Expedition [Urk Climax #1]: The Long Watch

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn was overwhelmed by the battle. There was more chaos than he'd ever seen, and he felt utterly lost. What direction should he head? Who should he help first? The poor foxkit had tunnelvision -- whatever he looked at was so intense it occupied his entire thought process. Poor Vilde was overlooked, as Finn had spied a particular wounded stoat hunkered down on the ramparts, and it was all he could think about.

Finn started off towards the perimeter of the camp, clutching at his satchel to keep it from jostling. Just as he began to draw near, Tultow started yelling and pointing over the walls. The foxkit ran all the more quickly, and scrambled up next to the lieutenant. Once he saw the arrow protruding out of Tultow's shoulder, all Finn's training went right out the window. When Morgan had a similar wound, there was nothing he could do about it -- and it was nearly fatal. "Lieutenant Tultow, sir! How'd you got shot!? I don't... I can't... w-we need to get you to Barrett!"

But the stoat refused to budge. "Get Silvertongue to him first!"

Finn didn't know what to do. The smart thing would have been to help trim down the arrow. It'd lessen the chance it would get bumped or budged, worsening Tultow's wound -- but Finn hadn't been taught to do that yet. Still, he couldn't bear to leave the stoat alone. If he left now, his entire trip to the ramparts would have been wasted.

"But lieutenant, you said...!" he protested earnestly. However, the stoat would have none of it. "That's an order, lad!" The foxkit sat still in stunned silence, unable to comprehend why Tultow was ordering him away. A hail of arrows thudded into the wooden fortifications, and snapped him out of his daze. "S-sir!" Finn took one last look at the stoat, turned, and ran for Silvertongue and Swifttail.

 

[Arthur Barrett]

Barrett, in the mean time, had already started to receive the wounded. Those carrying their shipmates into the infirmary were pressed into service bandaging the wounded. Lacerations and arrow wounds were plenty -- and the dead were already starting to pile up in one corner of the tent. As chaotic as things were, there was no time to sew the hammocks up.

As Kaii came in alone, the pine marten saw to him personally. The marble fox was a shell of his normal awkward self, and while Arthur was grieved to see him like this, said nothing that would draw attention to it. The kit was doing well. "Steady Mr. Nah-shee-roo... Just a scratch. I'll have you patched up quick like." True to his word, the fox's largest wounds were quickly bandaged, and Arthur sent him out.

Barrett's small round ears perked as he heard the tent open again, and all eyes turned to make sure it wasn't a shrew entering. The pine marten expressed some dismay seeing Silvie and Swifttail enter, but his current patient had him fully occupied. Fortunately, Swift was an archer, and had a good head on his shoulders. Barrett expected he had an intuitive understanding of arrow wounds, and pressed him into service.

"Swift, you'll need to take care of Mr. Songfox. There are some cutters on the table. Clip off the arrowhead, draw the shaft straight out, and put direct pressure over the wound. Let me know if the blood is squirting out, or only dripping. If it is squirting, you shall need a tourniquet! Call me over, and I'll help you apply one," he said directly.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail gave a slow nod to Barrett, though his eyes didn’t quite focus. Everything felt too loud, too bright. The battle’s chaos beyond the tent flaps, the weight of Silvertongue sagging against him, the throbbing fire in his broken paw...it all swirled together into a numbing haze. Still, he moved.

He turned to the table, paw trembling as he reached for the cutters. With his good paw, he snatched a roll of gauze, holding it awkwardly between elbow and ribs while he fumbled with the tool.

He looked to Silvertongue, his eyes searching. “I’m sorry, Silvie,” he murmured, voice thick. “It’s gotta come out. Brace yourself, alright?”

Silvertongue gave a brief, brave nod.

Swifttail grit his teeth and maneuvered the cutters into place. The wrist was slick with blood, and every movement sent fresh jolts of pain up not just Silvertongue's arm, but his own arm too. But he got the angle. With a grim set to his jaw, he snipped the shaft close to the wound.

He tossed the severed shaft aside and looked into Silvie’s eyes mournfully, not wanting the to take the next step and inflict even more pain on the Songfox.

Then, he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, and he gripped what was left of the arrow and pulled.

Blood welled immediately, hot and red against pale fur. Swifttail didn’t hesitate. He pressed gauze hard to both sides of the wound, broken paw shaking but still helping as best it could.

He held his breath. Waiting for poor Silvie's reaction and to see how bad the wound was.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

A sharp cry escaped Silvertongue's lips as the arrow was pulled from his arm. He quickly bit his tongue, burying his head in Swifttail's shoulder. "I'm alright- I'm alright-" He whimpered, his voice trembling.

The blood squirted out from his arm, just like Barret had said. It would need a tourniquet, and quickly.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail was trying. He really was. His broken paw throbbed with every heartbeat, the pain blooming up his arm like fire. But he grit his teeth and focused on Silvertongue, whose head had come to rest against his shoulder. For the briefest moment, everything was still. Just the warmth of Silvie's breath, the soft press of fur against fur, the rush of quiet comfort amid all the noise. But then Swifttail felt the dampness spread through the gauze in beats. His ears twitched sharply. The wound was bleeding out.

“Silvie, keep pressure on it! Right there!” he urged, gently but firmly guiding Silvertongue's paw over the gauze.

He turned and half-stumbled to a nearby table where supplies had been laid out in a chaotic sprawl. He found a tourniquet, grabbed it, and hurried back. His paws were shaking now.

"Alright...alright, this'll help. Hold still."

He crouched beside Silvertongue and began wrapping the cloth strap. The material pulled tight, but his grip faltered. His broken paw refused to hold the tension. He hissed, jaw clenched, trying again, but the strap slipped, useless.

"Hell's teeth..." he whimpered. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. His breath came fast, shallow. This wasn’t working. He wasn’t strong enough.

The tourniquet dangled loose in one paw as the other trembled against Silvertongue’s arm. He blinked hard and turned, eyes finding Barrett across the tent. His voice was barely more than a whisper, cracked and breathless:

"Mr. Barrett... help!"

 

[Arthur Barrett]

This was Barrett's infirmary. Nothing slipped past his notice. Somehow, he had kept an eye -- not only on his patient -- but on all the proceedings. The rat at the end of the infirmary didn't have much longer to live. The one next to him would need stitches soon. And the two foxes were just about to need help with the tourniquet.

Leaving the ferrett he was working on, Barrett dipped his paws in a bowl of water to rinse them off. A cloud of red bloomed out of his fur, and he flicked the water off them briskly before wiping them on a towel. "Let's have a look at that arm there, Mr. Songfox..." he said warmly as he took Silvie's forearm in his paw. He manipulated it delicately, probing lightly along the bones to make sure nothing was broken. It wouldn't do much good putting the tourniquet this low if the longbones were broken. Satisfied with his findings, he gave the windlass a few firm twists until the bleeding stopped. "We'll check your tendons once the bleeding's under control... And as for you, Mr. Fairpaws... what's happened to your wrist?"

Barrett transitioned to the platinum fox, and took his paw, while the other supported his elbow. No bleeding... a break? No visible deformities though... a fall? Blunt force? His fingertips gently probed along the back of Swifttail's paw as he explained what happened, and lightly squeezed at the base of his thumb. A fall, then? With a twist... Gingerly, Arthur turned the fox's paw over, and elicited a cry of pain from the poor fox. Barrett clucked his tongue, and grimaced.

"It hurts here?" he asked, probing lightly along the outside of Swifttail's forearm, just shy of his wrist. Colles' fracture... The pine marten fetched a stiff bit of bandaging cut from old sailcloth, and after two wraps around the injured arm, wove a stick into the bandaging. Looking up, he locked eyes with Swifttail to make sure the message got across. "I'm sorry Mr. Swifttail, it's broken. It should set just fine, but you won't be using your bow any time soon... best get a sword quickly. Mr. Songfox -- sit for a moment, get some water."

Not for a lack of care, Barrett was off again to another patient -- though he kept an eye to the mountains. Any time now, captain...

 

[Duchess Dusk Rainblade]

The marines were covering for the injured sailors as best they could, firing off as many rounds as they could manage into the massive shrew while beating back oncoming regular shrews. Tultow was relieved to see that Piper was at her best form; she had her reload, aim, and fire to under ten seconds, and was peppering that monstrous shrew with bolts. Still, it kept advancing, and their numbers were dwindling fast, with no slowdown in the shrew reinforcements. They must have recruited neighboring tribes to help, Tultow realized in dismay. The Vulpinsulans simply didn't have the numbers to withstand the attack, and if they called in a barrage from the Hide, they risked being blown up themselves.

A voice, accented in a way that Tultow couldn't quite place, called out through the mist, and he whirled to see a savage wildcat of some kind entering camp, hailing them. Normally Tultow would want to question the stranger and their intentions, but this wasn't the time for that. He pointed at the massive shrew nearly upon them, and he yelled, "HELP BRING THAT DOWN, AND I'LL GET YOU OFF THIS ROCK!"

Too late; with a swing of his mace, the shrew burst through the barricades, and he was inside the camp. Tultow watched in dismay as Piper, the closest to it, hurriedly tried to reload in time to get off a shot. She managed to get it wound and snapped it up to her shoulder just as the shrew swung that mace of his, right into her side. The bolt went flying wide as Piper was flung sideways, crashing into the ramparts, and fell still. Tultow's heart leaped into his throat as it did whenever a soldier fell; he couldn't tell if she was dead or just down, but the distinction didn't matter in this moment. "ALL BEASTS MELEE! GET UP CLOSE, SURROUND FROM ALL SIDES!"

 

[Kaii Nashirou]

Thanks to Chirurgeon actions, Kaii could now focus on just one of his tasks. Medical support area seemed safe, he himself was patched enough to not lose more blood and the ones he swore to protect were taken care of. That meant the biggest enemy was now the priority number one.

He already ran out of nails he was shooting, satisfied to see as some of them found their target and caused some deep, bleeding wounds. Thus he reattached the blade onto the pole, extended it and stood up.

Despite still acting mechanically, he found it adequate to turn to Swifttail and Silvertongue and speak, even if his voice was plain and emotionless. "Take care of each other. You needn't fight any more." And he left the tent before any response could be made.

Just in time to hear the request to surround the beast. He rushed over, exerting his body to get closer. That was exactly why he trained with polearms. The range he now had would be crucial in saving his life.

So he did move closer in a calculated manner. His biggest advantage was his range, his biggest weakness was inability to get hit. That is why in seconds he took to get close he established a four step plan that should get job done.

First he used the fact the beast was now getting surrounded. It had too many targets to deal with them all. So he approached it from the side, managing to kill or wound shrews on his way with broad swipes.

Then he hewed, cutting down from above into the beast flesh. Leaving horrific, deep cut on the shoulder.

Naturally the beast needed a moment to both scream and react, He pulled the blade back and pounced to get the final blow. Missing the spot he aimed at but still getting a good cut.

Unfortunately his weakened body failed to do the quick recovery after he threw himself. He aimed to do the last strike into the head but was too slow, this barbarian's mace was already closing at him.

Kaii attacked the mace, to bounce it and buy him time. His arms struggled with the force of the strike but it wasn't a problem.

The problem came when he felt massive pain in his side as he flew back.

Because kicking was not something he anticipated.

And that is why he now laid in the mud, no longer able to ignore the accumulated pain due to many broken ribs he now had.

He sobbed, tears flew freely but he barely managed to stand up. Using his glaive for support.

He had promises to fulfil and death always came before dishonour.

 

[Vihmastaja]

The battle went poorly. Beasts fell all around to the arrows and spears of shrews just out of sight around the perimeter's scattered torches, deathly shadows moving throughout the foggy night. There was too much going on for her to be aware of it all, occupied as she was with staying alive herself.

Vihma hadn't yet ran out of arrows when the final barricade fell, smashed aside by the largest shrew the weasel had ever seen. She watched, wide eyed but silent, without even a curse, long past the point of incredulity. If anything, she felt a strange calm, collecting her senses before falling back into the camp, now swarming with the enemy.

She barely made it to the new perimeter, a spear raking the fur on her back as she threw herself over a barrel - the last small barricade between her and the besieged camp. The weasel fell to the snow below, writhing in the moment's agony.

Why this cursed island? Why here, again?

Blinking pain and moisture from her eyes, Vihma staggered to her feet, leaving her bow and quiver in the snow. With an unsteady paw, she drew her cutlass, breathing hard for focus.

Calm. That was the only way she was getting out of this alive. Nowhere to run, no one to save her but the rest of the crew.

There were multiple dangers. Shrews advancing on them, projectiles sailing their way. A strange wildcat in their midst. There wasn't time to worry about them all, barely time to try and survive one of them.

The big shrew was the first concern - the berserker that had smashed its way into the camp. Where it went, more would follow, she knew. Maybe if it went down...

Then she saw Piper. The weasel was unmoving, strewn about like a forgotten cloth amidst the camp's miserable fortifications.

Vihma wavered then. Swaying slightly in her step from shock, she just stood there, breathing.

No tears, Vihma. You hardly knew her. No tears. Not yet.

Rubbing her eyes with her free paw, the weasel sniffed and moved on, trying to clear her head. She... she had her orders.

The weasel managed to get herself into the fray, dodging arrows and batting away slim spears with the flat of her blade. One of the foxes from the engine room had thrown himself at the shrew champion - she could see him fall, kicked away. Hurrying, she fought her way towards the beast, keeping herself and her blade between the foe and the recovering fox.

 

[Greeneye]

Greeneye seemed completely unaware of the fact his crewmates were struggling behind him. He was far deeper into enemy territory than he should have been, surrounded by shrew corpses. He hacked, slashed, and stabbed in a mindless rage, a fury in his eye. It wasn’t until he heard the commotion from the camp that he finally noticed the shrew champion.

“Finally, a challenge.” He said with a smirk, a glint in his eye. He ran forward, wading past shrews and imperial alike to run forward and leap at the champion, only for the massive shrew to swing his mace into the rat’s stomach, sending Greeneye soaring through the air and slamming into some crates, where he groaned and laid for a moment, struggling to stand.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail stood in stunned silence a breath longer than he meant to. Silvertongue was alive. The bleeding had stopped. But his own heartbeat still thudded in his ears like it hadn't gotten the message. His eyes held on Silvertongue’s form, unwilling to look away, unwilling to move.

But he did....He turned and left. The medical tent was no longer safe and it needed defending. Shouts rang out too close. The lines were breaking.

Swifttail kept low, weaving between collapsed crates and scattered gear as he darted through the edges of camp. Snow churned underpaw. A wounded marine groaned somewhere behind him. The clash of metal and the screams of beasts ricocheted between the tents. Still he moved.

The makeshift armory was little more than a rack and a tarp, weapons lined up in utilitarian rows. Government issue. Most of the swords were too big and heavy. Swifttail’s left paw throbbed uselessly at his side, but his right was still his own. Still strong. He found a short blade that was battered, lightly pocked with age, but sharp. It would do.

He gripped the hilt. He’d helped forge a sword like this once, back in Iskatyut. That one had gone to a guardsbeast. This one would go to war. He’d never wanted his life to reach this point where he would have to use a sword in combat, yet here he was.

The sounds of the fight pulled him back. He emerged from the rack into chaos.

Tultow's voice rang through the din, ordering the lines to surround the utterly enormous shrew. Kaii was ahead, locked in combat with the same monstrous thing. Vihma was nearby, striking, repositioning, breathing hard. And Greeneye...The rat charged. Foolish. Fearless. He went down moments later.

Swifttail didn’t move to help. A fire sparked in his chest, bitter and bright. He remembered Silvertongue’s pain. Greeneye’s joke. The way he hadn’t cared.

Let him lie there.

Instead, Swifttail moved toward the edges of the fight, slipping into the blind spots of the smaller shrews flanking the beast. He struck fast, sweeping low with one paw, blade flashing once, twice. A shrew went down with a gurgle. Another turned too late.

He didn’t count his kills. He let himself become numb. He moved like he used to fight the forge, faster than the flame could burn him.

By the time the press thinned, his sword was nicked and his shoulders ached, but no blood marked his fur. Not his own, anyway.

He slipped in beside Kaii, sword raised.

“You alright, Kaii?!”

 

[Kaii Nashirou]

Kaii sharply turned his head to the familiar voice. Swifttail. Here. In Danger. His Mind was too overworked to think in full sentences, but it registered the obvious part. His friend presence here was a bother. He couldn't defend him while he fought and he was already wounded.

But he chose to be there. And faired well. Reasonably Kaii disagreed with such outcome. Life however, never was following logic.

"I am not. But I am not stopping till my duty is done." A plain statement, muttered with hitched breath due to broken ribs. Kaii coughed once and felt blood on his tongue. Not good.

Spotting an oncoming shrew from behind Swift he forced himself to lunge at them, blade going just inches away from his friend. Piercing the shrew through their stomach was easy but his limited strength make him collapse again. This time having to muster way more will to get up.

"Gaah, Just... don't. Get. Hurt. Please." Kaii said through clenched teeth. So hard so his snout muscles trembled. His tail was still, his ears flat and his gaze... dead. "You have. Someone. To live for."

He still managed to turn around, looking at the giant shrew and one of the Hide weasels standing in between. Protecting him in a way. He remembered to later thank her properly. For now he moved slowly towards them.

"Wounded their... forearm. " He spoke to the weasel. "And. Their side. They have slow... reaction. We. Must. Encircle. Them." He struggles to straighten, lifting his glaive oncce more to fight.

 

[Vilde Isdatter]

Confident she only had to be concerned with the shrews now, Vilde charged for the great flame-shrew at the stoat’s command. As she drew close, she eyed the fox with the bladed pole making a valiant effort before being kicked away. Before the wildcat could arrive to do so herself, a weasel leapt in to guard the fallen todd.

This menace of a shrew was getting its whacks in everywhere it could, next punting an unfortunate rat with its ugly mace. That at least gave more time for another fox to assist in guarding the one with the pole.

Elbowing a leaping shrew in the throat on her approach, Vilde caught sight of a young fox deliberating how to join in the fight.

“Flank him, little one!” she called, grinning with the thrill of the fight. “YOU! Brannrumpe! I am here!”

With a yowl only a cat can make, Vilde held up her shield and swung at the brute with her axe.​

 

[Duchess Dusk Rainblade]

The flame-shrew was growling and thrashing about as cuts and blows crept past his guard. No sooner did he land a blow on one rat than a fox snuck a slash to his side past his defense. He turned and swung, missing, giving an opportunity for the wildcat to jump into rang. He tried to swing his mace at her, but she was already inside his range, her shield blocking his blow before he could get enough momentum behind it to batter through her defense. An ax embedded in his shoulder, causing his free arm to spasm wildly before it went dead. He roared in pain, dropping his mace to instead bring his fist down and catch the wildcat by the neck, trying ineffectually to throttle her with a single paw. Whatever he said was not in a language that any of them spoke, but it was fair to assume that "I kill you" was not an inaccurate translation.

Tultow, who had been keeping at the edge of the melee, only daring to dance in for a fruitless strike here and there, saw the opportunity. "NOW!" he yelled, running in and sliding to stab his sidearm into the shrew's leg, and he kept stabbing, praying that he wouldn't be crushed when this thing went down.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn dashed towards the infirmary, gripping the sword hilt in one paw, and holding his medical satchel in the other paw. He finally caught sight of Silvertongue and Swifttail -- just as they disappeared into the tent. The foxkit slowly came to a stop in the middle of the battlefield, disappointed that he'd been ineffective so far in battle. Was Tultow just sending him away to keep him away from the frontlines?

The fox nearly leapt out of his fur when he heard the giant shrew break through the perimeter defenses. Finn spun on his heel to face the foe, and spotted Kaii getting knocked back by it's mace. "Kaii!" he called out, attempting to draw his sword from it's sheath. Unfortunately, Finn was so short he didn't have enough arm reach to fully draw the sword. The fox stumbled and staggered as he tried to pull the tip free, and finally had to use both paws.

Just as he freed the blade, a lynx ran past him -- and that was a first. Though Finn didn't know everyone on the Hide, he was pretty sure there weren't any felines. In any case, the lynx clearly wanted a diversion, and the foxkit was more than happy to provide. Finn sprinted around behind the shrew (minding the massive club that it weilded) and swung his sword towards the beast's heel.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue stayed in the tent at first, even as the din of battle raged on outside. Swifttail quickly departed to rejoin the fray. Silvertongue looked at his arm. His injured arm. He tried to move it, and it seemed fine. It was when he moved his paw that the pain spiked. So... no use of that arm. Silvertongue sighed, and he sat his lute aside. He had one other option... his right paw lingered on the grip of his rapier. The wretched thing. He grinded his teeth just at the mere touch of it. He hated it. An instrument of destruction, created for no other purpose than to bring forth pain, suffering, and death. He loathed the very thought of using it. He only kept the rapier to honor his late father.

"Coward..." A voice, not Silvertongue's, whispered from within the depths of his mind. "You would sit here, pretty and pampered, while your crewmates put life and limb on the line? Your father was right about one thing... you are a weakling."

"I'm not a coward..." Silvertongue muttered to himself. "I'm not weak."

"Liar... and a pathetic one, too. Or are you so dull, perhaps, that you've already forgotten how you were mewling like a babe out there mere minutes ago?" The voice taunted.

Silvertongue grimaced, a snarl forming on his lips.

"Oh ho ho, you want to get feisty with me, now? Why don't you go out there and prove me wrong." The voice chuckled darkly. "Show me your true potential, Songfox. Show all of them what you have hidden away for far too long~"

Silvertongue took off his hat, setting that aside, and he carefully removed his beautiful purple and blue doublet, leaving only a white undershirt between him and the cold Urk air.

He stepped out of the tent, drawing his rapier with a flourish, the blade whining as it swung through the air. Even a damnable blade could be made to sing in Silvertongue's paw.

He walked forward, with a darkness in his eyes that had never been seen before by the crew. Three shrews broke through the lines and charged at Swifttail and Kaii. Silvertongue was a blur, the fox dashing forward and running each and one of them through in quick succession. The fact that he fared so well with a rapier, likely made his earlier choice to fight with a lute all the more bizarre in the eyes of his friends. Though, there would be time for questions later. Now was the time for fighting. Now was the time for fury.