Greeneye walked ahead of the two beasts. This burnt out village, it reminded him of the raids his father did, but on a far larger and deadlier scale. One might think there'd be no survivors, but Greeneye knew from experience that you never killed them all the first time around. There were always stragglers.
Expedition [Urk Climax #1]: The Long Watch
- Thread starter Duke Talinn Ryalor
- Start date
- Influence
- 13,151.00
Swifttail managed a weak smile, the corners of his muzzle twitching as he looked up from the stake he’d just finished re-securing.
“Blame the frozen silt,” he muttered. “Won’t hold a stake straight to save its life.”
He straightened and took a few quiet steps closer, gaze drifting down to the wrapped form that Barrett had so carefully sewn. The humor faded from his face once again.
“You shouldn’t have to do all this alone,” he added gently. “I’m here. Just tell me what you need.”
“Blame the frozen silt,” he muttered. “Won’t hold a stake straight to save its life.”
He straightened and took a few quiet steps closer, gaze drifting down to the wrapped form that Barrett had so carefully sewn. The humor faded from his face once again.
“You shouldn’t have to do all this alone,” he added gently. “I’m here. Just tell me what you need.”
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Tultow considered the kit before him, sizing him up. Still young, still small... but, against the shrews, that might actually be an advantage. "Very well," he allowed. "The first lesson you need to know, when up against a beast with superior range, is to keep to cover. These fortifications will save your life, and no amount of charging across the battlefield will save you. Rather, should the shrews come back, they will likely attack us from range to provide cover while the bulk of their forces advance upon us. No matter what, do not go out to meet them. Is that understood? Now," he continued, drawing his own blade, "let's find a small barrier, and I'm going to teach you how to hold position on a wall."
~ ~ ~
As Greeneye explored, there was a small sound from what of the wrecked huts. It was a slight shuffling, accompanied by a few plaintive, high-pitched squeaks.
~ ~ ~
As Greeneye explored, there was a small sound from what of the wrecked huts. It was a slight shuffling, accompanied by a few plaintive, high-pitched squeaks.
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Vihma watched Greeneye walk further and further ahead, giving a bit of a sigh before she turned to answer Piper.
"If it were up t'me, no. I'm surprised 'e's even standing right now... it's from somethin' the Minister gave 'im."
Scanning the ruined townscape as they drew closer, the weasel took an arrow from her side quiver, holding it loosely nocked against her bowstring, ready for anything that might jump out at her or the others. She hadn't actually heard anything, or didn't think she had, but the memory of Honeytail lying bleeding in the snow was enough to stress caution.
"If it were up t'me, no. I'm surprised 'e's even standing right now... it's from somethin' the Minister gave 'im."
Scanning the ruined townscape as they drew closer, the weasel took an arrow from her side quiver, holding it loosely nocked against her bowstring, ready for anything that might jump out at her or the others. She hadn't actually heard anything, or didn't think she had, but the memory of Honeytail lying bleeding in the snow was enough to stress caution.
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Barrett sighed, and looked helplessly at the tent. It was set up well enough to be used, but how well would it fare in strong winds? The pine marten was uncertain of the forecast, and looked tense for a moment. If the tent collapsed in the middle of treating wounded, it could cost lives.
A frown returned to his face at the offering Swifttail made, and his hackles involuntarily raised. Though the fox was expressing a kindness, the stress of setting up the infirmary and the recent loss of the marine blinded him. All he could see was the intrusion on his duties. "The tent, if you please, Mr. Fairpaws!" he said curtly, shooting a harsh look at the fox.
The pine marten put several stitches in the hammock, too proud to admit what had just happened, but after a few moments, he softened.
"The tent is critical infrastructure. It mustn't collapse should the weather turn foul. I would greatly appreciate if you would..."
And he softened again. Swift and Kai had both come in to help save Morgan. The fox didn't mean anything by it, he was a good sort. "...the tent can wait a few minutes. Would you like to help lay Honeytail to rest?" he asked, offering the fox the needle and thread.
A frown returned to his face at the offering Swifttail made, and his hackles involuntarily raised. Though the fox was expressing a kindness, the stress of setting up the infirmary and the recent loss of the marine blinded him. All he could see was the intrusion on his duties. "The tent, if you please, Mr. Fairpaws!" he said curtly, shooting a harsh look at the fox.
The pine marten put several stitches in the hammock, too proud to admit what had just happened, but after a few moments, he softened.
"The tent is critical infrastructure. It mustn't collapse should the weather turn foul. I would greatly appreciate if you would..."
And he softened again. Swift and Kai had both come in to help save Morgan. The fox didn't mean anything by it, he was a good sort. "...the tent can wait a few minutes. Would you like to help lay Honeytail to rest?" he asked, offering the fox the needle and thread.
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Finn listened intently -- and nodded as if he understood. Charging a bow and arrow was foolhardy, and Finn had no desire to meet his end.
The activity helped keep his mind off the recent death of Honeytail, and his tail gave the tiniest wag as he scooped a stick off the ground and chased after Tultow.
The activity helped keep his mind off the recent death of Honeytail, and his tail gave the tiniest wag as he scooped a stick off the ground and chased after Tultow.
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Tultow schooled Finn in the basics of how to hide behind cover, how to use a hat or helmet on a stick to test for sharpshooters, how to stab down at an opponent from the high ground while protecting oneself, and as much as he could of basic swordsmanship. It was all too little, Tultow knew. He'd seen far braver and more competent beasts than this kit fall to truly senseless deaths, moments that should have been seen and avoided.
"There's one more lesson, lad," he added, kneeling down to speak to Finn on his level. "When your commander tells you to turn back and run, you turn and run. No heroic last stands, no making yourself a martyr for the songs to sing about. Dying pointlessly doesn't help your comrades. They might need you a minute, an hour, a day from now to save their lives. Dying for glory is the most foolish, selfish thing a soldier can do."
~ ~ ~
The interior of the hut was a wreck; the ceiling had caved in, leaving the floor covered with rubble and debris, and part of the ceiling smoldering where it had fallen into a cooking fire. There was a form on the ground, and movement, and blood. On closer inspection, the blood belonged to the body of a shrew dressed in a warm parka of a distinct style from those the warriors had worn, perhaps indicating a distinct social role or gender. It had apparently designated the shrew to be impaled by a falling support beam as a cannonball had ripped through the structure of the house. The squeaking noise that had drawn Greeneye's attention came from a small bundle still resting in the shrew's arms, tiny paws flailing as they fruitlessly worked at their caregiver's parka, perhaps seeking attention, or to shake them awake from a slumber they would never escape.
"What is it?" Piper called from outside, adjusting her crossbow and removing the safety, even as she kept it pointed at the ground for now.
"There's one more lesson, lad," he added, kneeling down to speak to Finn on his level. "When your commander tells you to turn back and run, you turn and run. No heroic last stands, no making yourself a martyr for the songs to sing about. Dying pointlessly doesn't help your comrades. They might need you a minute, an hour, a day from now to save their lives. Dying for glory is the most foolish, selfish thing a soldier can do."
~ ~ ~
The interior of the hut was a wreck; the ceiling had caved in, leaving the floor covered with rubble and debris, and part of the ceiling smoldering where it had fallen into a cooking fire. There was a form on the ground, and movement, and blood. On closer inspection, the blood belonged to the body of a shrew dressed in a warm parka of a distinct style from those the warriors had worn, perhaps indicating a distinct social role or gender. It had apparently designated the shrew to be impaled by a falling support beam as a cannonball had ripped through the structure of the house. The squeaking noise that had drawn Greeneye's attention came from a small bundle still resting in the shrew's arms, tiny paws flailing as they fruitlessly worked at their caregiver's parka, perhaps seeking attention, or to shake them awake from a slumber they would never escape.
"What is it?" Piper called from outside, adjusting her crossbow and removing the safety, even as she kept it pointed at the ground for now.
Greeneye froze in place. He was no stranger to these sorts of scenes. He had been raised among pirates. This fact did not stop the wave of coldness that suddenly racked his body, a different chill from the one caused by their icy environment. He didn’t answer when Piper first called out. This is the last thing they needed to deal with right now. Was it cruel to leave this child to its fate? The cold would likely take it before hunger would. That was the only consolation Greeneye could think of. The emotional burden would be too much for the others to bear, not to mention having another mouth to feed.
After a few minutes, he composed himself, and he turned away from the tragic scene which laid before him, walking out of the hut. He just silently hoped that no one else would hear the childs’ cries.
“It’s nothing.” He called out to Piper and Vihma. “I wouldn’t go in there, though. It’s a grisly scene.”
After a few minutes, he composed himself, and he turned away from the tragic scene which laid before him, walking out of the hut. He just silently hoped that no one else would hear the childs’ cries.
“It’s nothing.” He called out to Piper and Vihma. “I wouldn’t go in there, though. It’s a grisly scene.”
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Swifttail threw up his paws slightly as Barrett called out to him again, tail flicking behind him in protest.
“It’s up, isn’t it?” he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the canvas. “More rocks than stakes at this point, but she’s holdin’.”
His helper had already started weighing the stakes with snow-crusted stones. It wasn’t elegant, but it would do. They didn’t have time for elegant.
He was about to speak. Maybe he'd crack a remark about tents being temperamental beasts, when Barrett’s tone shifted. The old pine marten’s shoulders had sunk a bit, and the question came not as a barked order, but something more brittle.
Would he help bury the corporal?
Swifttail paused. He didn’t answer at first.
No. He didn’t want to.
He wanted to finish his job, pack up, and walk far away from the body stitched in canvas. He had just felt some sympathy for the gruff old beast who was tasked at doing it. Barrett reminded him of a lot of the elders in his village. Rough, quick to temper, and sometimes lashing out, but if you got past their unpleasantness, you'd find a fragile, sensitive beast beneath the course fur and thick hide.
Swifttail sighed through his nose.
He trudged over slowly, boots crunching on crusted snow, and knelt beside the pine marten. His eyes flicked toward the hammock, but he didn’t let them linger.
He rested his paws on his hips and looked at Barrett quietly.
“I’ve seen plenty of death,” he said softly. “I wish it wouldn’t hurt so bad still.”
“It’s up, isn’t it?” he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the canvas. “More rocks than stakes at this point, but she’s holdin’.”
His helper had already started weighing the stakes with snow-crusted stones. It wasn’t elegant, but it would do. They didn’t have time for elegant.
He was about to speak. Maybe he'd crack a remark about tents being temperamental beasts, when Barrett’s tone shifted. The old pine marten’s shoulders had sunk a bit, and the question came not as a barked order, but something more brittle.
Would he help bury the corporal?
Swifttail paused. He didn’t answer at first.
No. He didn’t want to.
He wanted to finish his job, pack up, and walk far away from the body stitched in canvas. He had just felt some sympathy for the gruff old beast who was tasked at doing it. Barrett reminded him of a lot of the elders in his village. Rough, quick to temper, and sometimes lashing out, but if you got past their unpleasantness, you'd find a fragile, sensitive beast beneath the course fur and thick hide.
Swifttail sighed through his nose.
He trudged over slowly, boots crunching on crusted snow, and knelt beside the pine marten. His eyes flicked toward the hammock, but he didn’t let them linger.
He rested his paws on his hips and looked at Barrett quietly.
“I’ve seen plenty of death,” he said softly. “I wish it wouldn’t hurt so bad still.”
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Vihma came to a pause when she saw the signal, looking around for any enemies that might be sneaking up on them, and then scanning the ruins around Greeneye. Vihma hadn't quite appreciated the level of destruction before. Much of the village had been shattered, some of it burned away. It was hard to believe beasts could survive what the Hide had laid down. But the dead ferret back at camp was proof they could, and that they could still be here, ready to strike.
She was silent, just looking and breathing. Watching Greeneye as the rat finally rose from the ruined hut and walked away from it. He seemed to be in order - to have recovered from whatever it was he'd seen. They seemed to be ready to continue.
"Yew alright, Greeneye?"
The weasel waited to catch up closer with him before asking, looking curiously back over at the hut as they drew near. The tip of it was smoking slightly, like many of the structures in the ruined village.
There was something more. Vihma stood alert, listening. There was a noise coming from the hut. Softly, through the limply open door. Like...
She cast a glance back towards Greeneye, then at Piper. Taking a deep breath, she set her bow down by the entrance, against the hut, letting the arrow fall beside. Then, cutlass drawn, she crept through the doorway Greeneye had came from...
"Piper," she called back after a short time, voice suddenly unsteady, unsure - though she tried to sound strong, in command. This scouting foray had been her idea, after all. Her mission.
"Come 'ere for a moment."
She was silent, just looking and breathing. Watching Greeneye as the rat finally rose from the ruined hut and walked away from it. He seemed to be in order - to have recovered from whatever it was he'd seen. They seemed to be ready to continue.
"Yew alright, Greeneye?"
The weasel waited to catch up closer with him before asking, looking curiously back over at the hut as they drew near. The tip of it was smoking slightly, like many of the structures in the ruined village.
There was something more. Vihma stood alert, listening. There was a noise coming from the hut. Softly, through the limply open door. Like...
She cast a glance back towards Greeneye, then at Piper. Taking a deep breath, she set her bow down by the entrance, against the hut, letting the arrow fall beside. Then, cutlass drawn, she crept through the doorway Greeneye had came from...
"Piper," she called back after a short time, voice suddenly unsteady, unsure - though she tried to sound strong, in command. This scouting foray had been her idea, after all. Her mission.
"Come 'ere for a moment."
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Barrett held the needle and thread for a moment, before realizing he'd overestimated how willing Swift was to help. Many young beasts aboard the Hide were a rough and tumble sort, and took morbid interest in many things. Watching a grisly procedure could be seen as a badge of courage. Helping care for the dead could build camraderie, for the right sort of beast. But while Swift was willing to participate, it didn't seem to be his forte.
The pine marten gathered the folds of the hammock up, and continued sewing it shut quietly. "Don't wish that. 's a good thing that it hurts still," he mused. "Scar tissue gives you a tough pelt, but it makes you inflexible. 'fn you still feel things, 's a good thing to hold onto." Closing the hammock off, Barrett looked at the lifeless form, and then to Swift. The final stitch was supposed to go through the nose, just to make sure the beast was truly dead -- but it was an unpleasant ordeal. At this point, it was a traditional formality. It could wait.
As Barrett stood, he reached down to offer a paw to pull Swift to his feet. Abruptly, he changed the topic. "Finn speaks well of you. I don't think Morgan would have made it without you hunting down Kaii to make that valve."
The pine marten gathered the folds of the hammock up, and continued sewing it shut quietly. "Don't wish that. 's a good thing that it hurts still," he mused. "Scar tissue gives you a tough pelt, but it makes you inflexible. 'fn you still feel things, 's a good thing to hold onto." Closing the hammock off, Barrett looked at the lifeless form, and then to Swift. The final stitch was supposed to go through the nose, just to make sure the beast was truly dead -- but it was an unpleasant ordeal. At this point, it was a traditional formality. It could wait.
As Barrett stood, he reached down to offer a paw to pull Swift to his feet. Abruptly, he changed the topic. "Finn speaks well of you. I don't think Morgan would have made it without you hunting down Kaii to make that valve."
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Piper glanced searching at Greeneye before she heard Vihma's call from within the hut. She raised her crossbow, flipped the safety, and advanced in-
And slowly lowered the crossbow as she saw the scene. Her breath caught in her throat, and slowly, she set the crossbow down on the floor, setting the safety once more as she did so. "Oh. Oh no," she breathed. Slowly, carefully, she advanced on the body and the tiny form atop it. "Oh, sweet saints an' sinners." The infant was clearly at least a few months old, a layer of fuzzy fur on its body; its small, beady eyes were shut, though whether from the stinging smoke that must have permeated the hut until recently, the acrid tang of which still hung in the air, or from some other cause, neither of the vermin could tell.
Cautiously she advanced to the prone form and, carefully, she picked up the infant. The infant squirmed a bit feebly, its long nose sniffing at the unfamiliar beast, and resumed its plaintive squeaks. "Oh, you poor baby," Piper cooed. "You must be cold and hungry." She glanced about the hut, taking stock of what had survived its destruction. "Vihma," she requested, nodding at a jar of some gelatinous amber substance on a shelf. "Can you pick up that, and that bag of powdered mealworm? In a pinch, fish oil and powdered protein does well for feeding young'uns. Should be enough to keep 'em fed. An' that stack of cloth too," she added as an afterthought. "That'll do for nappies."
And slowly lowered the crossbow as she saw the scene. Her breath caught in her throat, and slowly, she set the crossbow down on the floor, setting the safety once more as she did so. "Oh. Oh no," she breathed. Slowly, carefully, she advanced on the body and the tiny form atop it. "Oh, sweet saints an' sinners." The infant was clearly at least a few months old, a layer of fuzzy fur on its body; its small, beady eyes were shut, though whether from the stinging smoke that must have permeated the hut until recently, the acrid tang of which still hung in the air, or from some other cause, neither of the vermin could tell.
Cautiously she advanced to the prone form and, carefully, she picked up the infant. The infant squirmed a bit feebly, its long nose sniffing at the unfamiliar beast, and resumed its plaintive squeaks. "Oh, you poor baby," Piper cooed. "You must be cold and hungry." She glanced about the hut, taking stock of what had survived its destruction. "Vihma," she requested, nodding at a jar of some gelatinous amber substance on a shelf. "Can you pick up that, and that bag of powdered mealworm? In a pinch, fish oil and powdered protein does well for feeding young'uns. Should be enough to keep 'em fed. An' that stack of cloth too," she added as an afterthought. "That'll do for nappies."
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Swifttail nodded slowly at Barrett’s words, letting them settle into his chest like coals banked in a hearth.
It was true. Death should hurt. If it didn’t, if you started shrugging it off like a cracked gear, what did that say about the kind of beast you were becoming?
He didn’t say anything at first. Just let the silence linger as he eyed the other helper beast tightening the tent lines further.
When Barrett changed the subject, though, Swifttail looked up and couldn’t help the small wag of his tail.
“Wasn’t anything special,” he said with a sheepish rub at the back of his neck. “Just imagined what that pipe in Morgan’s chest must’ve felt like. Didn’t much like the idea of breathin’ in through a hole in my ribs.”
He shrugged slightly, ears flicking back.
“Didn’t think it’d be anything more than somethin’ worth tryin’.”
It was true. Death should hurt. If it didn’t, if you started shrugging it off like a cracked gear, what did that say about the kind of beast you were becoming?
He didn’t say anything at first. Just let the silence linger as he eyed the other helper beast tightening the tent lines further.
When Barrett changed the subject, though, Swifttail looked up and couldn’t help the small wag of his tail.
“Wasn’t anything special,” he said with a sheepish rub at the back of his neck. “Just imagined what that pipe in Morgan’s chest must’ve felt like. Didn’t much like the idea of breathin’ in through a hole in my ribs.”
He shrugged slightly, ears flicking back.
“Didn’t think it’d be anything more than somethin’ worth tryin’.”
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Finn kept a tight grip on his stick as the stoat instructed him, and gave a good solid stab and swipe from the ramparts. The practical things, especially pertaining to sword swinging, came naturally to him. It was easy for him to visualize stabbing at a shrew.
The abstract things however, were a touch more difficult for him to grasp and imagine. It was easy for him to understand having to take cover from shrews with bows and arrows, but he couldn't quite imagine how such a situation might arise. He nodded along, but there was a certain vacancy in his expression that hinted at his lack of understanding.
Tultow's discourse on retreat and sacrifice had his full attention, and it left him deep in thought. Immediately, Morgan and his father came to mind. Both of them had run out to rescue someone at great cost... Had they thrown their lives away?
The foxkit's stick drooped, and he poked at the dirt as he pondered. "Hey, Lieutenant? ...but what if..." he asked, struggling to put together the questions in his mind. "...what if there's a retreat, and... And... Someone trips? You don't just leave them, right?" he asked, digging his stick down into the dirt. "Ok you shouldn't risk your life, but... What if you have to? Is that 'foolish'?"
The abstract things however, were a touch more difficult for him to grasp and imagine. It was easy for him to understand having to take cover from shrews with bows and arrows, but he couldn't quite imagine how such a situation might arise. He nodded along, but there was a certain vacancy in his expression that hinted at his lack of understanding.
Tultow's discourse on retreat and sacrifice had his full attention, and it left him deep in thought. Immediately, Morgan and his father came to mind. Both of them had run out to rescue someone at great cost... Had they thrown their lives away?
The foxkit's stick drooped, and he poked at the dirt as he pondered. "Hey, Lieutenant? ...but what if..." he asked, struggling to put together the questions in his mind. "...what if there's a retreat, and... And... Someone trips? You don't just leave them, right?" he asked, digging his stick down into the dirt. "Ok you shouldn't risk your life, but... What if you have to? Is that 'foolish'?"
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Tultow looked at the kit pityingly, recognizing a hard lesson that needed to be taught. "You're thinking of your friend, aren't you?" he asked softly. "The one who rescued the fox from the water. That was a very brave thing she did, going out like that. Damn near heroic, I'd say." He took a deep breath before he added, "But, it was also dangerous and ill-advised. She went out to rescue another beast from danger - and, in the process, she got injured herself. What if someone else then had to go out into the water to save both of them? What if that beast got injured, and another had to go to rescue all three of them? This is how good, strong units can fall: because sometimes, our love..." He faltered for a moment, taking a breath before continuing, his voice breaking for a second, "Our love for our fellow soldiers can drive us into the arms of death ourselves. Sometimes the first beast that needs saving, the one we have to rescue before they ever go into danger, is ourselves. Ourselves, and the ones who would come after us."
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