Expedition Open Voyage to Croper’s Cove: Troubled Waters

[Lorcan Rainclaw]

As far as Lorcan was concerned one of the worst effects of sheeting rain wasn’t the cold but loss of grip. It wasn’t simply the deck, either: risky as it could be with slippery timber underpaw on a bucking, heaving vessel, the extra time it could take to wrangle saturated material or hold steady often frustrated his patience. At the very least greased lines offered some purchase and the resultant grease and tar on his paws go some small way towards his struggle. He leant his strength to securing another line whilst he stood beside Amnesty, ears perked at the Captain’s call as it rolled across deck between the boom of the furious swell.

With work to be done it wasn’t worth the time spent gawking at the officers as they hastened to post, though Lorcan took note of his cousin’s son scampering along to comply. Something fluttered in the pit of his stomach to think of the risks. It was an impulse he knew he had to dismiss: for his younger age, Finnian was of higher rating and he couldn’t risk insulting the fox or damaging his reputation by being overly protective.

Still, he’d keep an eye out as much for him as he would his sister, who was so ably aiding in the reefing of the mainsail. To her he shot a brief, adrenaline-fuelled grin. A quick squint aloft thereafter confirmed that he could not profess to feeling any jealousy for those soon to be swaying down the topmasts once sufficient canvas was down. Canvas, he momentarily wondered, if he would be repairing by the end of the night. Unsuited though he felt to the job Lorcan knew that there was still every potential he may be called to it as an able seabeast, and he would not hide amongst the waisters out of pride. Still, he would concern himself about it when the call came. In the meantime he wiped water from his eyes, dashed it, and recalled that the vixen closest to him was indeed one of the medical persuasion. To her he offered a hasty salute this time. “Anythin’ I can help you with whilst we’re making preparations, marm?”

 

[Kaii Nashirou]

This time on the Hide was different for Kaii than his first voyage. He took to his new position with seriousness that befitted the marble fox, meaning he fully gave in to the perfectionist tendencies of his. As a technical ensign, he had no longer do physical work, but he still did work alongside all the carpenters, Swifttail and armament specialists whenever he could. Which occupied most of his free time, on top of otherwise spending his time doing the work that was now his duty and managing all of the operations. He also had to fulfill his own goal of fully standardizing and making blueprints for ship parts... it was making Kaii work more than was needed during the easy part of the journey so far.

Today he was just finished completing his planned work for today, figuring out every single piece that made the rudder work and recalculating/redrawing them to optimize them later at the dockyards, or at least pitching the ideas to the Ministry of Innovation, as per the document he had signed. In the little room he had made his own archive of projects and experimental devices (which also was a tool storage), he could finally put his drawings into the secure metal tube he utilized for water-proof storage. Stretching out his muscles, he had left exactly at the moment the command sounded across the piping.

Getting back from the depths of his working state, he realised that the ship under him wasn't stable, something his body and tail managed well, but was a fair warning to what was about to come. Not waiting for long, Kaii rushed through the series of ladders to get onto the top deck. Once there, he noticed the present duo of Swift and Silvertongue, both looking wrecked. Kaii himself was all soaked, but stalwart in the face of elements. His unfazed, stoic expression taking on the weather conditions akin to a rock. He gave them a long look with a short nod whilst walking to his place at the quarterdeck.

Kaii saluted to the captain first and foremost. Speaking in his flat, deep baritone. "Technical ensign Kaii present. Your orders captain?" He asked, standing at attention, being a beacon of tranquility and perserverence in the rapidly worsening conditions around him

 

[Elliot Berkshaw]

It had been a while since he stood on two legs. Elliot looked on as Doctor Barrett spoke to someone named “Mr. Harper“, a friendly looking stoat.

Mr. Harper introduced himself as a poet. A good hobby.

Elliot took a moment to steady himself against the rolling deck, now noticing how bad the storm was from how the ship was moving about. The mouse then held out a paw towards the stoat. “Hello, Mister Harper, my name’s Elliot Berkshaw. I’m not sure what I can manage in my condition, but we should be able to find something…”