Expedition [Urk Climax #1]: The Long Watch

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn clung to Swift as he was dragged closer to the shore -- half fighting to free himself, half trying to regain his footing. Even with only one arm though, the older fox had him beat square. Finn clenched his teeth and squinted his eyes shut, ashamed of the spectacle that he was -- a blubbering dibbun being sent to bed early. But they were leaving the Captain! And Kaii! They were running, and -- "Finn!"

The fox kit's rampant thoughts were derailed by a stinging smack across his face. Finding himself plunked down on his tail, Finn looked up in shock at Swift. Before he could say anything though, he was pulled tight into an embrace.

"...it's not fair."

From his position, Finn could see the scar on Swift's muzzle, and fragments of an old conversation suddenly flashed into his mind.

"Does it still hurt?"

"It don't hurt no more, mate. Not for years now."

"D'dja get any of them?"

"Truth be told, I had no fight in me. No plan. Like a kit, I was runnin' scared. Then... I was seeing stars."

"G-gates Swift, 'm sorry... I didn't know..."

"It's alright, lad. Skeletons in the closet... ye' keep 'em hidden away an focus on the life that the fates granted ya."

It wasn't fair -- and yet Swift wasn't complaining. He just played the hand he was delt as best he could. Finn huffed, and scrubbed his face with his paws. Inspired by his friend, determination for the final push set in. "...we're not gonna leave anyone behind. Not Kaii, not Silvie, not Tultow, and not the Cap'n!"

Pushing himself to his feet, the foxkit dusted the sand off his uniform.

"...oh, or Piper and the shrewbabe. We aren't forgetting them either." Turning to look down at Swift, a wicked grin spread over his muzzle as he watched the chaos unfolding in camp. Silvie had his paws full... and might not notice a particular foxkit missing from the shore. "There's a dress among the crew, Swift... and Silvie's wearing it. Maybe we can use that to our advantage?"

 

[Silvertongue and Greeneye]

Greeneye had finally made it into the medical tent, and saw all the chaos. It seemed the retreat order was in full effect. "Ugh, what der hell...?" He groaned and held onto his chest. Who was organizing all this with Tultow unconcious? That's when he saw Silvertongue storm into the tent, his presence demanding attention. Not in the usual "Look at me sing and dance" style, but something more commanding.

"Silvie, where der hell did yew go?!" Greeneye asked, an eyebrow raised. "Did ye plan ter just leave me unconcious in der snow? I had ter be helped by a complete stranger!"

"I had other beasts to attend to, Greeneye. If you can still stand, help out the other wounded to the boats." Silvertongue responded, coldly. He was not exactly in the mood to deal with his partner at the moment. He walked past the rat to head out the other side of the tent.

"Hey, I am talkin' to yew!" Greeneye grabbed Silvertongue's arm and yanked him back.

Silvertongue whirled about, angrily. "I don't have time for this! There are beasts out there that need help!" He yanked his own arm away. "I realize you were out of the loop for this bit, but I am the commanding officer here right now. You need to stay out of my way right now, and that's an ORDER."

"Oh? An order?" Greeneye asked, a scowl forming on his face- but before he could speak, Silvertongue acted first, grabbing Greeneye by the chin.

"Yes, an order. If there is any part of you left in that rotted husk of your soul that still cares about me- the Greeneye that I knew when I was a scared little kit... if he's in there, he'll swallow his damned ego and do as I say."

He threw Greeneye to the ground and turned about on his foot. Greeneye sat up on the ground, stunned. "Silvie... this trip... these beasts... somefink's changed ye."

Silvertongue ingored him, marching out of the tent without another word. He had to turn away, so none of the crew would see the tears streaming down his face.

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Tultow could feel his chest constricting in on him. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and he was swiftly realizing that he wasn't going to make it off the island. Worse, there'd be no time to haul his corpse to the ship, but Honeytail had already been taken to the boats to be brought back aboard the Hide and given a burial at sea. The stoat felt queasy at the thought of his body being abandoned to whatever vengeance the shrews would wreak upon it. Maybe the crew would at least light the camp on fire to prevent the shrews from using anything, and leave him in the ashes.

He saw Finn running to fetch a vial, felt a little relief that he at least wouldn't be suffering at the end - and then he saw the color of the vial. The gold. His heart leaped into his chest, and his eyes widened. "No," he whispered, too quiet to be heard. That medicine was supposed to go to important beasts, valuable beasts, beasts who had something to live for. He was of no use to anyone anymore. Worse, though, was what that vial could do. He'd heard about its effects, and that torment... That was a bad way to go. It was too late, though. Reaching him, Finn poured the vial into his mouth - and then Tultow lost all track of the kit and the world as his entire body erupted into pain.

It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, like a thousand bee stings everywhere at once had triggered a massive allergic reaction. He couldn't tell if he screamed; in his head, the pain was all he could feel, agony all he could hear. He couldn't tell if he thrashed, couldn't tell if he was even on the gurney anymore or if he'd rolled off it. All he knew was that, eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the pain faded away.

Tultow felt oddly numb. That was a bad sign; pain existed to tell you what was injured and to avoid making it worse. As he picked himself up, he couldn't feel the ground beneath his paws; he saw it and was aware of it, he felt the gravitational pull, but his whole body was numb to sensation. It was almost disorienting as he pushed himself up to his footpaws, swaying a moment as he found his balance. He could breathe, at least for now - but he hated to think of what was happening inside his chest with his cracked and broken ribs. Still, he could feel power racing through his muscles, his heart pounding like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest.

I'm going to die.

The thought entered his head as he stood, moving swiftly to reach Piper. She was sobbing, unable to move, the shrewbabe having been taken from her arms already. Tultow reached smoothly under her and lifted her with one arm supporting her legs and another supporting her knees. As he lifted, he knew he should be in agony, but he wasn't. Still, the medicine wasn't magic or a miracle; it might be allowing him to function past his injuries, but the minister had been very clear that it only deferred the pain and injury, not healing it. He could do what he had to do, but even if he somehow survived, by the time he was done, his body would be unusable. He'd be classified as medically unfit after this, forced into an early retirement, to live the rest of his life miserable on a military pension.

Sod that.

Tultow burst from the tent, hurrying to carry Piper to the boats. "Clear the way!" he bellowed, hurrying through the crowd of panicking navybeasts and pushing his way to the boats. He recognized Swifttail and Finn, talking to each other as they loaded the boats. "Lads!" he called, then, carefully, he set Piper down on the ground nearby. "Be ready to pull out the second the injured are loaded," he warned. "Silvertongue is in charge of the retreat. Follow him like he was your own captain, understood?"

He didn't wait for a response, instead turning and hurrying toward the front lines. He spotted Silvertongue moving about, overseeing the retreat. He only briefly slowed down to confer with the younger fox. "Get all of your seabeasts out of here," he urged quietly. "Everyone out on the boats. My men and I will cover you, make sure you have time to retreat. You're the captain now, Silvertongue." He clasped the fox briefly on the shoulder before moving on, his mind already awhirl with thoughts of what must be done.

Tultow could feel his blood racing, his heart pounding in his ears, almost obscuring the sound of war cries from the shrews. He saw his sergeant trying to maintain order among the marines, keeping the defensive line up. A glorious last stand, so it seemed. Good lad. Urk beach would be sung about by the marines for generations to come, he was sure. He noticed one beast who wasn't one of his soldiers in the line - that weasel who had gone out with Piper, Vim-something, cradling Piper's crossbow nonetheless, peering down the scope as she surveilled the enemy. 'Gates, she's young. They were all young, Tultow realized. Dying, it seemed, was a young beast's game. Well, not if he could help it this day. Not for these navybeasts, who hadn't signed up to throw their life away for the ambitions of a single minister.

"Seabeast," Tultow called, approaching Vihma and kneeling by her, looking at her sharply. "Listen to me," he said quietly. "That attack is going to bring itself down upon us like a hammer. Even if we had a full complement of marines, with no injuries, we wouldn't be able to survive. My men and I will do what we can to buy time for you and your friends, but we aren't making it off this island. If you stay and fight with us, you won't be making it either. I'm telling you this now because I'm giving you the choice to live. You have friends, beasts back in the Harbor who would miss you. If you stay, they'll honor your sacrifice - but they'd rather have you there with them. So, only choose to stay if that happiness is something you're willing to sacrifice."

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma didn't quite hear him coming, trying to keep a bead on an ululating shrew out in the distance, with a wicked spear and ragged clothes, fringed with blue she imagined might have come from an Imperial Navy jacket. Perhaps not - but it gave her reason as any to fell him first when the time came.

Tultow's words took her by surprise, then, and she looked up from her scope to scan his eyes for the meaning behind them. She'd not had many interactions with the marine lieutenant, though perhaps more than the average seabeast, catching his praise for swimming out for Talinn's and Silvertongue's missing hats and sword. That was more than she'd gotten from most officers, besides maybe the first officer, Gyles.

More than that, he was offering her a choice. Captain Gaffon's words rang out in her mind once more, but this time she took the offer on its face. This was real - a chance off the island, from a beast who shouldn't even be walking, consigned to holding the beachhead to the end.

She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again, still finding the words to say. They came slowly, like she was mulling over the choices she'd been offered, but really her mind was made up already.

"My orders were t'be with yer beasts, sir. Got my cutlass, 'm not badly wounded, 'n I'm a better shot than most... least with a bow, though I feel good abou' this thing."

Vihma gestured to Piper's crossbow with her muzzle, paws still holding it ready, aimed down towards the hordes of shrews slowly approaching.

Visibly swallowing, the weasel continued with an even voice, trying to keep the emotional exhaustion she'd struggled with from creeping in.

"I'd like t'stay, if ye'll have me, sir. For Silvie 'n Piper 'n the rest... 'n for all those who couldn't make it, sir."

She didn't need to tell him how few beasts she thought might miss her. That was a tired retort, she knew, and Tultow didn't need her self-pity. She had a few beasts who cared about her now. More than she thought she'd have. But she'd chosen to come back here. To face whatever made up Talinn's mad game. The marines were sticking it out together, paying the price of that beast's folly. If they had to stay, she wanted to be with them.

"I don't wanna leave 'til ye give the order - til we can all get off this damned island."

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Tultow's eyes flickered over the weasel, for a moment reminded of another young, scrappy weasel with a sharp eye and an archer's precision who he'd taken into his unit. There was some sort of irony to Vihma stepping in just as Piper was taken out, but he was going to choose to see it as a blessing under the circumstances. "Very well, Private," he allowed, briefly clasping her on the shoulder. "Welcome to the Marines." It might be meaningless, given the circumstances; none of them would ever be buried with honors, or likely buried at all. All they could really hope for was that somebeast in the crew would tell their tale when they went back to the Imperium. But, in this moment, her sacrifice deserved to be honored.

Tultow crossed to near the medical tent and swiftly opened a crate that was labeled "COMBUSTIBLE - NO OPEN FLAME". Reaching inside, he drew out a half dozen of those flares that Captain Ryalor had brought for them. Swiftly he went down the line, passing out one to each of his surviving officers - and giving the last one to Vihma. "Soldiers," he addressed his company, drawing their attention to them and away from the massing specter of death. "These flares are our last resort. If fired, they will call for the Hide to unleash a full barrage upon the beach. Given the mist, they'll be firing blind; they're as likely to tear the camp to shreds as to hit any of the shrews. But," he stressed, "as long as the boats are away in the water, the barrage will buy them precious time to escape. If, and only if, you believe that we cannot hold this position, that we are in imminent threat of being overrun, you are independently authorized to fire off this flare." He looked over his soldiers, seeing it sink in for all of them: this was to be their last stand.

"Some of you have only been with us a brief time," Tultow allowed, looking at the younger of the beasts, Private Johnson and Vihma in particular. "Some of you have been here for years. I feel honored to stand with each and every one of you. We are choosing to stand here, not for a minister, nor an oath, nor an empress, but for the beasts behind us. If we falter, then they fall with us - and we will not let them fall. We were not sent here to take lives, men. We were sent here to save them - and we will hold the line until the last boat sails free. For the friends you've made, we'll hold the line. For those we've lost, we'll hold the line. For the family we leave behind, we will hold the line - and for the family that stands with us today," he looked over his company, eyes actually misting over, "we'll hold the line. Ad silvam, marines."

"Ad silvam," the marines chorused, exchanging a few pats on the shoulder or arm with those close to them, Vihma included. She'd chosen to stay with them; that made her a comrade in their eyes. Then, readying themselves, they leveled their crossbows out into the encroaching dark.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail blinked through the blur of tears, catching the smallest laugh in his throat as Finnian spoke.

“Aye, mate,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges but not without warmth. “Everybeast’s gettin’ off this cursed island. Even if we’ve got to drag ’em by their ears. But...how’s duress supposed t’help, though?”

He sat back on his heels, letting Finn finish shaking off the moment. The kit was upright again, some fire back in him and that alone made Swifttail feel steadier.

Then, a voice rang out near to them, sharp and commanding. Swifttail’s ears perked at the sound. He turned toward the commotion and spotted the source just as a familiar shape placed Piper gently down and issued crisp orders to the rest of them.

Tultow!? No. That wasn’t possible. The infirmary tent… the collapsed body… he’d seen it with his own eyes. Tultow hadn’t moved when they’d dug him free. He shouldn’t have been able to walk, let alone run like that. But the face...it was definitely him. Gone again in the blink of an eye, swallowed by the shuffling of beasts readying the retreat.

Swifttail turned his eyes back to Finnian, carefully keeping his expression level. But his thoughts spiraled.

That wasn’t just a lookalike… was it? Was that Tultow? Or…

He swallowed hard.

...am I seeing ghosts now?

 

[Vilde Isdatter]

As first impressions on the Imperium went, Vilde found it all bizarre. These beasts were somewhere between brave and falling apart. No sooner had she set the injured rat down he had got into some sort of disagreement with the lute-fox who had last been in command. She watched, incredulous, as the severely injured Tultow burst out after him and continued sounding the retreat.

Of course, there was still work to be done!

Heading back out of the tent, the wildcat tried to decide her best course of action. Her warrior code itched to stay with this Tultow and the marines, yet she knew it was a suicide mission, a sacrifice for the others to get clear. Perhaps there was something she could do between the two plans. She still had her boat, quicker than getting a ship underway. If she was swift, she could get to it and bring it around, perhaps pick up any stragglers and then catch up with the Hide before it gained much speed.

Vilde sprinted for her karve.​