Expedition [Urk Climax #1]: The Long Watch

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

OOC: This is the main shore party thread where the major events will occur, but Urk proper is now open for side adventures and other things, such as detailing the landing and the initial finding of the state of the village, the construction of the camp, scouting parties, character introductions, et cetera.

Talinn stood with his first mate, Gyles, a small complement of marines, and the selected prisoners on a small hill overlooking the burned and shattered remains of the shrew village, observing the hurried, makeshift encampment that the beasts of the Hide had erected in its place. He had ordered it be laid out in the most defensible manner he thought possible, tight and with concentric layers of defense already under construction in order to help ward off a possible massive shrew assault and a field of fire beyond them so that their true home could open up fire and thin their ranks somewhat before they were able to engage in melee, although he hoped that they would be able to achieve their objective and then simply leave before the natives had a chance to regroup and attack. He was careful about the lives of those under his command.

The first line of defense under construction was a simple, but effective, shallow trench concealed by cloth upon which snow had been carefully sprinkled, leading to a pit of spikes below, with small paths of actual ground running between it and subtly marked with stones in order for scouts and foraging parties to walk through unharmed, and the widest of the three lines. The second layer of defense, smaller and tighter than the first line, was a hastily constructed low wall made out of debris, packed earth, and whatever they could find, where the main assault of the shrews would hopefully be stopped at. Finally, the third and last line of defense, the tightest, was composed of a small moat from the diverted river running through the camp, a single hastily constructed wooden bridge upon it. Behind that lay the various supply tents, medical tent, and, of course, what all of this was meant to protect: the landing boats, which they would need to escape at the end of the day.

He hoped it would all be enough, and that the officer he had left in command, Lieutenant Tultow of the Marines, would be able to hold the line would be able to maintain the necessary order and discipline would be able to keep them all organized, or, failing that, that some beasts would prove their courage and might through combat. Nodding at Gyles, the Minister of Innovation turned, and began to head towards their main objective.

 

[Duchess Dusk Rainblade]

Tultow hadn't seen the shrew hiding among the ruins. If he had, he would have shouted and warned Corporal Honeytail before he'd passed between the charred husks of the huts. All Tultow had time to do was yell in alarm as the shrew had leaped from cover and drove its bone dagger into the ferret's throat. A volley from the other marines' crossbows had taken down the shrew in a moment, but the damage was done. Tultow has run to the Corporal's side, and hadn't even felt the ferret's weight as he dragged him back into the camp. "Hold on, blast it," he adamantly ordered the ferret, trying to keep down the panic in his voice. It couldn't end like this, it just couldn't, where was that blasted medic-

Honeytail stopped choking and went still, his eyes turning unfocused and glassy. Tultow stopped in crossing the barricades, his heart seeming to stop as well, time freezing in that moment. Finally, as he came back to reality, he slowly lowered the ferret's torso to the ground, closing his eyes with a pass of the pawfingers. The marines gathered about looked on somberly, removing hats and helmets in respect for their fallen comrade. None looked directly at the Lieutenant; as subtle as Tultow and Honeytail had kept their involvement, in a tight-knit unit like theirs, such things were still bound to be noticed. None would dare to intrude upon the Lieutenant's mourning in this time.

The Lieutenant knelt with Honeytail's head in his lap, letting the grief wash over him, before he finally lowered his fallen comrade's head to the ground and stood. He took a long, deep breath, bracing himself in the frigid air, and turned to face the crew of the Hide. "We're in enemy territory now, gents," he addressed the group, ignoring that, technically speaking, there were several femmes among the group as well. "We cannot let our guard slip for a moment. Behind every rock and ledge out there, those blasted shrews could be lurking, waiting to pick us off one by one. We must be vigilant, and proceed with caution. If you must venture, then venture in groups for mutual protection. Watch each other's backs, and return well before sunset. Darkness is our adversary here, and we shall need strength in numbers if we are to survive the fall of night." He hesitated before adding, more softly, "one casualty is already too many. Let's not add any more."

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma had tried to stay with the marines. Tultow and his beasts had helped pull her and Gyles out of the drink, given her a blanket to warm herself - she was thankful for that. They had a sort of camaraderie she felt jealous of. The Hide was a big ship with a big crew. The marines were only a small part of it.

An outsider of sorts, she still felt the loss of the corporal. Of course, she hadn't known Honeytail at all. But she could see he meant a great deal to the lieutenant, and that the marines had lost one of their own. It made her think of Morgan, how she was recovering, hopefully, from the injuries she'd taken at the hands of the shrews earlier. That ferret could have been her, instead. Slain in an ambush before there was time to react. Stabbed in the throat, not even left the chance for parting words.

The weasel breathed fury through the cloth wrapped around her muzzle and face. She'd sworn off exposure to the cold last time she'd been near the island - back on the Valdez. They'd lost good beasts then, too.

She gripped her bow more tightly, raising her head to try and speak to the stoat lieutenant. Her face couldn't really be seen under the well-worn rags she'd covered herself with - significantly more camouflage than her tawny and orange fur would have presented, only undercut by her navy blue uniform.

"Sir, permission t'scout ahead in the village - mebbe find where the spikebacks are hiding..."

Vihma would have been surprised at herself, risking her neck like she was, getting riled up for a beast she hadn't even known. But the weasel felt a fury in her heart that perhaps only blood could soothe. It didn't matter to her that the shrew's village had been destroyed already, didn't quite register. They'd hurt beasts who'd helped her. What was she supposed to feel?

 

[Duchess Dusk Rainblade]

Tultow nodded at Vihma's request. "Granted, but take a second with you. Piper," he directed to a weasel marine who was fiddling with what seemed to be a small telescope affixed to the back end of her crossbow, "go with the seabeast here and anyone else she takes with her."

"Aye sir." The weasel femme, her own uniform coat already turned inside-out so the white lining gave her camouflage in the snowy environment, finished checking her weapon before stepping up to join Vihma. "At your service, miss," she remarked, adding in a more colloquial tone, "that was something brave you did, jumpin' into the drink like that. You navy beasts aren't nearly as soft as your reputation."

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma watched the other weasel carefully. Her tail - notably not covered nor camouflaged against the arctic dirt and snow - twitched lightly at her last comment, the one about navy beasts and reputations, but she couldn't help but straighten her posture a bit and lift her head a little more highly at the praise she was given.

"Er, suppose it was. Just glad yer mates were there t'pull me out."

She looked back at Honeytail and Tultow for a moment more before tearing her eyes away, starting back the way the lieutenant and his beasts had came before. She paused only to feel up her weapons, to make sure they were all where they needed to be. Her cutlass at her side, her arrows (thankfully replenished to a degree by some found in the Hide's stores before their landing) ready in a soft quiver on her other side. If any other beasts were coming along, they'd have time to join in. The wasn't in a mad rush to get herself killed, and was keen to talk while they had the chance - before stealth became priority, when they'd be deep in the village ruins.

"Yer Piper then, neh? M'name's Vihma... ye can call me that if ye like."

The weasel felt a bit awkward, a bit foolish now that her fury was fading. She'd volunteered for this task, she remembered - and what's more, dragged another beast with her. Foolish, just like her mother.

"Fancy crossbow ye've got. 'ow far out can y'see wi' that thing on top?"

Vihma gestured with her free paw at the crossbow's mounted telescope. It wasn't the sort of device she often saw outside the paws of officers and other ranking navy beasts, and it felt better to soothe her curiosity - and maybe get some appreciation for the other weasel's abilities and equipment - than to linger on her fears and doubt.

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Barrett had been tasked with setting up the infirmary tent, and was delegated a handful of beasts to help with the efforts. "These tents are always rotten to setup..." grumbled the pine marten, wrapped to the hilt in the warmest clothing he could muster. He shook the instructions out again in the cold breeze, and turned them sideways to look at a diagram. "No no no, we're missing a post here!" he said, gesturing at a part of the tent that was sagging inwards.

His surgical toolkit was sitting on the dirt next to him, along with baskets of bandages and blankets. Not exactly the full compliment of supplies he was used to, but he'd have to make do. Talinn's silver box was secured in the chest, along with a few other choice medications necessary for treating wounded. Field medicine like this was how he cut his teeth during the Maelstrom conflict... but he'd grown accustomed to the comforts of working on land based hospitals.

Suddenly, he heard a commotion from the outside -- someone was wounded. Already? So early? Gates, this should have been a cakewalk. How are they... "You two! Get this section of the tent up immediately, and build out a cot on the double!" Barrett went to the edge of the tent, and saw Tultow and Honeytail off in the distance. There was a surge of activity, before everything suddenly went still, and the beasts began to take off their hats.

"...gates. Finn, fetch a litter. It looks like there's been a casualty."

Barrett came up to the group in brisk fashion, just as Tultow was closing the ferrett's eyes. Finn was close in tow, and drew up behind the surgeon to watch the somber scene. The foxkit's eyes teared up a little -- not for Honeydew, who he didn't know well. The beast was gone, and tears would do nothing for him. The marines, however... Finn loved tussling with them on the deck of the hide. They were kind to him, and he shared their grief.

Arthur rested a paw on Tultow's shoulder, and guided Finn over to lay the litter down behind his fallen comrade. "Poor fellow..." he said. Tultow was a good sort of Lieutenant. Stoical, even in grief -- and boresighted on his duty. While Arthur was numb to most loss at this point, he knew that it was harder for the younger ones. "He didn't suffer, Lieutenant. Come Finn. Let's take him to the tent. Lieutenant Tultow... if you'd follow us to the infirmary."

 

[Duchess Dusk Rainblade]

Piper cradled her crossbow, checking it over and, a bit proudly, demonstrating its features. "The sight's four times magnification," she explained, "so pretty far. It's mostly good for sighting, less so for firing, though. I have to raise the crossbow to hit anything further out than thirty yards, so if I want to hit something further, I have to do this-" she pulled a lever, allowing her to swing the scope down to the side of the stock, "-and then I have to fiddle with this knob to find the right angle for the distance. Farthest I've been able to hit accurately is sixty yards; past that, it doesn't matter much how well I aim, the bolt is gonna go where it wants to go. Believe it or not, that makes me one of the best shots in the unit."

Piper lowered the crossbow, giving a nod to Vihma's bow. "I saw you with that. You're a fast shot. This darn thing is such a clunky pain in the tail to draw. Honestly, I'm kinda jealous of how natural you make that look."

~ ~ ~

Tultow followed the medics to their tent, trying to keep his chin held high and a stiff upper lip, as it were. He knew very well that Honeytail hadn't suffered for long; that didn't stop his heart from aching. They'd both known the risk that, one day, one of the would lose the other, but still, the suddenness of the ferret's death had left Tultow numb. "Please," he requested of the surgeon and his assistant, his voice hollow now that he was away from his men. "If we can get him back to Bully Harbor for a burial... His mother will want to bury him in the flag." 'Gates, he'd have to be the one to make the death notification. He didn't know how he'd be able to handle that, being a shoulder to cry on and not breaking down himself.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail cursed under his breath as the tent frame jerked sideways again.

He’d hammered iron rods into incredible shapes with nothing but a torch and grit. He’d wrestled corroded bolts off overheated casings. And yet, this simple, sagging wall of canvas was managing to defeat him with nothing more than stubborn tension and wind.

He adjusted one corner again, trying to stretch it without buckling the support rod. “You’d think a beast who could bend steel wouldn’t lose to a tent,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Then came the noise. Raised voices. A clatter. The sharp sound of someone calling for help. Swifttail’s ears twitched. He looked up, squinting toward the source. That’s when he saw something limp at the center of a group of Marines. Someone...

His chest tightened. He didn’t need to see the fallen beast clearly. The silence in the wake of the commotion said enough. There had been talk. Warnings and rumors of what this voyage might cost. He’d believed them, sure, but belief wasn’t the same as standing twenty yards away while the first death dragged across the snow.

The blow landed somewhere below the lungs, cold and hollow. He stared for a long moment. Then he took a breath. Adjusted the edge of the canvas again. Swallowed the cold.

He turned to the beast beside him, another set of paws holding a pole, and offered a tired sigh.

“Not much we can do about it, I’m afraid,” he said, quiet but steady. “Let’s just try to get this tent up before they return.”

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue had been standing beside Tultow originally, seeing as how he was technically an officer. The following events had happened in such quick succession, that he was still standing in shock by the time it all died down. He hurried over to Tultow, taking off his hat. "Sir- I'm sorry... there was nothing you could have done. If you need a moment to collect yourself, please allow me to take over."

Silvertongue still wasn't entirely sure what his duties were on this shore party. Mainly to oversee his... underlings? It felt strange to be seen as a superior, especially by beasts who were older than him.

 

[Greeneye]

Meanwhile, Greeneye approached Vihma and Piper. "I'm goin wif der two of ye, an' it ain't up fer debate."

He definitely should not have been on his feet, but he had taken a dose of the stimulant despite Barret's protests. He had fresh bandages wrapped around various parts of his arms and legs, but he was rarin to go.

"I'll go ahead, since yew lady-beasts got crossbows 'n' all."

The way Greeneye said it sounded like he was being an asshole, but in his mind it just made since. He preferred close quarters combat and figured that Vihma and Piper could cover him from afar.

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Arthur held his breath at Tultow's burial request. The cold weather would preserve him without issue -- and infact, burial on Urk would be nearly impossible with the ground frozen as it was.

However, there was simply no way to postpone decay long enough to make the trip home. No reasonable one, at least. Barrett knew of at least one captain whose body was preserved in brandy for the voyage home -- but that was a much beloved captain whose crew couldn't bear the burial at sea.

Perhaps if Honeytail were the only casualty -- but there would be many others. In a cruel, practical sense, Honeytail wasn't worth the barrel of spirits. While Barrett's pragmatic mind forced himself to acknowledge this fact as a matter of making sure he had fully engaged the problem without cowardly avoiding it, care for the deceased was his battle, and he wouldn't shoulder other beasts with his burden.

"He was a brave beast, Lieutenant. We'll see what we can do. He'll have a proper burial, I'll see to it." Ah, the half truths of medicine. Barrett loathed them, yet they were a necessity, and his tone conveyed an earnestness.

Proper dignity for the dead was truly a critical thing for crew morale. Something imperceptibly shifted in how things worked when beasts knew they were headed for a mass grave. And Barrett's word was true: as long as he was breathing, he would make sure any of the crew he cared for received a proper burial -- even if that meant at sea, rather than in the military cemetery. But some times, beasts couldn't handle the full truth just yet, and needed a moment to come to the conclusion themselves that there were really no other options.

Finn was a silent mess, tears streaming down his face. Barrett put a comforting paw on his shoulders, and ushered him away so Tultow could express his grief more openly in private. "Come, Finn... There are some things I must explain to you..." he said, leading the kit off to explain all these things in private.

Honeytail lay on the operating table in a hammock -- which would soon serve as his coffin. In a few minutes, the hammock would be sewn shut, and become a lifeless form on the cold ground, marked only with a tag bearing his name and a brief entry in the ships log.

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma was impressed, looking over the contraption with more attention than she’d thought it merited when she’d asked.

“Thirty yards ‘s nothing t’sneeze at. I’d be lucky t’hit anythin’ at that distance.”

She actually blushed at the other weasel’s praise for her bow skill – thankfully under fur and cloth, such that Piper wasn’t able to see.

“Been practicin’ for a long time… when I can, anyway. Sometimes better than other times. Sounds like yer a pretty good shot yerself.”

The weasel was going to ask her if the crossbow with its telescope had been her own idea, only for Greeneye to catch up with them from behind. She was shocked to see the rat still able to walk, much less walk past them, taking up the front of their little formation. When she’d last seen him he’d been stable but weak, bad wounds under bandages on his tail, arms and legs.

The work of the MinoInn, no doubt.

“Be safe up there, Greeneye,” she called after him.

“We’re ‘oping more t’find the bastards than to try ‘n fight ‘em all on our lonesome.”

 

[Duchess Dusk Rainblade]

Piper finished returning the scope to its previous configuration, then gave Greeneye a smart nod at his suggestion. "We'll provide covering fire," she suggested. "If you see the enemy, don't engage, come back and let us know. If they come upon you, shout and we'll do all we can to give you space to retreat and engage on more favorable terms." She glanced to Vihma in concern, lowering her voice. "Should he really be out here? He looks like a porcupine used him as a pincushion."

~ ~ ~

Tultow nodded at Silvertongue's offer. "Please," he requested. "Just... just keep the lads busy. At times like this, beasts need something to do with themselves, to keep their minds occupied." 'Gates knew he would need something to pull his mind away from this death.

The stoat took a deep, rattling breath as he tried to choke back a sob. He knew, intellectually, that bringing Honeytail back home was a near impossibility. By the time he'd get to Bully Harbor, he'd be in such a state that his mother really shouldn't see him like that. Best, then, to do what he could to give her something meaningful. His paws moved over Honeytail's body, retrieving the small iron medallion his mother had given him for protection from his breast pocket. He hadn't wanted to wear it after Tultow had spotted it on him and teased him for being superstitious. 'Gates, what a fool I was. Everything else, his golden lapel pins, the pearl-inlayed cufflinks he'd bought himself to celebrate his last promotion, the monogrammed handkerchief that Tultow had given him on the last Giftsgiving festival, all stayed on his body, to be buried with him, wherever that would be.

He finished the preparations, then, in the privacy of the tent, planted a gentle kiss atop Honeytail's head. "Ad serenitatem, my dear friend," he murmured, then, taking one last breath to brace himself, he went in search of the surgeon to do the proper preparations.

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Arthur led Finnian aside and gently set him on the edge of a cot. The young fox gave his face a quick scrub with his paws, ears twitching as Barrett approached and knelt before him. The pine marten spoke in a quiet, measured voice, and Finnian listened, nodding along at first. But then something Barrett said upset the kit -- Finn's ears drooped, and he buried his face in his paws again. Still, Barrett continued, his tone steady but not unkind. From behind his paws, the foxkit gave another faint nod. After a brief, weighty silence, Barrett rose to his feet and walked back across the room.

"'m sorry for your loss, Tultow," he said in a calm and gentle voice. There were a dozen things in his repitoire to comfort the mourning, but they all seemed trite after a while. Barrett rested a heavy paw on the stoat's shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Meanwhile, Finn had quietly crept up on the pair, and Barrett caught his lip quivering out of the corner of his eye. No, that wouldn't do. There wasn't time for such grief on the battlefield. Judging the situation carefully, Barrett made a calculated move.

"Lieutenant, young Mr. Brightfur seems to be out of sorts!" he announced in a brisk fashion, fitting of a warrant officer. Reaching down, the hulking pine marten scooped Finn up and tossed him into Tultow's arms. "I should greatly appreciate if you take your marines and run him for a bit... Would do the both of you some good. Put him through the ringer for me, would you?"

With Finnian handed off, Barrett returned to supervise the assembly of the tent. "Mr. Fairpaws, for heavens sake... can you help make sense of these instructions? I can't make heads or tails of them."

 

[Duchess Dusk Rainblade]

Tultow's expression of reserved grief turned to surprise as the kit was deposited in his arms, but, after staring at the youth in shock, he set the lad down. "Right, lad," he confirmed, "with me, then. We're in hostile territory beset by savages; should they return, it's best you know how to handle a blade. Have you any experience to date, lad? Any training?"

 

[Kaii Nashirou]

Kaii was keen on finally standing on a solid ground.

He came with the party to the shore as all those able to fight were needed. He did put in his resume his fighting skills so he was there too... albeit he right now was busy constructing single traps to fortify the area.

While not clad in armour, he had his blade on the hip at all times. Ready to expand it and surprise any poor beast to come into its range. Kaii worked with that in mind, ready to fight at every single moment. His senses heightened and his mind working overtime, making him hyperaware of everything, while also detached from any emotions.

His task was to make just few trou de loups, instead he already made some that would turn around and lock a leg of whoever stepped onto it with spikes, making it impossible to move without getting muscles shredded. He already had at least twentysomething ideas on how to optimize it, but there was no time to do so.

Kaii could hear other beasts working around and talking, yet he was far too focused to give them any sort of attention himself. Some very deep part of him cried at the idea of being so cold to his friends but it was buried under many layers of frozen grief. Unable to affect him in any way.

For he was not planning on letting emotions to affect him. Not when it could cost him his life.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail stood up straighter as Barrett called out, brushing off his paws and giving the tent frame a final once-over.

“Well the instructions were not a help,” he called back with a grin, “but I think we finally got her bested.”

With a flick of his wrist, he gave one of the support poles a proud little pat. The kind of pat that says 'That Ain't Goin' Anywhere' and nod like a builder admiring their craft.

The pole wobbled.

A moment later, one of the stakes near the corner popped free with a quiet fwipk, launching softly into the snow.

Swifttail froze.

The tent, mercifully, remained upright, though now tilted just enough to make the wind flap the canvas with smug disapproval.

He sighed through his nose, tail flicking once in resignation.

“No one saw that,” he muttered with mock severity, and bent down to go hammer the thing back in place.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Barrett was famously... ...un-touchy. Thorny exterior and all. In fact, in the past five minutes, Finn had seen Arthur express more affection than he had during the entire voyage -- so it came as a complete surprise when Barrett slipped his paws under his arms and tossed him like a pillow. (Gates, he was strong.)

Finn landed on Tultow with a shocked expression on his face, and quickly slid to the ground. Honeytail was still on his mind, and his face was still wet with tears. The kit untucked his shirt and used it as a hankerchief -- Barrett had been fairly explicit that the best thing he could do for Honeytail now was to work hard, and ensure that his loss wasn't in vain. And so he would.

"S-sort of... some of the marines let me practice sword drills with them on deck one night..."

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Barrett let out a sigh of relief as Swift took the instructions off of him. It was difficult enough running an infirmary... but having to build it? Goodness, that was an unreasonable ask. Thank goodness he was able to delegate it.

The pine marten set a lantern up to work by, and began to gently tug the hammock up around the deceased. Fetching a needle and thread from his kit, he began to sew the hammock up, feet to head -- at least, until the hammock suddenly threatened to collapse on him. Barrett covered his work with his body, and sent a frightened look over to Swift. Goodness, the tent was flammable, wasn't it?

But no, the tent seemed to stabilize, and Arthur let out a sigh of relief. "The venerable Fairpaws can run the most convoluted of contraptions powering the Hide, yet struggles to setup a tent?" he asked, a cheeky smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Meanwhile, Silvertongue walked about. He puffed his chest out, trying to seem more like an officer than he really felt. He didn't give out any orders. He just made sure everyone was busy. Or at least seemed to be busy.