Jeshal the Ironclaw
Captain of the BlackShip
Staff member
Officer: Captain (Commander)
Fortuna Survivor
- Character Biography
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(The Golden Hide crew have downtime on a tropical island. Starring: Armina Rogue, Zeke "Zheep" Char, Stripesail Darkhedge, Tanya Rainblade-Ryalor, Jeshal the Ironclaw, Tametrat Klanted, Brek Larks, Rijard M. Chaos, Xhavek Mokorai, Glimmer, and Will Wanderpaw)
WA HO’OMAHA
First post Thermidor 29, Yr. 1730
Armina Rogue
The longboat skidded as it hit sand a few yards away from shore, prompting its occupants to jump out and push the craft to shore. Along the beach, their companions did likewise with the other boats. Piled in the boats were tents, mats, towels, and just about anything the crew could need for a few days spent relaxing on a tropical island. The Hide was anchored just off shore with only a minimal crew, allowing the vast majority of the Hidebeasts to abandon their duties and instead enjoy the week-long leave they'd been given.
The island itself had been an excellent choice for a tropical getaway. It was one in a chain of islands, this one dominated by an extinct volcano that made for some excellent mountaineering. It rose above the tropical foliage that surrounded the peak in a thick jungle, the trees ripe with coconuts and luscious fruits that grew nowhere else. The beach where the Hide crew had landed was a paradise; white sands stretched between two reefs, which extended into the ocean to form a cove of clear, light blue water. The plan was to set up camp on the beach and gather their food from the island's bounty, ferrying supplies from the Hide only as necessary.
Armina waited until the majority of the vacationers had secured their boats before beginning her speech. "Alright everyone," she began, "listen up. It's the first day of our vacation, and I don't give a rat's tail – no offense, Ponce," she added in apology, " – as to what you do today. Just so you don't stand around looking clueless, though, I'll give you a few options. If you want, you can stake out your sleeping area on the beach and try to get the good spots while you can. Swim if you want, but don't come crying to me if you drown yourself. If you can't swim, at least take along someone who can.
"If you want to explore, then go get lost as quickly as possible, but make sure to bring someone along so one of you can say what happened to the other's body. Dinner's at seven; we'll have the poor saps on the boat ring out the hours for us until sundown. Make sure to bring back something interesting for Sorrona, because whoever doesn't find something for the pot has to clean up the dinner mess. Now, dismissed!"
With that Armina pulled off her shirt and trousers, revealing a one-piece bathing suit that she had scandalously cut into two separate parts. She let out a shriek of glee as she ran down the beach and into the pristine waters.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Lord Zheep surveyed the alien landscape with a dangerous squint in his eye. Another day, another journey, another moon to conquer. But it was infested.
He would have to do something about this.
Char, the rat, was trying to jam a parasol into the sand. Zheep snatched it from his claws, tore the membrane half off, and raised it above his head.
"I, Lord Zheep, declare—"
Char shook his head.
"I, Lor... Zeke Zhee... Zeke Steep, declare this moon in the name of the Galac—in the name of the... well, what?"
Char shrugged. It wasn't his job to come up with euphemisms for "Galactic Empire". He just wanted to sit in the shade and read the latest Felicia Mitt novel. It had vampire bats in it that sparkled, he'd been told.
Sighing, Zheep thrust the parasol into the sand, planting his flag.
"I hereby name this moon... Sandmoon!" He peered up at the trees and volcano. "Sandtreemountainmoon! There. It is done."
He turned around and waved his arms at the rest of the crew.
"Get off my moon!"
Char settled down in the shade of a coconut tree with his book on his knees and his tail curled around his footpaws. Zheep was Not His Problem Today.
Stripesail Darkhedge
THONK!
Char as usual had the bad luck to choose to sit by the tree which was already occupied by another creature. A small and annoying little weasel. At least the coconut that fell missed him by a few inches.
"Whoopsies misser char-rat, sorrie 'bout that! Cooming down!"
And he quickly climbed down from his perch in the tree and dropped down and sat on the coconut beside Char. He had gone up there to get a good view of the island and had accidentally trod on a coconut, causing it to fall.
Gazing intently at the book Char was reading, Stripe asked, "What's that book about misser Char?"
Tanya Rainblade-Ryalor
"'S official: I 'ave a nutter fer a niece."
Blinking slowly at the grey vixen that went bolting towards the ocean in some ridiculously cut piece of clothing with total disregard for rank, Tanya struggled for a moment to assure herself, between the strange outfit and the childish shrieks, that the creature running past her was, indeed, family.
Having done away with uniform and seafaring apparel in favour of bandanna, short sleeved lemon-hued blouse and soft grey slacks, Tanya padded onto the beach without direction, offering the curious, loud Zheep a glance in passing that clearly stated she would happily break his nose if he wanted to try moving her (for what good it would do the madbeast). Following the exquisite shoreline, the diminutive fox scanned what she could see of the island with an impressed twitch of the whiskers: they had chosen a beautiful location that seemed perfectly serene and welcoming for inhabitants, surprisingly uninhabited yet bursting with accommodating life. Downel could barely offer more.
...Of course, that generally meant something grievous was going to happen before nightfall, but right now she could care less. The crew sounded appeased which was satisfying enough and it was refreshing to snatch a few days' respite from the toil of sailing. If they were lucky, they might just last the whole week on 'Sandmoon'.
The idea of swimming on holiday felt repugnant to the vixen after their work revolved around battling the ocean and so she headed for an outcropping of boulders on the shoreline instead. Scaling and scrabbling over the large rocks with all due lack of elegance, Tanya eventually found a tide-worn boulder with a flat top which afforded a good panoramic outlook and, once situated, slumped onto her back panting lightly. Stretching languidly once her breath was caught as she now absorbed the sun's welcome rays, the vixen sprawled upon the flat, warm rocks and closed her eyes, content for the moment to do absolutely nothing. It was a rare opportunity, after all.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
This made a change. Quite a big change for Jeshal, in fact. This was probably the first official holiday he had taken outside of Bully. Before his time in the Imperium there had been no holidays. There had been weeks and weeks of boredom and ill health in between scavenging and plundering passing ships, but never any true time for a getaway. He had contented himself with the odd night at home every fortnight, peace and quiet away from the insanity that was the Hide. He knew full well he probably wouldn't get any peace in Downel, but as aforementioned – it was a change.
The mostly off-duty captain watched with a grin as Armina went, scantily clad, barrelling into the ocean. He himself was dressed down in long-sleeved shirt, sash and slacks. It was good to see some of his crew losing some of their worries, regardless of how callous he seemed. Oh, and there was 'Steep' raving on as usual. The weasel didn't always do as grand an 'undercover' job as he hoped. Good for his pal, Char, ignoring him for once.
Intending to keep the serenity for as long as possible, Jeshal took up the largest stick he could find and sauntered over to Zheep. "Good day ter ye, Master Zeke. This be yer 'moon', aye? Well then..." Ever so casually, the fox captain traced a thick line in the sand in a large circle around Zheep. "There ye go. That be yer section o' said moon. To me regret, I must be informin' ye that the rest o' this place be apprehended by the Three-twen'y-five Meteor Fleet due ter budget cuts an' star taxes, an' redistributed fer public licence. If ye want ter hop inter the same border as us, by all means, says I, but respect that only that portion there be yours."
He tossed the stick inside the border, to rest at Zheep's feet.
"Oh, an' ye'll be needin' ter sign some sort o' anti-border-crossin' treaty if ye don' want other beasties in yer patch. Enjoy the moon, matey... an' the sun."
With a quick salute, Jeshal walked off before any questions could be asked. In his wanderings, the Ironclaw caught sight of the prone form of the sunbathing admiral. She looked so peaceful there, flat out on a rock, just perfect for sacrifice...
He shook the thought away. Too many witnesses. Soon, very soon. The papers were already signed and he would start it all rolling when they got back home. He glanced again and thought something quite different. With a brief, anxious frown, Jeshal set about collecting leaves with which to make a shelter roof.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep
"What's that book about misser Char?"
"Well," Char said, putting the book down a little. He adopted the tone of voice adults use to explain complicated concepts to children. "It's about shut up and leave me alone."
He raised the book back to his nose, unperturbed by his near-concussion. Zheep had given him concussions before, and they weren't so bad.
It was quite likely that if a ship rolled up along the shoreline that came from an advanced civilization that had invented cannons, and if that ship were to unload a broadside on the beach around Char, the rat wouldn't have been very phased by it.
~ ~ ~
Zheep considered this new turn of events. At first he was furious; those fates-darned bureaucratic galactic senate republicans! Always with the laws!
But then he remembered he was not mild mannered Crewmember: Decoy (Recruit) Zeke Steep, but actually the most awesome, commandeering and above all handsome Lord Zheep, Supreme Master of the Cosmos and All Things Related, Including, But Not Limited To, Black Holes and The Mysterious Atmospheric Blobs of Planet X-41™, and The Galaxy as a Whole.
It was therefore well within his rights to step out of the border, wave his paws and made a "woosh" sound, and declare, "I just turned the universe inside out so all that stuff the captain said only matters inside that little circle! Now all you lot get in that circle and off my moon or else... or else..."
He wanted to say 'Or else I'll zap you with my blaster.' But he didn't have a blaster.
He turned around slowly and looked at the jungle.
There was probably a blaster in there, though. He would tear it from the cold, dead claws of the Nefarious Vine-limbed Swamp Alien, hereby dubbed "Carl" for short.
The weasel made another "woosh" noise, this one different*, and thrusting his arms out in front of him, ran into the jungle with his helmet tilted over his eyes.
* Those who knew Zheep's "woosh" noises could have classified this as a #3 Woosh: Afterburners Activated on a Jetpack in Serious Need of an Oil Change. The previous one was a #12 Woosh: I Just Sucked The Universe Into a Jar 'Cos I Felt Like It.
Stripesail Darkhedge
Stripe didn't really understand the book's subject.
It's about shut up and leave me alone? What kind of stupid subject was that supposed to be? Whatever it was, it didn't seem too interesting to him, and reading over Char's shoulder would be boring, and Stripe and boredom are two words that just don't go too well together. Spite had immediately shown his views about being stuck on an island with Stripe and everyone else as company by disappearing off the ship, again.
Suddenly Stripe got the greatest idea he had ever gotten! (which is what he always thinks when he comes up with any new idea) He was bored, and this was the only thing to do to cure his boredom. "CATCHMEIFYOUCAN SILLY RATFACE!" he shouted, grabbing Char's book and running away with it. "This is turning out to be such a fun vacation!" he thought, as he continued running.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Zheep's tail bottlebrushed. He had never in his entire life seen anything so ferocious, so whimsically nefarious, so uniquely malicious.
He had dropped to all fours, his back arched high, and he hissed as he danced from side to side. Every now and again he would bare his teeth and leap at the thing, only to jump back before his paws even touched the ground again. Such was the swiftness of the weasel!
The clump of bananas just sat there, rotting morosely in the sun. It had fallen off its tree due to the sheer size and weight of the bundle of fruits, and some tiny jungle birds had pecked a few of the lower bananas open, and now flies were buzzing around it.
Zheep's eyes narrowed. His opponent was a wily one indeed. It knew feinting attacks when it saw them. He would have to try another tactic. But what would succeed against so fierce a villain? No matter what he did, the thing just sat there! It ignored him! Him, Emperor of the Galaxy!
The young weasel whirled around and began flinging himself at logs, rocks, and tree trunks, twisting about in mid-air like some deranged trapeze artist who could no longer tell where the rope was. This was the war dance! The weasel's ultimate defiance to social norms; a show of power to lesser weasels; a hypnotic display that entranced potential prey; and all in all, just good fun.
The dance over, Zheep stood perfectly still, whiskers splayed toward the bunch of bananas. It had not moved. His black eyes drilled into it for a good two minutes, neither one so much as breathing, despite Zheep's heart beating a thousand times per minute.
At length, the weasel bolted from the glade. He was no match for the creature.
~ ~ ~
Char sighed. He stared at his empty paws, as if still reading the book he'd been holding.
And he'd just gotten to the part where Felicia had been angsting about Fredward's family not liking her. As if a bat and a ferret could ever fall in love! Not to mention the werefoxes. Oh, that Traycob, and his fluffy, fluffy vulpine chest...
Char sighed and pulled a different book out of a pocket. Today was a day to read about Felicia Mitt. It was not a day to chase after weasels. Of this, he was perfectly adamant.
~ ~ ~
Zheep, running fast, did not see where he was going. He was just able to make out trees, and dodge them in the nick of time. He was not able to make out the little form of Stripesail, however.
The two weasels bowled into each-other at what could possibly be considered the Imperium's highest velocity impact on record.
"Monster!" Zheep shouted, untangling himself from the younger weasel. "Giant yellow monster! Thousands of tentacles! Coming this way! It's gonna eat us!"
Tametrat Klanted
Tam had been watching the whole thing from the water. He had jumped in immediately upon arrival with the otherbeasts and had been enjoying a pleasant swim when he spotted something going on over by the trees. He watched with his usual good-natured smile as Char managed to avoid a coconut, watched as Stripe stole his book, and covered his eyes as Zheep and Stripe collided.
Walking over towards them, he helped them both up to their feet as Zheep shouted some nonsense about a giant yellow monster with thousands of tentacles. A giant yellow monster with tentacles? Guessing what it probably was, he took out his cutlass. With a short "I'll deal with this monster", he walked into the trees and disappeared.
Coming back out a moment later, he walked towards the pair. "I have slayed the monster" he said pleasantly, and flung the bananas, now each of them sliced in half, onto the sand in front of Zheep and Stripe. He had learned from past experiences just to go along with otherbeasts' crazy worlds. It made life a whole lot easier, and it lessened the chance that somebeast would be shouting something about "aliens with rayguns". With Zheep's crazed description of the monster, he figured it to be 1 of 2 things: Stripe covered in some yellow dye with some string or something that looked like tentacles, or some bannanas. His hunch was proved correct when he had walked up and found Zheep's "monster".
Seeing Char's book lying on the ground, obviously dropped in the collision, he walked over and picked it up. Figures Char would be reading some junk like this he thought as he told Stripe he shouldn't steal things, which probably went in one ear and out the other for the young weasel. Not at all keen to be caught holding this stupid book, he quickly walked over to Char and gave it to him, said "you really shouldn't be reading junk like that, it rots your brain", and walked back over towards Stripe and Zheep.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Char took his book back with a scowl. Not even a thank-you. He was just that annoyed.
Brain rotting indeed!
"I'll have you know," the rat mumbled, not caring if his retort was heard or not, "that I know know what the word 'ubiquitous' means thanks to this novel! And 'marmalade'! Let's see your precious high-brow literature teach you that!"
Really, he was just incensed that somebeast dared classify Felicia Mitt as "junk". At least he could read. Unlike some weasels he could name. Zheep.
~ ~ ~
Zheep was trying desperately to hide the fact that he had musked himself.
Sniffing haughtily, he flounced up to the nearest disemboweled banana and kicked at it.
"I could've killed it," he said. "With my mind. I've got telekinesis lasers. I was gonna set it on fire with them, but I thought, 'Why bother? Nobeast is gonna throw me a parade for it. Let them get eaten!' So that's why I didn't." He folded his arms. "No parades, no free alien hunting."
He raised his nose to the sky and closed his eyes in the universal expression of Being Totally Convinced Of One's Own Superiority.
But then he peeked one eye open and stomped the banana flat, just to make sure. The yellow fruit oozed between his toeclaws.
Still trying to keep up a facade of aloof righteousness, he began leaping from banana to banana, squishing the guts out and stomping in them. It was a pain not to chitter aloud at the pleasantness of the feeling. But he had to uphold standards. Emperors of the Galaxy do not giggle about stomping on aliens.
With the exception of the complete xenocide of a particularly annoying race.
Brek Larks/Rijard M. Chaos
"Vacation" had not been a word a duty hound like Brek was accustomed to. And somehow vacation off the Hide might've been less fun for the todd. Especially since his rank of Bosun only stretched when the crew was on the ship or a mission, a reason he disliked the weeks they were left in the Harbor. While the rest of the crew was out partying with their mates or spending times with loved ones Brek was a powerless part-time Fogey wearing badges hated by citizens. But the Bosun promised himself he would try to enjoy his time off.
Unfortunately Rijard was having a harder time to come to such decisions. The weather being “’Otter than da ‘Gates’ hinges” made him dread the idea of smoking his pipe with Khan’s leftover cigar bits, but he had gone too far this time to sober up. The marten had dumped out all his personal rum and grog supplies and personally asked the Mess staff to keep him out of the grog barrels.
The moment their vacation started Rijard ran off the Hide without a shirt and in rolled-up trousers and made a spot for himself to dig a tunnel back to Bully Harbor and return to his precious rum. “I can almos’ taste da rum now!” he cried as he dug with his claws through the sand. Brek had decided to watch the marten trouble himself with work during a vacation while building a sandcastle of his own using the sand Rijard threw out and water he brought from the tides* when he ran over. Using a few old buckets and a spoon he “borrowed” from the Ship’s Mess he began his masterpiece. He sat there in only a pair of shorts he made by cutting up one of his old trousers that had a hole in it and was too short for him now anyways.
He began making an outer wall big enough for him to lay down inside then he built inside and large building going three stories up and ending with a tipped tower. He built battlements on the wall and a small walkway on the inside and made soldiers out of broken sea shells, and bridges going from the wall to the building out of tree bark from the nearby forest. Then he tied a strip of seaweed to a stick and stuck it on the top as a flag. “A great palace if I ever seen one,” Brek commented to himself over his victory.
Just then Rijard climbed out of his hole and sighed “I’ neva’ will git t’ da harbor at tis ra’e, I’ll neva’ see my lovely rum ag’in! We all gonna die ‘ere ‘efore we drink ag’in! With that the marten spread his arms and fell on top of Brek’s castle.
“Oi!” Brek shouted “Get off ye miserable sack of wet sand!”
Rijard glanced at Brek, “Oi yerself, ye don’ know wha’ tis like bein’ withou’ da one ye love. ‘Sides, dis nevah woul’ve stay, tides comin’ t’ claim it anyways,” Rijard pointed as a wave moved up and beat against the castle walls and turned to fill Rijard’s tunnel.
“Oh go kiss a porcupine’s backside,” Brek grumbled as he picked himself up and marched away.
*Brek wouldn’t go deeper than the tides after accidently stepping on a stingray’s back and convinced that there’s a slippery slope out there waiting for somebeast to slip and fall to break the skulls open and die.
Tanya Rainblade-Ryalor
So much for tranquillity. Narrow muzzle still turned skyward to enjoy the breeze and eyes forcibly closed, it took all of the diminutive vixen's frayed nerves not to want to jump back down and knock the heads of the noisome crew together for being so disruptive. Why in 'Gates they wanted to make a fuss like any other day when they could relax was beyond the vixen's comprehension. Perhaps it was the heat. Or Zheep; his oddness tended to rub off upon the beasts around him and spread like an open sore.
The affronted screeches of a little todd Bosun below finally stirred the vixen to make some effort towards investigating. Rolling onto her stomach with a grumble, Tanya pulled herself to the edge and peered down over the outcropping and blinked down at the poor todd and his ruined castle, unable to resist having a snicker at his expense. Briefly, between the unflattering snorts of laughter and clawing at the blanket of seaweed that coated this side of the rocks, Tanya wondered where their raggedy old captain had gotten to and was of half a mind to scope out the beach for his copper-hued self when the sniffy remarks of that insane mustelid came floating on the breeze. Judging by the mess that surrounded his footpaws, the odd fellow had taken to some kind of fight with the vegetation around the island and the admiral couldn't help but wonder if he would have a go at anything if it took him by surprise.
Curiosity got the best of her. Clawing up a pawful of the sodden bladderwrack that clung to the stones, Tanya pulled herself into a crouch and, not caring for distance or targets, tossed the flabby piece of sealife towards the troublesome weasel. That done, she flattened herself upon her back once more with a small smile, comforted by the knowledge that if she was going to have to endure the raucousness of the crew for the rest of the day, she could at least be the newest cause.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
Having managed to put together a shelter that would hopefully last at least one night, barring a vicious storm, Jeshal flexed his fur paw to bring some feeling back into it. He was not a particularly strong beast but had insisted on doing the task by himself, just to see if he could. There was only room in it for a few vermin. If the need arose, he would round the crew up and make a bigger one.
Seeing that most of them were preoccupied with their own activities be it sunbathing, reading, sand-sculpting or flora-boxing, the fox captain slunk off behind the edges of the trees skirting the rock outcrops. He let loose a suffering sigh, despising himself for not being able to relax. Sleep had evaded him entirely the previous night and the impatience for the holiday to be over so that his plan could be carried out was at an excruciating level. The faintest gnaw of fear wriggled in his stomach. He would probably lose everything he had now, even if he succeeded. No more Golden Hide, no more captaincy. Her blood on his paws, the only refuge he would have would be purest MAUL or a reversion to piracy.
Jeshal set his jaw. So be it.
He clambered quietly along the rocks and caught sight of Tanya hurling something slimy in Zheep's direction before resuming her repose. In the last moment that he crept up beside her, her eyes snapped open and there was a suggestion of shocked rigidity before she calmed.
"I saw that, Adm'ral. Ye shouldn't be startin' up fights, says I. We all be rememberin' the puddin' incident."
Zeke “Zheep” Steep
Tanya was horribly wrong in her surmise. Zheep wouldn't just have a go at anything if it surprised him; he had a go at many things that, in fact, minded their own business for centuries before he'd come along and questioned the species of its immediate ancestry and asked it if it was, indeed, looking at him.
Bunch of little punks. Cedar stumps were the worst.
And yet it was with grim jaw and sturdy pose that he regarded the maligned beastie now hanging from his helmet — the green tentacle dangled in front of his nose like a carrot in front of a donkey.
"See now," he said, "this is a problem." He turned to Stripe and Tametrat. "And this is how I deal with problems."
Executing a rather impressive forward flip, Zheep tugged the seaweed off his helmet and landed on his back, strangling the thing in the air above him. It wrapped itself around his wrist; he squeaked and rolled about in the sand, footpaws kicking the stuff up into the air in dusty little clumps. He bit and tore, then flung the seaweed in the air, bolted away, and seemed to do a U-turn on nothing more than a single toe-claw. He pounced, snagging it before it had fully flopped to the ground again, and rolled into the surf with it.
The fight was brutal, but brief. Having returned the creature to its startide habitat, Zheep righted himself and saluted his enemy on its journey back home.
"Brave the depths, my foe. Brave them well, for we shall meet again, you and I. We were destined for this battle of wits and will. Lick your wounds and spread the word: Lord Zheep has bested you this day! But hold yourself proudly, for I have given you a gift few receive, that of mercy. Of reprieve. This is not the end! You are truly... my nemesis. And wherever you go in the universe, you will hear my voice mocking you: Zheep rules!"
The weasel swished his cape, cracking the air. He shook muddied sand off his footpaws as he climbed back up out of the reach of the tide, all puffed chest and confident grin.
"Boy, I sure sent 'im packing! Saved all your lives, I did. Could've sapped your brains out your noses if you're not careful!"
Xhavek Mokorai/Glimmer/Will Wanderpaw
Xhavek for his part was ignoring all and sundry, for that matter they could all rot in the deepest pits of Hellgates at the moment because this weather was so much like his home island's that he had decided to wear his own native raiment and attempt to teach Glimmer about the proud history of his people. Sans the evil, sadistic, cannibal parts of course.
Sitting before his adoptive daughter, Xhavek sat cross-legged with his footclaws upon his thighs. He wore crimson short breeches, with black cloth bracers upon his arms. He was bare to the waist revealing a rather impressive display of: a) his quite large collection of scars and b) the fact that he was most likely the most well-toned beast currently on the Hide. Serving as a belt was a scarlet and ebon sash, with an alternating triangle design going down it on one side. At his side was a shortened harpoon and a strangely shaped, heavy shortsword he called a volkuh which he said loosely translated to 'chopper'. It closely resembled a machete but the point was on the bladed side and it was perfectly straight.
"...zo zat iz ze ztory of ze Krokgrata or 'Fire-mountain'. ... Glimmer?"
Xhavek's eyes narrowed viciously as he glared at his newtess daughter who had taken this chance to daydream and largely ignore her father by toying with a small crab that had wandered up to her. The black frilled newtess wore a simple but frilly and girlish one purple onepiece swimsuit. Her barefeet kicked in the air slowly as she lay on her belly toying with her new little friend. "I will call you Frederick the Bold."
"GLIMMER!"
The newtess's head jerked up at her patriarch's shout and she quickly winced and bobbed her head apologetically, "Sorry Papa but this is well.... boring."
The short monitor sighed heavily and waved her off. "Alright fine go play vith Armina juzt try to be vary of any large fish, zey bite."
Glimmer squealed in glee and darted forward to hug her papa tightly and planted a big girlish kiss on his cheek, "Thankies Papa!"
Xhavek waved the exuberant Glimmer off, being rather well filled out for her age his daughter never failed to make him feel supremely awkward when she embraced him in any fashion. Had he been capable he would have been blushing furiously, luckily he lacked the ability for some reason and merely looked away. "Juzt go already. Give Armina a zplash in ze faze for me aye?"
Giggling mischievously she nodded and darted away to chase after the grey furred vixen, splashing about merrily making a general hullabaloo in her wake.
Wisp spoke quietly from his position on a rock nearby.
"Are you sure setting her loose on Armina is such a good idea brother?"
The slim grey-blue furred rodent wore brown swimming trunks and a broadbrimmed flat hat, rather like a preacher's except its tan coloration. His ever-present spectacles had slid down his slight nose and he pushed ith back up his snout again with his fingertip.
"Of courze itz a good idea. And Knowing Glimmer she'll likely forget who told her to do it az zoon az she zpotz zomething interezting." Xhavek grinned almost evilly and his mismatched eyes sparkled mischievously.
Wisp sighed heavily and returned to his large tome, A Study of Sea Caves, Volcanoes, and Other Naturale Stone Structure of Isle Type Locales, shaking his head slowly at his blood brother's idea of fun.
WA HO’OMAHA
First post Thermidor 29, Yr. 1730
Armina Rogue
The longboat skidded as it hit sand a few yards away from shore, prompting its occupants to jump out and push the craft to shore. Along the beach, their companions did likewise with the other boats. Piled in the boats were tents, mats, towels, and just about anything the crew could need for a few days spent relaxing on a tropical island. The Hide was anchored just off shore with only a minimal crew, allowing the vast majority of the Hidebeasts to abandon their duties and instead enjoy the week-long leave they'd been given.
The island itself had been an excellent choice for a tropical getaway. It was one in a chain of islands, this one dominated by an extinct volcano that made for some excellent mountaineering. It rose above the tropical foliage that surrounded the peak in a thick jungle, the trees ripe with coconuts and luscious fruits that grew nowhere else. The beach where the Hide crew had landed was a paradise; white sands stretched between two reefs, which extended into the ocean to form a cove of clear, light blue water. The plan was to set up camp on the beach and gather their food from the island's bounty, ferrying supplies from the Hide only as necessary.
Armina waited until the majority of the vacationers had secured their boats before beginning her speech. "Alright everyone," she began, "listen up. It's the first day of our vacation, and I don't give a rat's tail – no offense, Ponce," she added in apology, " – as to what you do today. Just so you don't stand around looking clueless, though, I'll give you a few options. If you want, you can stake out your sleeping area on the beach and try to get the good spots while you can. Swim if you want, but don't come crying to me if you drown yourself. If you can't swim, at least take along someone who can.
"If you want to explore, then go get lost as quickly as possible, but make sure to bring someone along so one of you can say what happened to the other's body. Dinner's at seven; we'll have the poor saps on the boat ring out the hours for us until sundown. Make sure to bring back something interesting for Sorrona, because whoever doesn't find something for the pot has to clean up the dinner mess. Now, dismissed!"
With that Armina pulled off her shirt and trousers, revealing a one-piece bathing suit that she had scandalously cut into two separate parts. She let out a shriek of glee as she ran down the beach and into the pristine waters.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Lord Zheep surveyed the alien landscape with a dangerous squint in his eye. Another day, another journey, another moon to conquer. But it was infested.
He would have to do something about this.
Char, the rat, was trying to jam a parasol into the sand. Zheep snatched it from his claws, tore the membrane half off, and raised it above his head.
"I, Lord Zheep, declare—"
Char shook his head.
"I, Lor... Zeke Zhee... Zeke Steep, declare this moon in the name of the Galac—in the name of the... well, what?"
Char shrugged. It wasn't his job to come up with euphemisms for "Galactic Empire". He just wanted to sit in the shade and read the latest Felicia Mitt novel. It had vampire bats in it that sparkled, he'd been told.
Sighing, Zheep thrust the parasol into the sand, planting his flag.
"I hereby name this moon... Sandmoon!" He peered up at the trees and volcano. "Sandtreemountainmoon! There. It is done."
He turned around and waved his arms at the rest of the crew.
"Get off my moon!"
Char settled down in the shade of a coconut tree with his book on his knees and his tail curled around his footpaws. Zheep was Not His Problem Today.
Stripesail Darkhedge
THONK!
Char as usual had the bad luck to choose to sit by the tree which was already occupied by another creature. A small and annoying little weasel. At least the coconut that fell missed him by a few inches.
"Whoopsies misser char-rat, sorrie 'bout that! Cooming down!"
And he quickly climbed down from his perch in the tree and dropped down and sat on the coconut beside Char. He had gone up there to get a good view of the island and had accidentally trod on a coconut, causing it to fall.
Gazing intently at the book Char was reading, Stripe asked, "What's that book about misser Char?"
Tanya Rainblade-Ryalor
"'S official: I 'ave a nutter fer a niece."
Blinking slowly at the grey vixen that went bolting towards the ocean in some ridiculously cut piece of clothing with total disregard for rank, Tanya struggled for a moment to assure herself, between the strange outfit and the childish shrieks, that the creature running past her was, indeed, family.
Having done away with uniform and seafaring apparel in favour of bandanna, short sleeved lemon-hued blouse and soft grey slacks, Tanya padded onto the beach without direction, offering the curious, loud Zheep a glance in passing that clearly stated she would happily break his nose if he wanted to try moving her (for what good it would do the madbeast). Following the exquisite shoreline, the diminutive fox scanned what she could see of the island with an impressed twitch of the whiskers: they had chosen a beautiful location that seemed perfectly serene and welcoming for inhabitants, surprisingly uninhabited yet bursting with accommodating life. Downel could barely offer more.
...Of course, that generally meant something grievous was going to happen before nightfall, but right now she could care less. The crew sounded appeased which was satisfying enough and it was refreshing to snatch a few days' respite from the toil of sailing. If they were lucky, they might just last the whole week on 'Sandmoon'.
The idea of swimming on holiday felt repugnant to the vixen after their work revolved around battling the ocean and so she headed for an outcropping of boulders on the shoreline instead. Scaling and scrabbling over the large rocks with all due lack of elegance, Tanya eventually found a tide-worn boulder with a flat top which afforded a good panoramic outlook and, once situated, slumped onto her back panting lightly. Stretching languidly once her breath was caught as she now absorbed the sun's welcome rays, the vixen sprawled upon the flat, warm rocks and closed her eyes, content for the moment to do absolutely nothing. It was a rare opportunity, after all.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
This made a change. Quite a big change for Jeshal, in fact. This was probably the first official holiday he had taken outside of Bully. Before his time in the Imperium there had been no holidays. There had been weeks and weeks of boredom and ill health in between scavenging and plundering passing ships, but never any true time for a getaway. He had contented himself with the odd night at home every fortnight, peace and quiet away from the insanity that was the Hide. He knew full well he probably wouldn't get any peace in Downel, but as aforementioned – it was a change.
The mostly off-duty captain watched with a grin as Armina went, scantily clad, barrelling into the ocean. He himself was dressed down in long-sleeved shirt, sash and slacks. It was good to see some of his crew losing some of their worries, regardless of how callous he seemed. Oh, and there was 'Steep' raving on as usual. The weasel didn't always do as grand an 'undercover' job as he hoped. Good for his pal, Char, ignoring him for once.
Intending to keep the serenity for as long as possible, Jeshal took up the largest stick he could find and sauntered over to Zheep. "Good day ter ye, Master Zeke. This be yer 'moon', aye? Well then..." Ever so casually, the fox captain traced a thick line in the sand in a large circle around Zheep. "There ye go. That be yer section o' said moon. To me regret, I must be informin' ye that the rest o' this place be apprehended by the Three-twen'y-five Meteor Fleet due ter budget cuts an' star taxes, an' redistributed fer public licence. If ye want ter hop inter the same border as us, by all means, says I, but respect that only that portion there be yours."
He tossed the stick inside the border, to rest at Zheep's feet.
"Oh, an' ye'll be needin' ter sign some sort o' anti-border-crossin' treaty if ye don' want other beasties in yer patch. Enjoy the moon, matey... an' the sun."
With a quick salute, Jeshal walked off before any questions could be asked. In his wanderings, the Ironclaw caught sight of the prone form of the sunbathing admiral. She looked so peaceful there, flat out on a rock, just perfect for sacrifice...
He shook the thought away. Too many witnesses. Soon, very soon. The papers were already signed and he would start it all rolling when they got back home. He glanced again and thought something quite different. With a brief, anxious frown, Jeshal set about collecting leaves with which to make a shelter roof.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep
"What's that book about misser Char?"
"Well," Char said, putting the book down a little. He adopted the tone of voice adults use to explain complicated concepts to children. "It's about shut up and leave me alone."
He raised the book back to his nose, unperturbed by his near-concussion. Zheep had given him concussions before, and they weren't so bad.
It was quite likely that if a ship rolled up along the shoreline that came from an advanced civilization that had invented cannons, and if that ship were to unload a broadside on the beach around Char, the rat wouldn't have been very phased by it.
~ ~ ~
Zheep considered this new turn of events. At first he was furious; those fates-darned bureaucratic galactic senate republicans! Always with the laws!
But then he remembered he was not mild mannered Crewmember: Decoy (Recruit) Zeke Steep, but actually the most awesome, commandeering and above all handsome Lord Zheep, Supreme Master of the Cosmos and All Things Related, Including, But Not Limited To, Black Holes and The Mysterious Atmospheric Blobs of Planet X-41™, and The Galaxy as a Whole.
It was therefore well within his rights to step out of the border, wave his paws and made a "woosh" sound, and declare, "I just turned the universe inside out so all that stuff the captain said only matters inside that little circle! Now all you lot get in that circle and off my moon or else... or else..."
He wanted to say 'Or else I'll zap you with my blaster.' But he didn't have a blaster.
He turned around slowly and looked at the jungle.
There was probably a blaster in there, though. He would tear it from the cold, dead claws of the Nefarious Vine-limbed Swamp Alien, hereby dubbed "Carl" for short.
The weasel made another "woosh" noise, this one different*, and thrusting his arms out in front of him, ran into the jungle with his helmet tilted over his eyes.
* Those who knew Zheep's "woosh" noises could have classified this as a #3 Woosh: Afterburners Activated on a Jetpack in Serious Need of an Oil Change. The previous one was a #12 Woosh: I Just Sucked The Universe Into a Jar 'Cos I Felt Like It.
Stripesail Darkhedge
Stripe didn't really understand the book's subject.
It's about shut up and leave me alone? What kind of stupid subject was that supposed to be? Whatever it was, it didn't seem too interesting to him, and reading over Char's shoulder would be boring, and Stripe and boredom are two words that just don't go too well together. Spite had immediately shown his views about being stuck on an island with Stripe and everyone else as company by disappearing off the ship, again.
Suddenly Stripe got the greatest idea he had ever gotten! (which is what he always thinks when he comes up with any new idea) He was bored, and this was the only thing to do to cure his boredom. "CATCHMEIFYOUCAN SILLY RATFACE!" he shouted, grabbing Char's book and running away with it. "This is turning out to be such a fun vacation!" he thought, as he continued running.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Zheep's tail bottlebrushed. He had never in his entire life seen anything so ferocious, so whimsically nefarious, so uniquely malicious.
He had dropped to all fours, his back arched high, and he hissed as he danced from side to side. Every now and again he would bare his teeth and leap at the thing, only to jump back before his paws even touched the ground again. Such was the swiftness of the weasel!
The clump of bananas just sat there, rotting morosely in the sun. It had fallen off its tree due to the sheer size and weight of the bundle of fruits, and some tiny jungle birds had pecked a few of the lower bananas open, and now flies were buzzing around it.
Zheep's eyes narrowed. His opponent was a wily one indeed. It knew feinting attacks when it saw them. He would have to try another tactic. But what would succeed against so fierce a villain? No matter what he did, the thing just sat there! It ignored him! Him, Emperor of the Galaxy!
The young weasel whirled around and began flinging himself at logs, rocks, and tree trunks, twisting about in mid-air like some deranged trapeze artist who could no longer tell where the rope was. This was the war dance! The weasel's ultimate defiance to social norms; a show of power to lesser weasels; a hypnotic display that entranced potential prey; and all in all, just good fun.
The dance over, Zheep stood perfectly still, whiskers splayed toward the bunch of bananas. It had not moved. His black eyes drilled into it for a good two minutes, neither one so much as breathing, despite Zheep's heart beating a thousand times per minute.
At length, the weasel bolted from the glade. He was no match for the creature.
~ ~ ~
Char sighed. He stared at his empty paws, as if still reading the book he'd been holding.
And he'd just gotten to the part where Felicia had been angsting about Fredward's family not liking her. As if a bat and a ferret could ever fall in love! Not to mention the werefoxes. Oh, that Traycob, and his fluffy, fluffy vulpine chest...
Char sighed and pulled a different book out of a pocket. Today was a day to read about Felicia Mitt. It was not a day to chase after weasels. Of this, he was perfectly adamant.
~ ~ ~
Zheep, running fast, did not see where he was going. He was just able to make out trees, and dodge them in the nick of time. He was not able to make out the little form of Stripesail, however.
The two weasels bowled into each-other at what could possibly be considered the Imperium's highest velocity impact on record.
"Monster!" Zheep shouted, untangling himself from the younger weasel. "Giant yellow monster! Thousands of tentacles! Coming this way! It's gonna eat us!"
Tametrat Klanted
Tam had been watching the whole thing from the water. He had jumped in immediately upon arrival with the otherbeasts and had been enjoying a pleasant swim when he spotted something going on over by the trees. He watched with his usual good-natured smile as Char managed to avoid a coconut, watched as Stripe stole his book, and covered his eyes as Zheep and Stripe collided.
Walking over towards them, he helped them both up to their feet as Zheep shouted some nonsense about a giant yellow monster with thousands of tentacles. A giant yellow monster with tentacles? Guessing what it probably was, he took out his cutlass. With a short "I'll deal with this monster", he walked into the trees and disappeared.
Coming back out a moment later, he walked towards the pair. "I have slayed the monster" he said pleasantly, and flung the bananas, now each of them sliced in half, onto the sand in front of Zheep and Stripe. He had learned from past experiences just to go along with otherbeasts' crazy worlds. It made life a whole lot easier, and it lessened the chance that somebeast would be shouting something about "aliens with rayguns". With Zheep's crazed description of the monster, he figured it to be 1 of 2 things: Stripe covered in some yellow dye with some string or something that looked like tentacles, or some bannanas. His hunch was proved correct when he had walked up and found Zheep's "monster".
Seeing Char's book lying on the ground, obviously dropped in the collision, he walked over and picked it up. Figures Char would be reading some junk like this he thought as he told Stripe he shouldn't steal things, which probably went in one ear and out the other for the young weasel. Not at all keen to be caught holding this stupid book, he quickly walked over to Char and gave it to him, said "you really shouldn't be reading junk like that, it rots your brain", and walked back over towards Stripe and Zheep.
Zeke “Zheep” Steep/Char
Char took his book back with a scowl. Not even a thank-you. He was just that annoyed.
Brain rotting indeed!
"I'll have you know," the rat mumbled, not caring if his retort was heard or not, "that I know know what the word 'ubiquitous' means thanks to this novel! And 'marmalade'! Let's see your precious high-brow literature teach you that!"
Really, he was just incensed that somebeast dared classify Felicia Mitt as "junk". At least he could read. Unlike some weasels he could name. Zheep.
~ ~ ~
Zheep was trying desperately to hide the fact that he had musked himself.
Sniffing haughtily, he flounced up to the nearest disemboweled banana and kicked at it.
"I could've killed it," he said. "With my mind. I've got telekinesis lasers. I was gonna set it on fire with them, but I thought, 'Why bother? Nobeast is gonna throw me a parade for it. Let them get eaten!' So that's why I didn't." He folded his arms. "No parades, no free alien hunting."
He raised his nose to the sky and closed his eyes in the universal expression of Being Totally Convinced Of One's Own Superiority.
But then he peeked one eye open and stomped the banana flat, just to make sure. The yellow fruit oozed between his toeclaws.
Still trying to keep up a facade of aloof righteousness, he began leaping from banana to banana, squishing the guts out and stomping in them. It was a pain not to chitter aloud at the pleasantness of the feeling. But he had to uphold standards. Emperors of the Galaxy do not giggle about stomping on aliens.
With the exception of the complete xenocide of a particularly annoying race.
Brek Larks/Rijard M. Chaos
"Vacation" had not been a word a duty hound like Brek was accustomed to. And somehow vacation off the Hide might've been less fun for the todd. Especially since his rank of Bosun only stretched when the crew was on the ship or a mission, a reason he disliked the weeks they were left in the Harbor. While the rest of the crew was out partying with their mates or spending times with loved ones Brek was a powerless part-time Fogey wearing badges hated by citizens. But the Bosun promised himself he would try to enjoy his time off.
Unfortunately Rijard was having a harder time to come to such decisions. The weather being “’Otter than da ‘Gates’ hinges” made him dread the idea of smoking his pipe with Khan’s leftover cigar bits, but he had gone too far this time to sober up. The marten had dumped out all his personal rum and grog supplies and personally asked the Mess staff to keep him out of the grog barrels.
The moment their vacation started Rijard ran off the Hide without a shirt and in rolled-up trousers and made a spot for himself to dig a tunnel back to Bully Harbor and return to his precious rum. “I can almos’ taste da rum now!” he cried as he dug with his claws through the sand. Brek had decided to watch the marten trouble himself with work during a vacation while building a sandcastle of his own using the sand Rijard threw out and water he brought from the tides* when he ran over. Using a few old buckets and a spoon he “borrowed” from the Ship’s Mess he began his masterpiece. He sat there in only a pair of shorts he made by cutting up one of his old trousers that had a hole in it and was too short for him now anyways.
He began making an outer wall big enough for him to lay down inside then he built inside and large building going three stories up and ending with a tipped tower. He built battlements on the wall and a small walkway on the inside and made soldiers out of broken sea shells, and bridges going from the wall to the building out of tree bark from the nearby forest. Then he tied a strip of seaweed to a stick and stuck it on the top as a flag. “A great palace if I ever seen one,” Brek commented to himself over his victory.
Just then Rijard climbed out of his hole and sighed “I’ neva’ will git t’ da harbor at tis ra’e, I’ll neva’ see my lovely rum ag’in! We all gonna die ‘ere ‘efore we drink ag’in! With that the marten spread his arms and fell on top of Brek’s castle.
“Oi!” Brek shouted “Get off ye miserable sack of wet sand!”
Rijard glanced at Brek, “Oi yerself, ye don’ know wha’ tis like bein’ withou’ da one ye love. ‘Sides, dis nevah woul’ve stay, tides comin’ t’ claim it anyways,” Rijard pointed as a wave moved up and beat against the castle walls and turned to fill Rijard’s tunnel.
“Oh go kiss a porcupine’s backside,” Brek grumbled as he picked himself up and marched away.
*Brek wouldn’t go deeper than the tides after accidently stepping on a stingray’s back and convinced that there’s a slippery slope out there waiting for somebeast to slip and fall to break the skulls open and die.
Tanya Rainblade-Ryalor
So much for tranquillity. Narrow muzzle still turned skyward to enjoy the breeze and eyes forcibly closed, it took all of the diminutive vixen's frayed nerves not to want to jump back down and knock the heads of the noisome crew together for being so disruptive. Why in 'Gates they wanted to make a fuss like any other day when they could relax was beyond the vixen's comprehension. Perhaps it was the heat. Or Zheep; his oddness tended to rub off upon the beasts around him and spread like an open sore.
The affronted screeches of a little todd Bosun below finally stirred the vixen to make some effort towards investigating. Rolling onto her stomach with a grumble, Tanya pulled herself to the edge and peered down over the outcropping and blinked down at the poor todd and his ruined castle, unable to resist having a snicker at his expense. Briefly, between the unflattering snorts of laughter and clawing at the blanket of seaweed that coated this side of the rocks, Tanya wondered where their raggedy old captain had gotten to and was of half a mind to scope out the beach for his copper-hued self when the sniffy remarks of that insane mustelid came floating on the breeze. Judging by the mess that surrounded his footpaws, the odd fellow had taken to some kind of fight with the vegetation around the island and the admiral couldn't help but wonder if he would have a go at anything if it took him by surprise.
Curiosity got the best of her. Clawing up a pawful of the sodden bladderwrack that clung to the stones, Tanya pulled herself into a crouch and, not caring for distance or targets, tossed the flabby piece of sealife towards the troublesome weasel. That done, she flattened herself upon her back once more with a small smile, comforted by the knowledge that if she was going to have to endure the raucousness of the crew for the rest of the day, she could at least be the newest cause.
Jeshal the Ironclaw
Having managed to put together a shelter that would hopefully last at least one night, barring a vicious storm, Jeshal flexed his fur paw to bring some feeling back into it. He was not a particularly strong beast but had insisted on doing the task by himself, just to see if he could. There was only room in it for a few vermin. If the need arose, he would round the crew up and make a bigger one.
Seeing that most of them were preoccupied with their own activities be it sunbathing, reading, sand-sculpting or flora-boxing, the fox captain slunk off behind the edges of the trees skirting the rock outcrops. He let loose a suffering sigh, despising himself for not being able to relax. Sleep had evaded him entirely the previous night and the impatience for the holiday to be over so that his plan could be carried out was at an excruciating level. The faintest gnaw of fear wriggled in his stomach. He would probably lose everything he had now, even if he succeeded. No more Golden Hide, no more captaincy. Her blood on his paws, the only refuge he would have would be purest MAUL or a reversion to piracy.
Jeshal set his jaw. So be it.
He clambered quietly along the rocks and caught sight of Tanya hurling something slimy in Zheep's direction before resuming her repose. In the last moment that he crept up beside her, her eyes snapped open and there was a suggestion of shocked rigidity before she calmed.
"I saw that, Adm'ral. Ye shouldn't be startin' up fights, says I. We all be rememberin' the puddin' incident."
Zeke “Zheep” Steep
Tanya was horribly wrong in her surmise. Zheep wouldn't just have a go at anything if it surprised him; he had a go at many things that, in fact, minded their own business for centuries before he'd come along and questioned the species of its immediate ancestry and asked it if it was, indeed, looking at him.
Bunch of little punks. Cedar stumps were the worst.
And yet it was with grim jaw and sturdy pose that he regarded the maligned beastie now hanging from his helmet — the green tentacle dangled in front of his nose like a carrot in front of a donkey.
"See now," he said, "this is a problem." He turned to Stripe and Tametrat. "And this is how I deal with problems."
Executing a rather impressive forward flip, Zheep tugged the seaweed off his helmet and landed on his back, strangling the thing in the air above him. It wrapped itself around his wrist; he squeaked and rolled about in the sand, footpaws kicking the stuff up into the air in dusty little clumps. He bit and tore, then flung the seaweed in the air, bolted away, and seemed to do a U-turn on nothing more than a single toe-claw. He pounced, snagging it before it had fully flopped to the ground again, and rolled into the surf with it.
The fight was brutal, but brief. Having returned the creature to its startide habitat, Zheep righted himself and saluted his enemy on its journey back home.
"Brave the depths, my foe. Brave them well, for we shall meet again, you and I. We were destined for this battle of wits and will. Lick your wounds and spread the word: Lord Zheep has bested you this day! But hold yourself proudly, for I have given you a gift few receive, that of mercy. Of reprieve. This is not the end! You are truly... my nemesis. And wherever you go in the universe, you will hear my voice mocking you: Zheep rules!"
The weasel swished his cape, cracking the air. He shook muddied sand off his footpaws as he climbed back up out of the reach of the tide, all puffed chest and confident grin.
"Boy, I sure sent 'im packing! Saved all your lives, I did. Could've sapped your brains out your noses if you're not careful!"
Xhavek Mokorai/Glimmer/Will Wanderpaw
Xhavek for his part was ignoring all and sundry, for that matter they could all rot in the deepest pits of Hellgates at the moment because this weather was so much like his home island's that he had decided to wear his own native raiment and attempt to teach Glimmer about the proud history of his people. Sans the evil, sadistic, cannibal parts of course.
Sitting before his adoptive daughter, Xhavek sat cross-legged with his footclaws upon his thighs. He wore crimson short breeches, with black cloth bracers upon his arms. He was bare to the waist revealing a rather impressive display of: a) his quite large collection of scars and b) the fact that he was most likely the most well-toned beast currently on the Hide. Serving as a belt was a scarlet and ebon sash, with an alternating triangle design going down it on one side. At his side was a shortened harpoon and a strangely shaped, heavy shortsword he called a volkuh which he said loosely translated to 'chopper'. It closely resembled a machete but the point was on the bladed side and it was perfectly straight.
"...zo zat iz ze ztory of ze Krokgrata or 'Fire-mountain'. ... Glimmer?"
Xhavek's eyes narrowed viciously as he glared at his newtess daughter who had taken this chance to daydream and largely ignore her father by toying with a small crab that had wandered up to her. The black frilled newtess wore a simple but frilly and girlish one purple onepiece swimsuit. Her barefeet kicked in the air slowly as she lay on her belly toying with her new little friend. "I will call you Frederick the Bold."
"GLIMMER!"
The newtess's head jerked up at her patriarch's shout and she quickly winced and bobbed her head apologetically, "Sorry Papa but this is well.... boring."
The short monitor sighed heavily and waved her off. "Alright fine go play vith Armina juzt try to be vary of any large fish, zey bite."
Glimmer squealed in glee and darted forward to hug her papa tightly and planted a big girlish kiss on his cheek, "Thankies Papa!"
Xhavek waved the exuberant Glimmer off, being rather well filled out for her age his daughter never failed to make him feel supremely awkward when she embraced him in any fashion. Had he been capable he would have been blushing furiously, luckily he lacked the ability for some reason and merely looked away. "Juzt go already. Give Armina a zplash in ze faze for me aye?"
Giggling mischievously she nodded and darted away to chase after the grey furred vixen, splashing about merrily making a general hullabaloo in her wake.
Wisp spoke quietly from his position on a rock nearby.
"Are you sure setting her loose on Armina is such a good idea brother?"
The slim grey-blue furred rodent wore brown swimming trunks and a broadbrimmed flat hat, rather like a preacher's except its tan coloration. His ever-present spectacles had slid down his slight nose and he pushed ith back up his snout again with his fingertip.
"Of courze itz a good idea. And Knowing Glimmer she'll likely forget who told her to do it az zoon az she zpotz zomething interezting." Xhavek grinned almost evilly and his mismatched eyes sparkled mischievously.
Wisp sighed heavily and returned to his large tome, A Study of Sea Caves, Volcanoes, and Other Naturale Stone Structure of Isle Type Locales, shaking his head slowly at his blood brother's idea of fun.
