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Post by Ladorak on Aug 8, 2010 11:53:06 GMT -5
The wolverine scowled as the ferret seemed unresponsive. "I'll take that as a no." he mumbled, quaffing the drink down himself. "Right well...I think we've waited long enough. I'm gonna make you nice an' tender...like a tasty steak we can boil for dinner. So...let's 'op to it!" he exclaimed, backing away and pawing the cup to one of the Quartermasters.
Backing up behind the ferret, the beefy Boatswain's Mate curled the cat around his paw tenderly, as if he were holding a babe rather than a whip. But then he lashed out, striking Spender's buttocks with raw force and crying out as he did so. "Thirteen!" the Master-at-Arms hedgehog called. Fwap! "Fourteen!" Fwap! "Fifteen!" Fwap! "Sixteen!" Fwap! "Seventeen!" Fwap! "Eighteen!" If the rat had been holding back, the wolverine sure wasn't. Every one of his blows was direct and powerful, almost sadistic in a way as the tails danced from his paw down to Spender's bottom.
Fwap! "Nineteen!" Fwap! "Twenty!" Fwap! "Twenty-one!" Fwap! "Twenty-two!" Fwap! "Twenty-three!"
"And 'ere's the last one!" Flexing his great muscles, the wolverine Mate flung the tails down at Spender's rump, impacting with a final, solid slap. "Twenty-four!" the hedgehog chimed out, and that was the end of it.
"Untie him" Ladorak ordered, and the Quartermasters moved forward to obey. "Spender Cielciosk...may this be a lesson to you not to violate the Articles of War again. Keep them in mind next time you think about acting out. Oh yes...before I forget" the stoat Captain said firmly. "In addition to the revocation of your alcohol ration and your latrine duties, the Gunner's recommendation shall be followed. You are henceforth stripped from the gun crew and shall be working the main top in battle until I deem otherwise."
Not that hard Ocean thought. Most of the Articles of War didn't even apply to the Seajacks but to the officers. Spender was untied from the gratings, his rump erupting with some blues, purples and blacks as bruises blossomed like supernovas. He would have those for at least a week. They formed criss-crosses, and the term "marked jack" came from this type of situation, though more from the nasty bleeding sores one would get after getting whipped on his back with a cat of nine tails.
As it was, Spender had been spared a knotted cat, and thus wasn't bleeding, though he was quite bruised. "Pipe the crew to dinner Mr. Quilliam. Oh and...do tell one of the Midshipjacks to remind the Purser that Spender Cielciosk has had his alcohol ration revoked for a month." Ladorak stated, and turned away from the scene. The stoat Lieutenant nodded, and passed the word on to the Boatswain, who promptly sent the Midshipjacks throughout the ship to announce dinner time, as well as to inform the Purser about the special arrangements. Ladorak, for his part, would be retiring to his cabin for his meal.
The crew was dissipating now and moving down to the lower gun deck for mess. Ocean approached Spender however, glowering at the hapless ferret. "Hope you enjoyed that. Blasted hell Spender what were you thinking?" exclaimed the ermine, with just a hint of worry in his tone. "I can't help you if you go and break the rules! You stepped way out of line, you realize that?" he demanded in an exasperated tone. Shaking his head, he sighed, waiting for the ferret to gather himself...and his trousers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crew was beginning to filter down to the lower gun deck, Midshipjacks scampering about and passing the Captain's orders on. Horace glanced briefly down at the mouse. He had been in the process of entering the gun room to head to his cabin before dinner, but fortunately Carrow had caught him in time. "Oh...for Caden you say? Sure...go ahead but be quick about it. Some of those Marine Lieutenants back there don't take kindly to outsiders...take my word for it they feel they're WAY more important than they actually are." the otter said, rolling his eyes.
It was no secret that the Marine Lieutenants had next to nothing to do until an actual battle came, so consequently they nearly died of boredom on voyages when they were off duty. Some tried to make themselves seem far more important than they really were, just as the Gunner had said. None of them would really give Carrow trouble however, provided he was in and out. Besides, Horace was heading back there himself, so would be able to tell any one of them that the rodent had permission. The Gunner was in charge of the gun room after all.
Behind Carrow on the gun deck, tables were being lowered and the mess cooks from each mess were lining up to get the food to bring back to their individual messes.
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Post by Carrow on Aug 8, 2010 13:13:34 GMT -5
Carrow smiled broadly at the friendly otter Gunner, swishing his tail to and fro in quite a pleased manner as his request was granted. "Thanks, sir. I'll be sure to be in and out about as fast as my paws can carry me," he replied jovially, grinning. Whilst not the speediest of creatures, the young wood mouse could be quite fleet of paw when he needed to - and of course, right now speed was the name of the game.
"I kind of have to, you see: need to collect Caden's lunch for him after this as well! In that case, must dash!" Ready to head in and collect his pine marten companion's books, but not forgetting to be polite, the mouse saluted smartly before taking off as though the wood beneath his paws was aflame. Racing into the gun room, Carrow stopped for a brief moment, scanning the room for Caden's books.
He had a sharp eye (hence the nickname that Archie had bestowed upon him) and such a trait had been beneficial to him in the past. It was again now, as the albino mustelid's haversack came sharply into view. Now Carrow remembered what he had been told back in the Sick Berth. This would make his task easier alright! Brown eyes lighting up, the rodent hurried over to the collection of 'personal effects', as his friend had put it, and took a peek inside to make sure. The books were there! That was good enough for him, so the mouse took it in both paws and departed.
The next question that Carrow needed to address was that of how best to proceed from there. He wasn't entirely sure if three plates of food would fit on the size of tray he'd be given. He knew that his mess cook duties didn't just include clearing up when it was necessary, after all.
The solution was simple; logical, too. He would leave the haversack with Elliot, before taking his order and going to get their food. When finished up above, the mouse would then give the beech marten his food, and then leave to bring the food, as well as the haversack (which didn't seem all that heavy) back to the Sick Berth for himself and his companion.
Having decided what the best, not to mention least time-consuming, method would be, Carrow headed for the mess, the haversack in his paws, hoping that he would soon spot his other marten friend. No doubt he would enquire after Caden and his wellbeing, but he was going to make it clear he didn't have time to chat, much as he would have liked to. Time was of the essence after all.
The rodent didn't realise how right he was until he pulled out his pocket watch, transferring the container over to his weaker left paw, and his eyes fell upon the hands. 11:55, he thought, Alright, no need for panic stations yet, but I really do hope Elliot shows soon. Just where could he.... ah, THERE we go! Carrow had spotted the beech marten as he'd made his way closer to where the mess was being set up, lining up as the throng of crewbeasts filtered in; there was no sign of Selvis, so evidently the weasel must have been a good deal further back.
He quickened his pace, moving as swiftly as he could with his paws full, until he was near her. "Elliot?," he called, raising his voice a tad to be heard above the growing hubbub. "I'd really love to stay and chat, but, well, I kind of have to get a move on. What food do you want, and... could you do me a favour and keep an eye on this haversack for me until you get to your table and set it down? Caden's books are in here, see, and I have to bring them, as well as his dinner, up to him as soon as I can manage."
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Post by bookity101 on Aug 9, 2010 22:43:49 GMT -5
Ellie was shocked. There was no other way to say it. It was the only way to describe what she was thinking after Spender purposely tried to break Caden's arm. Which wasn't much of anything. Numbly, she followed the crowd as they had gathered to watch the beating of Spender. She didn't say anything to Caden or Carrow as they passed, Ocean seemed to have every thing well in paw, then he also seemed to taking care of... well maybe that was the wrong word... chastising him was more like it.... so she continued on her way, glad that no one noticed she had averted her eye's for the whole beating... she really didn't want to see Spender's bare backside.
Now she was standing in line, waiting to get the table set up when Carrow came up with his request.
"Sure Carrow, I'll hold it umm, and I'll just take some of everything, especially the cheese, and umm I guess the half pint mixed with water I guess...." She took the sack from him and motioned him forward. "I'll be at the table when you're done." Ellie kept moving, setting up the table where the four of them normally ate lunch... of course today their would only be two.
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Post by Carrow on Aug 10, 2010 11:57:57 GMT -5
(Going to auto the Cook, Stewards and Purser here Carrow nodded at this, smiling at the beech marten as the weight of the haversack, albeit only slight, was taken from his paws. "Thanks, Elliot, I really appreciate it," he called to her. Things seemed to be getting even noisier now, almost to the point where conversation had no effect. Sighing a little, as he really would have liked to talk, even for this short while, the mouse got in line. To his immense relief, things were moving along quickly enough; unknown to him, Selvis had entered the mess. The rodent had thought he'd caught sight of his friend, but knew there was absolutely no time to be standing around playing spot the weasel, so he got a move on, and within moments (a time check revealed that it was 12:04 by the time he was at the head of the line), it was his turn to order. The rat cook looked sullenly down at him. Wow, he's having a wonderful time of it, the youngster thought, smiling up at his fellow rodent, as was his way. "Right, no 'anging around now, mousey - what'll it be?," he asked, and none too politely at that. "I'm ordering for three of us, sir - so it'll be two portions of beef and cheese, as well as one with beef, vegetables and cheese. Please and thanks," he added, remembering to be polite, even to such a surly-looking beast. His food was dished out on three separate plates - one for himself and his two friends. With that taken care of, the Dibbun continued on his way, and the next creature to meet him was the ferret Purser, who seemed to be in a much more cheerful mood. The mouse had always had the mustelid down as a diligent creature - oh, if only the trait was displayed by certain others of his species! - and he seemed to take pride in doing a job and doing it well. "Would you like some oatmeal?," the young wood mouse was asked. He shook his head. "No, thank you; *I* wouldn't, but could you put some onto... this plate, please?," he asked, pointing out Elliot's plate. The ferret nodded. "Sure." Soon, Elliot's food order was complete too. Smiling at the ferret Purser, Carrow moved down to where a Steward was presiding over the pawdling of drinks. Now, what was it Caden wanted?, Carrow thought. Then he remembered that his pine marten companion's order had inspired him to take the exact same: the mustelid was therefore in requirement of half a pint of rum. He smiled at the Steward, swishing his tail cheerfully as he placed his order. "I'm getting drinks for three, sir: two separate half-pints of rum, as well as a half-pint of watered-down beer." The Steward on duty nodded, his face remaining near-expressionless as he presented the drinks to the rodent. With all the food ordered, it was a difficult task taking it all back to the table and making sure nothing was dropped or spilt. Carrow found he had to use eevry bit of his concentration to make sure he made it back to the table without suffering any accidents. But make it the mouse did. Sighing in sheer relief, he lowered the tray before Elliot, smiling at her. "That was a bit more hazardous than I'd thought it would be, but it's all here now." Taking Elliot's plate and mug, he set them out on the table before the beech marten, smiling apologetically at him. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I really do have to go I'm afraid. I'll see you for Afternoon Watch in..." He checked his watch once more. "About fifty minutes." With that said, the mouse took up the haversack (which he put on his back), then took the tray in his paws and began making his way out of the mess, before making a beeline for the stairs. His ascent to to the upper gun deck was precarious, and there were indeed times where Carrow felt he should surely fall and that the last twenty (approaching twenty-five) minutes, should all prove to be in vain, but he made it up the last step, and with sheer doggedness driving him on, soon made his way to the Sick Berth - and oh, miracle of miracles, the door was open! Carrow knew that shouldn't normally be the case, but he wasn't going to complain. In he went, and he made straight for Caden. Setting the tray down beside the bed, he pulled up a free chair and took a seat. "Dinner's up, matey," the mouse murmured as he reached down and pawed his albino mustelid friend his vittles. "That was rather nerve-racking at times, I have to admit, but it was worth it of course! Hopefully your appetite hasn't suffered," he added playfully, smiling at his friend. "Go on then, tuck in."
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Post by Ladorak on Aug 10, 2010 21:31:44 GMT -5
Caden brightened considerably upon seeing the return of his mouse companion. "Well that wasn't too long." he said, sighing happily at seeing the food. He never thought he'd be so happy as to be eating dinner. But the cheese looked absolutely delectable, and the pork was good too, even if it would be a bit tough. He had his plate set down on top of his chest, sighing again, this time unhappily as he realized he would have to get used to eating left pawed. Why couldn't he be ambidextrous?
Picking up his wooden fork with his left paw, the marten gulped. "Well...here's to trying things in reverse..." He trailed off, realizing there was no possible way he could use his knife. And the pork would be tough due to having been salted. "Ugh...I can't use a knife either way!" he exclaimed in a frustrated tone, pounding his fork on his plate.
Shaking his head, he tried a different approach. "I guess I'll just have to get in touch with my ancestors eh?" he asked, stabbing the fork into the meat and pulling it up to his snout so that his teeth could rip and tear at it. Chewing first before turning to Caden, the marten had taken a small bite out of his meat.
"Sorry for the lack of manners mate but...what can I say? 'm a marten without the use of his dominant paw now." he told the mouse helplessly.
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Post by Carrow on Aug 11, 2010 5:28:50 GMT -5
Carrow smiled as his pine marten friend managed to circumvent the difficulty he had come up against. Good old Caden, the mouse thought, always remembering never to give up. Now, if it were me in this poisition I probably would have just thrown the towel in at the first hurdle. The mouse couldn't help but think these thoughts, because deep down within himself he knew it was true. If there was one thing he lacked, it was self-confidence.
"Heheh, see? You're getting along just fine under the circumstances," the young wood mouse encouraged the mustelid. "Manners, you say? There's no need to apologise about 'lack of manners'!" The rodent couldn't help but chuckle a little at this. "Needs must, right? You're doing what you can. Besides, I can hardly talk. When I was younger, we had to make... sacrifices," he murmured. It wasn't his fault he'd been born into a disadvantaged family, but he found it difficult to bring himself to talk about how things had been - because it always made him think of what MIGHT have been.
"By which I mean there were times where we couldn't use the cutlery as often as we would have liked. So there was a fair amount of using our paws to eat. In an odd way, I guess I'm sort of used to that, even though I was, oh, three years old at the time?" He smiled, this time more ruefully, at the recollection. "My parents had been set on making sure I got an education..." But all I got was four years of hell, the youngster didn't add. And other things too...
Shaking himself slightly, he thought of a way he could change the subject. Then the wight of the haversack on his back reminded the Dibbun that there were some other things he had to give to his marten companion. "Ah yes, I forgot. it's strange how quickly I got used to that weight actually - almost forgot I was even carrying that haversack of yours. Good thing I didn't," he added playfully, doing his best to cheer his friend up.
Dinner still on the plate at his footpaws, the long-tailed field mouse stood up and slipped the straps off his back. He sat down again with the container resting on his knees. Opening it, Carrow immediately found what he was looking for, and removed the books from the haversack, before moving them to occupy the sack's former position. His eyes sparkled as he met Caden's. "And here is your study material, mate!"
The mouse took up his plate, and began making inroads on his beef. They had done a sterling job with the victuals today; that much was clear from the smell of the food. He cut the meat into small strips, before impaling one on a fork and getting started on the business of eating. "Ah, the meat's particularly nice today," he commented in-between bites of the aforementioned meat, regarding Caden with a kind light shining in his eyes. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the mustelid's appetite, he could see that clearly.
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Post by spender on Aug 11, 2010 20:26:20 GMT -5
Spender curled up. He was a mess; mentally, emotionally, and physically.
His thoughts would start, then stop, then start again, winding around in circles, questioning each-other and over-simplifying in an attempt to make all this make sense. He no longer understood why he had been beaten. He no longer remembered his hatred towards Caden. He hated everything right now, and he didn't know why. He just knew it felt right.
What didn't feel right was the fear. He felt he shouldn't be afraid, but he was. He was scared of the Captain, of the wolverine, of the Quartermasters—all the officers and crew. Hate and fear swirled into a mess of contempt for not just the world, but himself. And for some reason, he felt sorry, too. He wanted to make things right, to undo whatever he had done. He couldn't remember what he'd done, and this scared him all the more. On top of this, embarrassment and shame filled him, fighting the fear and hate and sorrow for supremacy. All he could do was shut his eyes and hope that he could no longer see the faces of any of the crew ever again, for as long as he lived—and there was a creeping hope that his life would not take much longer to be snuffed out.
Physically, the ferret was disgusting. Ignoring the bruising and welts on his backside, his face was soaked with tears, snot, and drool from his wailings. It had dripped all down his cheeks and curved under his chin and down his neck, where it had dried quickly and caked into the fur. His arms and legs trembled fitfully in their newfound freedom, and his stomach and chest heaved with exertion, his lungs screaming for air that he either could not suck in fast enough, or was taking in too much of. He had thrown up, and then quickly swallowed before it reached his mouth—not so much luck with his other end, where he had widdled himself just a little.
He didn't want to hear anything, let alone Ocean's voice. He wished to raise his paw and slap the stoat away, but it was jelly. Useless and wobbling. Spender only just managed to crack his mouth open again.
"...go... go 'way..." he croaked—and then the sobbing started anew.
With effort borne of instinct, he began to crawl away, feeling with his paws and whiskers for a quiet, dark corner to hide in. Perhaps to die. He could think of no other outcome of his situation.
He left his pants where they had been tossed. He had no need of them where he was going.
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Post by Ladorak on Aug 11, 2010 21:57:19 GMT -5
Caden smiled gratefully at seeing the books deposited in Carrow's lap. "Thanks Carrow...of course...reading them will be a bit of a chore. Getting them up into my lap, then opening them all with my weak paw...it's going to be last year all over again." he sighed, going back to his food.
"Thanks though. I really do appreciate it. It'll help so that I don't fall behind. I'm not...sure I can put up with this again though." the marten said honestly, taking more bites out of his pork. "I mean...I had to deal with this last year after all, and well...every time it happens I'm afraid it won't heal right, or that it will heal, but that I'll suffer from deformity or something." he said, shaking his head.
"I know...I know...not the best thing to be concerning myself with right?" he asked. He briefly wondered if the mouse had ever suffered anything like this, but knowing Carrow he didn't ask the rodent, as he didn't want him spiraling into some depressed state. He decided to settle on a lighter topic...and try and not slip into depression himself.
"So...what did you think of fighting at the guns? I bet battle is going to be...intense to say the least. For us though, we only got about three years before we start working the jobs we're training for after all. Might not even see combat in that time...who knows?" the albino shrugged, completely unsure of himself. He knew his confidence was taking a big hit because of this...and his pain wasn't helping any. Throbbing and incessant...he decided to bite into his cheese and take a few sips of rum to see if that would help.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ocean sighed, shaking his head. "I...don't know what to do Spender. I never was any good at this sort of thing. I'd either beat you up if you tried to fight me or beat the other creature up that threatened us. But this...well this is entirely different. I mean...I've never had to watch out for you like this before...your folks always did that. Why'd you do it? You should've known you'd just get in trouble like this."
He found he was losing this reasoning battle though. Spender was telling him to go away, and was crawling...literally crawling over the deck. The ferret was actually sobbing...but who knew what was really going on inside his head? Ocean hadn't seen him in years after all...and even then he had been a tyke.
"I...don't you want to go eat? And get your pants on!" he went over to retrieve them from the deck. "You'll get in trouble for not wearing them!" he said, mostly under his breath. He set them in front of the ferret. "I don't want you getting in trouble again OK? Just put 'em on and well...here...let me help you up. I'll take you down to the gun deck so we can go eat, OK?" he stuck his paw down for Spender to grab on to. "I know it hurts but remember it. You got your comeuppance. You broke a rule. Simple as that."
Rolling his eyes, the ermine sighed and squatted down in front of the ferret, blocking his path. "Spender...say something alright? I'm trying to help you. What's so upsetting? Are y'ashamed?" he queried. "It happens alright? What do you want me to do?" he was bad at this sort of thing and he knew it. Always he'd been looking out for himself...rarely for others. He knew they would need to be down on the gun deck soon. Skipping a meal was tolerated...but not over and over again. He just felt...helpless right now. He couldn't read his brother anymore than Spender could read a book that had no pictures and contained only words.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked again, scratching his ear. The Boatswain's Mates were getting back to work, and though they eyed the two suspiciously, they didn't force them off the deck just yet. It was up to Spender to miss dinner or not, it would be his loss. Eventually he would need to eat. "I think maybe we should grab some grub eh?" Ocean tried, hoping to stir the ferret to action.
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Post by Carrow on Aug 12, 2010 7:41:26 GMT -5
"I have a suggestion to make as regards helping you with managing those books, mate, but I think that can wait for the moment." Inwardly, he couldn't help but wonder at Caden's pride, and this made him consider whether he should go through with his proposition. He knew some creatures didn't want to be helped - Spender was one such ungrateful beast - but Caden certainly didn't seem like the type, so that reassured the mouse a tad. Still though, he wondered how the pine marten would react in his current state.
His companion's subject change was the most welcome thing that could have happened at that moment, because seeing Caden there, lying injured and strugglling to hold himself together had triggered a small flashback in the rodent's mind. He had indeed been like this too, and it had happened under similar circumstances. There was a difference, though: Here, misfortune had been inflicted on a creature well enough equipped to deal with it, or at least it seemed that way to Carrow.
In his case, though, that particular event, that had happened almost four-and-a-half years previously, had changed his life. It had stripped him of his confidence and his self-esteem. It had given rise to a prolonged bout of depression, too; even when the wood mouse's physical wounds had healed, his mental scars had pained him endlessly. That day, he had been reminded that there were those in his life that hated him, that he was a hated mouse. In their eyes he had been a weak, insignificant orphan who may as well have been walking around with a target on his back.
They had taken it further than he'd even thought them capable of doing, that day. He'd been going through a rough time then, but just when he thought things couldn;t have gotten any worse, things suddenly turned blacker than they had been before... or since. He was still as fragile as a porcelain doll, however; if there was one specific consequence of what he now thought of as the single worst day of his life, it was that they had broken him... and they had taken a kind of sadistic pleasure from it, too.
He could see that his mustelid friend was losing confidence in himself, and it was painful to watch - but it was a completely different story when you'd never had any to begin with. Despite these darkest of thoughts flitting around the corners of his mind, he tried his hardest to steer clear of them. There were certain ones he knew he must never consciously think of, after all. Responding to his friend's question with a gentle swish of his tail, the mouse spoke his thoughts aloud.
"I really enjoyed it, actually. I know it didn't come across like that most of the time, but I had a lot on my mind earlier, and it really wasn't the best of times for me to be doing anything like that. I managed, though, and I can settle into that routine well enough with a bit of practice," he responded, sounding a lot more confident than he felt, demolishing another few slices of meat. The rodent was famished, and it showed.
"I just tend to wonder if I'm doing my best with these things at times, though... and whether my best is good enough. So even though I enjoy something like that, I don't wnjoy it because, well, I have to admit that I don't really feel I'm good at, er, anything. No matter how hard I try, I always feel I'm inferior to those around me. But I don't want to keep talking about this kind of thing," he addded with a nervous chuckle. "You should tell me, as I'm curious to know: how did you find the whole thing?"
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Post by bookity101 on Aug 12, 2010 19:12:04 GMT -5
Ellie smiled at her bustling friend, She snagged her tray before he had a chance to overbalance and topple with the other ones.
"Thanks Carrow... See you then." Ellie felt her smile grow as she watched her friend trundle off with the extra tray and bag. Turning to her tray, she bowed her head a moment to gather her thoughts, then dug in with relish.... maybe she should have said no to the oatmeal... Oh well. She glanced around, maybe Selvis would join her...
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