon hearing the order to dress in a more corsair like fashion Xhavek grinned viciously and slid his remaining war gauntlet on. "Vell zen ve're juzt fine aren't ve?"

Both the rat and the lizard wore drab colors but there any and all similarities ended. For Xhavek's part he wore his undyed shark leather armor, and the only weapons visible were a pair of heavy steel gauntlets which were covered in spikes and clawed viciously. His face however was crisscrossed by bloodred warpaint, the whole image making him seem more like a barbarian than a corsair but the short monitor doubted anybeast would complain. As for Wisp he wore a plain brown hood' and a threadbare olive tunic. His breeches were also brown and all four of his paws were wrapped in black bandages.

"Iz Conall prepared?"

"Yes he's waiting up top."

"Zen come on! Ve can't be left behind y'know."

The two eventually emerged from the lower decks to be met by Conall, who was dressed in wide puffy pantaloons the color of sand and wore a sleeves blue shirt. What drew the eye was the single gold false-hoop adorning the big black todd's left ear. Xhavek raised a scaly brow to this but received no reply. Shrugging, the short lizard gave a stout kick to Johan Von Wulfenheim who had been hiding behind a barrel, nursing a stubbed footpaw.

"Get up lazybeazt! Ve're shoving off you and I! And if you make uz late for ze party I might juzt forget mine zelf and eat you inztead of ze enemy." Xhavek leaned down, a broad grin spliiting his face in two, his gleaming white teeth frighteningly close to the half-drunk wolf's snout. While it was a solid fact that Xhavek was quite possibly the shortest beast on the crew, to the crewbeast's collective mind and more to the point Johan's, the monitor often seemed to loom 10 feet tall when he wanted to. Johan quietly swallowed and nodded vigorously, scrabbling up and away from the fearsome lizard. Xhavek shook his head disappointedly. "Volvez, brave az zey come vith a gang at zeir back but get zem alone and zey aren't vorth a half-rotted tooth. McIntyre, you're vith me, anybeazt who izn't going vith 'Mina or ze Cap'n get yourzelvez on mine longboat on ze double!"

Conall, Wisp, and Xhavek (in that order) all hopped into the boat Wisp taking his by now customary seat at the prow to be lookout while Conall and Xhavek took the oars. "Ve need to be quick and quiet, anybeazt make anymore noize zen a newborn'z fart I'll tear zeir tailz off, underztood? I'm not getting shot full of arrowz before I zpill zome blood."

The short monitor grinned viciously and the light of insanity flickered in his brutally cold eyes.


Tametrat Klanted
Checking that his cutlass was well cleaned for about the fifth time, Tam finally nodded to himself. It was clean. Strapping it to his back he sighed and examined his reflection in a bit of spilled water that a certain little whelp had spilled on the floor. Hmmm... he still didn't look like a pirate should, and orders were orders. Spying a bandana lying on a bunk, he walked over to it and tied it on. Examining himself again, he decided it would be enough. Going on deck he heard the unmistakable voice of the first mate.

"Get up lazybeazt! Ve're shoving off you and I! And if you make uz late for ze party I might juzt forget mine zelf and eat you inztead of ze enemy.

"Volvez, brave az zey come vith a gang at zeir back but get zem alone and zey aren't vorth a half-rotted tooth. McIntyre, you're vith me, anybeazt who izn't going vith 'Mina or ze Cap'n get yourzelvez on mine longboat on ze double!"

Nearly tripping over his paws to get on board, Tam rushed over and hopped in the longboat.


Jeshal the Ironclaw
The journey to the island passed with no major incident. Once, one beast dropped an oar into the water and caused a bit of a ruckus grabbing it back, but the darkness covered them. As soon as the beach hit their line of sight, Jeshal signalled for the oars to dip slow and silent. Nearing the shore, the pirate-garbed captain spotted the reddish glow of a fading campfire. He could see no shapes nearby.

Jeshal's longboat scuffed sand. Quickly and quietly, he stepped out, taking care not to splash too loudly. Nodding to those sharing the vessel, they climbed out and helped him lift the boat, scooting it out of the tide's reach. The Ironclaw drew his cutlass and crept carefully toward the sizzling embers of the abandoned fire, taking care not to let the light reach him. He scoured the beach warily.

Not a beast was in sight. All was silent. Tracks in the sand suggested creatures had been moving fast, but he could tell no more than that. Daring to get closer to the fire he spied a selection of cooking apparatus. Jeshal used his cutlass to edge it toward him. Dipping the tip of his good paw into the broth inside he discovered it to be lukewarm.

Whoever had been here had left not long ago. Yet, perhaps a little too long ago to anticipate their arrival. At the far end of the beach was the tunnel the crew had chosen to take. Up close, Jeshal felt more afraid than he had expected.

There was something very wrong about all of this.


Brek Larks
"Ye hear that gents?" Brek whispered to his shipmates in his longboat. "The silence of the shores. Not even the lesser creatures make a squeak because they sense the death about them.” He was interrupted by the sound of an oar splashing and the noise the beasts made in retrieving it. “And all the while every other sound is like fanfare of a parade, echoing the noise you dread to listen to. It is the silence before battle, nay not a raid for we are equally matched maybe even outnumbered. It is a mourning of the dead before they fall.” Brek’s eyes glowed pale in the moonlight; they burned on every beast near him. Some looked away from him, irritated; others had their eyes wide open with shocked faces and their weapons shivering in their hands, and some he couldn’t even see. Some may have thought he had lost it*, or just was telling ghost stories to past the time or announce his own fears, or perhaps he had spent too much time listening to Raposa’s stories and riddles.

But honestly Brek was just trying to seem more like a pirate, as if the wardrobe change didn’t help. He now wore his dark trench coat and tricorn, his normal attire when on land. Also he had torn a strip from his shirt and tied it around his head, partially covering his right eye as if it were missing.

“…But,” he continued in a more cheerful tone, “let us make sure it is not we who shall be in need of the mourning.” They were still a little off from the island when he had said this, and he was silent for the remainder of their ride.

As they reached the island Brek got out of the boat just like every other beast did, silent and swift as shadows. He crept low to the ground, his boots sank in the sand while his coat and tail swept the ground behind him covering most of his tracks. The lad noticed the tracks on the ground; they were hard to determine how many there were and which direction they went. Brek looked them over trying to see where they lead to but they vanished in the darkness either way.

The todd moved to Jeshal and whispered. “Cap’n, should we send scouts to follow these tracks? We might find where these creatures went.”

*As if any beasts on the Hide still had it


Jeshal the Ironclaw
Scratching his muzzle with a masked anxiety, Jeshal continued to watch the quiet outskirts of the beach. Bosun Larks crept beside him and made a suggestion.

“Cap’n, should we send scouts to follow these tracks? We might find where these creatures went.”

The Ironclaw wrinkled his nose in disgust, not at the idea, but because he was actually considering it. Sending anyone toward that tunnel, which was where the tracks headed, did not sit well with his stomach. He dearly wished he had pulled rank and ordered them to take another route. However, without the choice, if any of them died and the rest returned home demoralised, he would be responsible. It was better than dying. In any fashion, the game appeared to have changed. These tracks were not a neatly organised regrouping. The creatures had fled and fast.

"'Tis not ter me likin', this place, Larks," Jeshal said softly. "Aye, though it be painin' me ter say so, we'd best send a few ter spy out the tunnel. Pick three, preferably o' the small an' fast categ'ry. Ashpaw will do as one. The rest'f us will be waitin'."



Brek Larks
"Aye, though it be painin' me ter say so, we'd best send a few ter spy out the tunnel. Pick three, preferably o' the small an' fast categ'ry. Ashpaw will do as one. The rest'f us will be waitin'."

“Aye sir, I’ll get right on it,” Brek replied softly and crept back to where the crew was hidden. As he made his way he decided in his mind who to send. Ashpaw will be one of them, upon captain’s “request”. Perhaps Spite as well, he’s proven he’s sneaky, and he’ll go first, doubt any of the crew will miss his trouble if he’s found… Brek paused and took time to think. One last crewbeast to send as a spy. Mayhaps we shall send Xhavek, small and fast like the captain described. Yes, he’ll do nicely.

He approached the crew and spoke softly, hardly above a whisper but enough for the entire crew to hear. “Bring me Ashpaw, Spite, and Xhavek. The captain’s got a job for us to do.”


Spitecloud & Stripeclaw Darkhedge
Spite had been sitting apart from the others and had been watching the captain and Brek have their conversation and, through his many seasons of wandering, sometimes with some others and other times alone; he figured some of the crew were going to be sent to scout ahead. His figuring proved right as the Bosun walked towards the group and stated

"Bring me Ashpaw, Spite, and Xhavek. The captain’s got a job for us to do."

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a certain little pest who had snuck along to the island and had just climbed up onto Spite's shoulders and sat there.

"'Ey Spie, lok! Tat' funnie lil' foxy wan's yew!"

Cursing in his mind the little brat's parents for dying, Spite silently walked over to the group and stopped right behind Brek. He never talked anyway, but whether he did or not wouldn't have mattered as Stripe decided to announce their presence.

"Wes er heree mester Breks! Whats yew bee wating es tew do?"


Xhavek Mokorai/Wisp Wanderpaw
((Teensy tiny auto))

Xhavek snarled quietly in irritation as he gazed balefully at the footprints of the beasts who had fled the now deserted beach camp. He crouched a slight ways apart from the rest of the crewbeasts, the two nearest to him were his ever present 'cronies' Conall and Wisp. Wisp half stood half crouched, paw upon the hilt of his wakizashi, his large ears twitching straining to hear any distinctive noises. As for Conall he knelt in the sand, eyes shut and spear held horizontally in front of him, parallel to the ground.

Wisp's ears suddenly twitched and he strode silently towards his reptilian blood brother. He knelt five feet away from him, wary of his bloodthirsty kin. His brown eyes darted quickly to Xhavek's mismatched blue and white ones and quickly averted them again. The vicious light in the short monitor's eyes disturbed Will even though he had seen it countless times.

"Brother, the captain wants Brek to lead a scouting party, Bosun Larks asked for Ashpaw, Spitecloud, and you," whispered the slim rat.

The near silence of the beach was shattered by a cruel growl tearing itself from the short lizard's throat. Xhavek hissed in reply, "You give ziz mezzage to Larkz..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shortly after a hushed conversation Wisp trotted over to where Larks's scouting team was gathering. The thin rodent ducked his head in embarrassment before coughing slightly and speaking in a slightly strained tone. "Um, excuse me Bosun Larks but First Mate Mokorai declines to join the scouting party and um well."

Wisp looked nervously back at his blood brother who simply stared at his rat kin flatly. Turning back to the officer todd and pulled at his large ear nervously before continuing. "He wanted me to give you this message word for word sir," the dull blue-grey furred rat continued in a fairly passable impression of Xhavek's voice, "Larkz vhat in ze name of Krok-Torin'z clawz are you zinking? Lazt time I checked I vaz ze lazt beazt I'd vant on a zcouting party or have you forgotten zat I'm ze mozt bloodthirzty beazt in ze entire thrize accurzed Imperium?"

A brief moment passed then Wisp spoke again, "I apologize in advance for this sir but he told me to do this."

Wisp's paw shot out and quickly cuffed the back of Brek's head. The blow was not hard and it was most certainly not as hard as the infamously violent Xhavek would have struck anybeast for a charge of 'stupidity' but the point got across.

"He said I was to go in his place sir. Again my apologies for my brother's behavior."


Kerri Quilane
Practically bouncing from footpaw to footpaw with energy as he lingered on the beach, Kerri couldn't say he was terribly pleased at having been passed over for scouting; being practically dressed for the occasion in his blacks and greys, the small tom wondered if perhaps it was just his aura that stopped beasts trusting him with these assignments. Not that he really cared at the end of the day, mind: he knew his skills and if those ahead were killed first, it would give him that much more knowledge to use for the future.

Twisting a bone button between pawfinger and thumb quietly, silently revelling in the little lances of pain it jolted through his skin at the rough contact to his acid-burned pads, Quilane flickered his eyes over the scene with every intention of appearing languid until his gaze caught a shifting pattern in the ground at the tunnel base. Waiting to see if it did it once more for confirmation, he ensured that what he saw was no joke before nudging the captain lightly, voice low.

"Look."

He motioned to a distinctly lively-looking patch of damp sand down in the tunnel. After a few seconds of inactivity passed, several feet of this uneven surface shifted again, before without warning it broke, scattering into a small shower as something rose from beneath with a gasp. There was just enough time for a brief flash of gimlet eyes to blink at the intruders before the shadow flitted towards further darkness in a spray of sand.


Jeshal the Ironclaw
Whilst the scouts were gathered, Jeshal continued to keep alert, giving the range of the beach and the tunnel sweeping and distrusting scrutiny. He ignored the restlessness of Quilane beside him until the little cat brushed him.

"Look."

The Ironclaw traced his gaze in the direction that Kerri pointed and caught sight of the creature emerge from the tunnel floor. For a moment dread shivered through the fox captain, wondering if an army were about to burst out from under his paws, but the creature blinked and bolted off through the tunnel.

"Drat! A blasted scout o' their own," Jeshal hissed. He snarled loud enough for the approaching team of chosen reconnaissance to hear him. "You lot, get yer paws movin' after that thin' an' stop it afore it alerts its mateys." The fox's eyes, filled with an anger borne from anxiety, snapped to meet Quilane's. "You too, fidgetbottom. Yer appointed scout. Get twitchy near the enemy, not yer cap'n. Get that beastie. I be wantin' it alive."

As the scouting party rushed on ahead, he beckoned to the rest of the crew.

"All righ' ye scurvy wobblenoses, keep yer eyes on the sand fer any wrong moves an' we move fer the tunnel!"



Armina Rogue/Colonel Khan
Armina shivered as she looked about the abandoned beach. She clasped her paws about her bare arms, wishing two things. The first was that she had brought a coat. The second was that Jeshal would get that scout group moving soon to find out where all the enemies were. The absence of even a small watch was unnerving; Armina's pacing was wearing a line in the beach.

She wasn't the only one who seemed ill at ease. Khan was becoming increasingly agitated by their situation, muttering to himself as he knelt in the sand, playing with sticks and shells as if they were a model army set. Armina had no doubt he was planning his own strategy for taking the island. Armina almost wished he would bring it up to Jeshal; anything that might get the crew moving was worth a shot, at least in Armina's reasoning.

Of course, that would not be happening. Khan had been shooting dirty looks at Jeshal for the entirety of the trip, making his feelings quite well-known. Apparently the loss of his expected promotion had hit a sour chord for him. He wasn't just taking it out on the captain, either; when their longboat landed, Khan almost knocked her into the surf while climbing out. If not for the need to remain silent, Armina would have viciously railed at him.

The grizzled old veteran had, at that moment, given up his toy soldiers in favour of carefully scrutinizing the beach, the trees, everything around him. Armina felt a small pit of unease growing in her stomach. Though almost everybeast on the Hide believed that Khan really had no clue what he was doing, Armina had a worrying feeling that this time Khan's battle experience might actually be needed.

Khan suddenly stood, catching Armina off her guard. Within a second he was breathing in her face. It was not a very pleasant experience. "Assign me ter Jeshal's guard," he growled quietly, his words more rumbled in his throat then they were spoken.

Armina blinked, her eyes watering from the acidic tang of cigar smoke and stale alcohol. "What?" she said dumbly.

Khan leaned in closer, causing Armina to instinctively back away. "Assign me ter Jeshal's guard," he repeated flatly. His tone made it quite clear that this was a demand, not a request.

Armina felt a small spike of indignation at his presumptuousness. "Excuse me, but I don't have to do a 'Gates-blasted thing for you," she rebutted, spitting a little of Khan's salty language back at him.

The Colonel did not seem surprised by her refusal. "Yer'll wan' ter be makin' tha' assignment," he warned her quietly. "I reckon 'ere's a few thin's yer don' wan' yer toddfriend learnin', righ'? I dunno 'ow 'e'd react ter 'earin' abou' Vanessa."

Armina recoiled as if she had just been slapped. She stared at Khan, suddenly scared. There was no possible way he could know. No one knew except for the 'Tazzis, and none of them would have breathed a word to Khan. "How do-" she began, an accusatory note in her voice.

Khan cut her off. "If'n yer don' wan' yer toddfrien' thinkin' o' ye as a murderer," he spat, "ye'll be making tha' assignment."

Armina stared at him, her heart lodged in her throat. Part of her wanted to refuse. Part of her wanted to give in. Part of her just wanted to hide in a corner and chew on her tail like a little kit. Her paw even began reaching back to grab her tail, but she caught herself in time. After what was surely only a few seconds but what felt like a lifetime, Armina spoke. "Fine," she said stonily. "Go tell Jesh I've assigned you to his guard."

Khan gave her an all-too-smug look as he trudged away. Armina watched him retreat, her eyes narrowed. Quietly she resolved to get anything she was hiding from Tomias out in the open the next time she saw him. If there was one thing she hated more than Anithias, it was being blackmailed, and she would not give Khan that opportunity again.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Khan was en-route to Jeshal when he saw the sentry escape. His smug look degraded into a scowl at the event. He'd considered the possibility of a scout, but he hadn't thought about burying one in the sand. The fact that he'd missed such an ingenious possibility only intensified his bad mood.

Khan caught up with Jeshal just as the crew was beginning to mobilize. Automatically he fell in step behind and to the right of Jeshal in the army fashion for a subordinate following his commander. "Rogue wan's me guardin' ye," he growled shortly, a displeased note in his voice. For all intents and purposes, he wanted to seem as if he was guarding Jeshal reluctantly. All of this severely needled Khan's pride, but he could withstand that for the moment. Patience was always rewarded.


Brek Larks
((Just assuming Ashpaw’s already with us. And slight auto on Stripe.))

"You lot, get yer paws movin' after that thin' an' stop it afore it alerts its mateys."... "You too, fidgetbottom. Yer appointed scout. Get twitchy near the enemy, not yer cap'n. Get that beastie. I be wantin' it alive."

Brek nodded to the captain and spoke to his team, his tone serious and commanding. “Right then, Darkhedge, Ashpaw and Wisp let’s get to those tunnels. If ye find other passages split up but don’t go too far ye get lots. Stay together and be careful no beast sees you before ye see them or kill them. As for me I’ll be staying at the entrance to call the crew over in case we run into trouble.” Brek walked over to Spite and yanked his little friend off his shoulders and to the ground. “Ye best be staying here lad, don’t want to lose you.” He quickly led off his team before the weasel could object or hopefully follow.



Will “Wisp” Wanderpaw
Almost as soon as the warning went off, Wisp's oversized ears honed in on the area from which the enemy scout had been and like a cork blasting from a bottle the slim rat was off. Paw upon the hilt of his wakizashi he belted across the sand to slow to a halt at the opening of the cave echoes of barely audible movement echoing in his highly sensitized ears.

Wisp's whiskery snout twitched as he smelled the damp air of the tunnel. The scent was so different yet so similar to the aroma carried by his own homecave. The difference being this one lacked the smell of being lived in. And Willhelm Wanderpaw was suddenly hit by a fierce pang of homesickness. He had not seen his family in nearly a year and for the young rat it was a new sensation. All his life he had been surrounded by family and friends, beasts like himself, creatures who lived out their lives under the rocky ceiling of their beloved underground homes.

Wisp shook himself vigorously, prising himself from happy memories that distracted him from the task at paw. He swiftly reached up and removed the ever-present crystal spectacles from his furry face. He knew that in the darkness of a cavern sight would be little but a burden, the presumed images that a fearful mind could project from simple could destroy the morale of a troop swifter than any enemy’s blade. He waved to the others that all was clear, for now.



Jeshal the Ironclaw/Macavity Ashpaw
Once the scouts had run on ahead, Ashpaw scurrying along beside them, Jeshal signalled for the rest of the group to move. For a moment he half wished that Tomias had not stayed behind – he could have used a self-proclaimed hero for a shield. He was thankful at least that Layla had kept her position at the back. If she completely lost her rag and began tearing the fur out of someone, it wasn't going to be him. He trod slowly across the sand, good paw gripping tightly to his cutlass. His gaze slid to one side as Khan appeared to his flank. Jeshal felt his fur prickle beneath his shirt.

"Rogue wan's me guardin' ye." The gruff explanation paved over the fox captain's anxiety. Khan was well versed in the punishments for mutiny and was most likely too set in his ways to want to alter his respected reputation over disagreement with a superior officer. Then again, perhaps the old beast's boots were too tight. Jeshal accepted the comment with a nod and continued to close in on the tunnel. Upon reaching the mouth, he allowed a few stronger creatures to lead the way lest a bottle-neck ambush arose.

"Light on yer paws, swabbies," he growled. "If the scouts be comin' back wi' an army hotfootin' after, we're ter turn tail an' block off the entrance. Limit the foe ter the tunnel."

The Ironclaw pressed on through the passage.


Kerri Quilane
Being assigned to the scouts was an order Kerri took in good grace; dipping his head and offering a simpering grin as he received criticism for his excitable energy, the pale-furred tom mumbled a bland apology before slipping after the scouts without a sound or barely a print left in the sands.

Following the small group of selected beasts, Kerri was pleasantly surprised to find that the little fox Brek didn't mention his name in the orders. Assuming that he had been given free reign for whatever reason, the cat bypassed the todd with a toothy grin at Stripe and crept into the tunnels after the amusingly nervous Wisp fellow. Remaining nearby, the tom bent himself into a stoop and scented the air delicately, pale eyes eerily glowing discs in the gloom as he scanned the darkened terrain for signs of life.

It took him a good long while to find the creature that had led them to race inside, even with the benefit of feline sight: pressed against the sandy earth between two rocks, the small, wiry-furred beast remained as prone as it could in the hopes of avoiding detection, a small blot of solid darkness against the shifting tones of the rockface, occasionally trying to shift its forepaws to dig into the sand underpaw in a attempt to vanish again.

Kerri narrowed his eyes and crouched lower, giving the impression of scanning the damp sand below for tracks. Clearly an animal better suited to hiding in the dunes, the strange creature bore an uncanny resemblance to the Wisp rat but for being half the size and a different shade of fur. Motioning his find to the other scouts with a violent twitch of the tail, Kerri indicated the patch of darkness and, as anticipated, hung back. Glory meant nothing to the cat if this strange creature was more dangerous than they knew.


Will “Wisp” Wanderpaw
Will's dark brown eyes followed the movements of the cat Kerri and waited for the beast to pass him and move to a further position before squatting, closing his eyes, and using his large ears to search out for sounds that weren't natural to the cave, anything at all that might be out of place. Will's eyes opened back up slowly, and glanced at Kerri. It was standard procedure for scouts to move in a pattern of one heading to the fore, checking the area, then waiting while another moves farther on and repeats the manuever. This meant that at any one time no pair of eyes didn’t have somebeast at his back assisting him.

Wisp slowly rose to a half-standing position. He narrowed his bespectacled eyes at the spot of shadow the feline indicated and suddenly there it was, a miniature rat the color of sand and desperately trying to camouflage itself. Wisp grinned mischievously and melted forward, blending almost perfectly with the stone walls of the cavern. He stopped just behind Kerri and tapped the cat's tailtip to doubly make sure the fellow scout was aware of his presence.

Quickly he used the scout handspeak used by a large portion of the Vulpinsulan military to communicate his intention.

Throw. Stone. Silent. Slay/neutralize foebeast.


Macavity Ashpaw
Nervously, Macavity hovered at the back of the scouting squad. He preferred thinking and talking rather than being so secretive. The creature they had been asked to pursue disappeared from sight until Kerri motioned toward a patch of uncertain shadow. Focusing his gaze more keenly, he could almost clearly see the outline of the creature trying so desperately not to be noticed. Yes, he could even see its chest rise and fall so very quickly as it breathed.

The little cat stifled his surprise as Wisp slipped into view beside them. A fiendish grin displayed, the rat began signalling. Macavity watched intently and smiled in return. He had to stop himself from blurting out how 'jolly good' the idea was.

Ashpaw gestured subtly to the sling he had brought out. Now was the chance to show a Smudgie Rangeblade in action! Motioning for the others to step aside a little, he whirled his sling in the darkness of the tunnel and let the stone missile fly straight for the silhouette.


Will “Wisp” Wanderpaw
Wisp watched as Macavity readied a sling and set it a whirling with its deadly projectile. Then all at once the stone was flying and there was a satisfying whunk as it struck the shadowy creature. Whether by luck or by skill Macavity had dropped the beast with nary a sound and the creature had ceased moving. Alive or dead Wisp would soon know.

Giving silent pats on the shoulders of his companions he darted ahead his over-large ears trained for any sound not made by him to come echoing down the tunnel. As a cave-dwelling Will had been more than used to finding beast solely by sound and the echoes made in such cramped conditions rarely confused him, in fact they often helped him learn how distant those beasts were.

Wisp came to a stop beside the crumpled creature and after darting his head this way and that the slim rat knelt and put his ear to the much smaller rodent's chest. Wisp's eyes shot wide open as unbelievably there was indeed a heartbeat! He had to resist the urge to dart away but this was a valuable prisoner. He turned to glance at his allies and signed.

Alive. Prisoner.


Kerri Quilane
But alas, the best laid plans of mice and... well, rats, go often askew. Indeed, the well-aimed rock from Macavity had hit its mark with some considerable impact, enough to topple and stun the tiny native at least; however, by the time Will was over to assess the damage done, it was already on the way to making a groggy recovery, grateful, in some tiny, coherent fraction of its brain, for the ridiculously oversized ears which had deflected so much of the impact from its skull.

Adrenaline pumping through its tiny frame, the unusual creature remained painfully prone as Will checked for a heartbeat, terrified that the organ inside would come ripping through its ribs with the speed and strength of its frantic pounding. Opening one dark eye, the beast inadvertently winced as the pinwheels of smoggy colour took their time to realign into the fuzzy, distorted image of its captor whom, Asmodeus be blessed, was facing the wrong way!

There would be no opportunity like this to be seized again. Rolling back onto its belly as silently as possible in the time that Will had glanced to the other scouts, the sandy-furred beast crouched flush with the rocky floor for just a second before springing away at a considerable height and length, only to be met in mid-flight by Kerri whom had, upon sight of movement, leaped to tackle the stranger. Crashing into one another with some force, it was only the superior mass of the slight white cat over his tiny prey which reversed its trajectory: they landed with an audible thump, and for several seconds the feline expected the mousey beast to give up out of sheer terror from being captured by a cat.

What he didn't expect were footpaws with the size and strength of a hare's (albeit they were somewhat bonier) to crash into his chest and midriff. In almost slow motion the tom was sent sailing overhead to crash back-first upside down against the cave wall as a result of the panic-filled reflex. Dazed and winded, the tom was only just able to make out the shape of the stranger moving once more, before the severity of its injuries overcame the burst of energy it had gained through terror.

Holding its breath for fear of wasting its last, the tiny, stunned jerboa made a clumsy break for the inner caves again.


Will “Wisp” Wanderpaw
Will was caught entirely flat-footed by the beast's sudden movement and subsequent escape. That beast moved faster than he did! Wisp began to move, almost immediately grabbing a stone as he did so. The slim blue rat had an idea of how to bring this odd hopping beast down.

Wisp's paws hit the ground hard as he ran forward, zooming forward like some blue tinged phantom. Willhelm was close enough to hear the thud of impact when Kerri slammed into it. The rat also watched in wonder as an inexplicable thing occurred, when they went down almost immediately Kerri went flying into a wall where he lay stunned. Wisp kept moving forward though he swallowed hard. This might be more dangerous than I thought...

Though he didn't know it Wisp was moving faster than he ever had in his life, and for much time afterward he would try things during raids that he otherwise would not have done to get that feeling again. Everything seemed to slow down to him, he could distinctly hear the drip of water hitting a stone, feel the air slowly going out of his lungs as he exhaled. And for a brief moment, he swore he could feel the presence of the only beast in the whole of creation he had ever truly loved. As he sped towards the stranger he whispered her name, "Grace."

All at once he vaulted over the beast as he struggled to escape, Wisp's body rotated in the air so it almost looked like he was doing a cartwheel with the beast's back as his floor. Then using this fulcrum he slammed his knee forward into the beast's nose. As its head snapped back from the force of the blow, Will's paw shot and caught it by the ear and he did one of the few things that was guaranteed to put a rodent off their balance. He blew a hard gush of air right into its ear.



(Jesh note: I could've sworn we took this thread further or even finished it, but this is what I have. As far as I recall, Khan plotted to attack Jeshal and leave him for dead at the end of the mission, but Jeshal survives and flags everyone down before the ship leaves)

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