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Post by Ladorak on Feb 14, 2012 1:12:06 GMT -5
March 8th, 1795
9:00 AM
Livorno
Ladorak Fugate was sitting down to enjoy his breakfast of eggs cooked sunny side up with bacon and rye toast. He held a newspaper in one paw, and laid it out on the table next to him as he shifted his attention to his newly arrived food. The news from the continent was most disquieting for the Coalition. Ferlusan, Gradvar, and Mordenz were all in peace negotiations with Rosferia, leaving Kostritz and Calgary as the only land powers still in the fight.
As the days were still fairly short, Ladorak had not begun molting yet, but knew he was due soon. He was still in full ermine, and didn't mind that in the slightest. His fried eggs looked delightful this morning. He was staying in a rather posh inn near the waterfront that was putting up some of the sailors from the fleet, which had arrived in late January from Personza to winter here.
They were short one ship, the 74 gun Berwick, as her masts had rolled over the side in a heavy sea before the fleet set sail, and for some reason that was absolutely beyond the ermine, Hotham had sailed without her, leaving her to fend for herself instead of simply towing her. Highly irregular... leaving one of their own behind like that.
The whole fleet was riding at anchor out in the bay, and they looked positively magnificent. There was Hotham's 100 gun Welkannia, and three other three deckers, though they were 98 gunners. The Princess Royal, St. Pompom, and Windsor Castle. The rest were 74s, with two 64s, the Agamemnon being one of them. One of the 74s was a fabulous Neapolitan warship, from the Kingdom of Naples to the south. She was captained by Francesco Caracciolo, a renowned Calgarian naval officer, and this was not the last time the ermine and the Calgarian would be crossing paths. Caracciolo's ship was the ornate Tancredi, and she definitely showed up the rest of the Welkinite vessels she had been sent to assist. All told, there were thirteen warships out there.
Cutting into his eggs, the ermine began shoveling them into his mouth, savoring the taste. There was nothing like good eggs to start one's day off! Caden sat nearby, at the same table as his guardian. He was reading a book about the War of the Quadruple Alliance, and licked his claw as he turned a page, filling his mind with the origins of the conflict, including Cardinal Alberoni and his ambitions to undo the Treaty of Utrecht and reclaim Ferlusan's former glory.
Ladorak was in the process of dunking a piece of bacon into the egg yolk when he suddenly saw his capybara Admiral standing over him. "Admiral Hotham." he said simply, not rising to salute, as he was off duty, and didn't feel the capybara worthy of it anyway. "Fine morning, eh?" he asked casually.
"Forget the morning, Captain Fugate. You're needed. NOW." the Admiral said insistently.
"Oh? And what duties are so pressing my good sir?" the ermine asked without looking up from his paper. Caden was still paying attention to his book. The crunching of bacon could be heard as Ladorak bit down.
"The Rosferian fleet has been sighted." the bacon paused in midair as the capybara spoke. "They've put to sea. Intelligence received via express mail from Genoa this morning, addressed to me. Fifteen sail-of-the-line seen off the islands of Sainte-Marguerite two days ago."
"Near Cannes..." Ladorak said, suddenly gazing off far into the distance, entranced. The capybara nodded.
"And just now, one of our frigates, the Moselle, arrived in port, flying the signal for a fleet sighted to the northwest, heading south."
"Personza..." Ladorak said, still in that light, dazed voice.
"Aye. That's where we think they're heading. Most likely trying to retake the island. The Berwick is also out there somewhere as well."
No thanks to you, Ladorak didn't state aloud. "We need to bail our fellow sailors out. They'll be overwhelmed by a fleet that size, as will the island." They should've had fifteen, but with Berwick left behind and the Victory having conveyed Admiral Hood back to Welkin, they were down a few ships. "Your orders, sir?" Ladorak asked, suddenly all business.
"Prepare the fleet to sail immediately, your ship included. You will be last in the van division, behind the Captain, Bedford, Tancredi, and Princess Royal." Hotham explained. "Admiral Goodall in Princess Royal will have command of the van."
"I beg your pardon sir." Ladorak said, glancing at Hotham now. "Agamemnon is the fastest ship in the fleet... she should be first in the line, not fifth."
"Noted, Captain, but request denied. I know how much you champ at the bit for glory, but Captain Reeve will be leading in the Captain. Captain Frederick in the Illustrious will be following behind you in the center division. I don't want you outpacing the rest of the fleet, after all."
Ladorak offered a mock smile, and a nod. "Of course, sir. Well then... I'm going to finish my breakfast, and alert my crew to return to the ship. When do we sail?"
"I'm anticipating it will take most of the day to ready the fleet, so I'd like to sail at first light tomorrow. Ready your ship and crew, Captain."
"Aye, sir." Ladorak rose, and saluted, life suddenly springing into him. Caden had long since put his book down. A FLEET action? Would they really see one? The look of the hunter was on Ladorak's features now. He smelled blood, and he was going to become the battle master he so loved being.
The capybara soon departed, and Ladorak gazed down at Caden with a fire in his eyes. He was wearing his pince nez spectacles, having eschewed his monocle today. "Caden... get your friends ready to leave. In fact... pack and head down to the ship at the earliest possible opportunity. I'm going to finish my breakfast, and get there as quickly as I can. It's time... the moment we've long been waiting for."
"You got it, dad! Er... sir!" Caden said, saluting with a smile, and immediately started racing off down the hall to locate the others, book tucked safely under his arm.
Ladorak sat down and attacked his meal. Hotham wasn't fooling anyone. Ladorak KNEW why Admiral Pierre Martin had suddenly put to sea from Toulon. Hotham's questionable decision to withdraw the fleet from Personza to Livorno was now showing through, and as Martin sensed an opening, he had mobilized his fleet to try and retake the island. It was all thanks to their less than capable commanding officer. BUT... this was their chance! They may be outnumbered, but this was a golden opportunity to destroy their enemies in a single, glorious engagement! Of course... Ladorak had to hope that Hotham was up to the task... and that's where the ermine had serious doubts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scharnhorst had managed to track down Selvis, and had been spending a bit of time with him before they'd left for Livorno. Scharnhorst had followed, and was currently talking to the long tailed weasel in the common room of the inn, sitting by the window.
"Vell... you seem very vell situated here. I did enjoy ze tour you gave me of your ship. Very impressive. Are you eager to sail in ze spring?" he asked, munching on a danish as he gazed out the window, before turning his attention back to Selvis. Lot of activity in the fleet... that was unusual, considering they were in winter quarters for now.
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Ocean was pacing the hallway of the inn, just outside the common room. He had been helping Spender as much as he could, and praying for him almost every day. It was do or die time. He could just feel it. Something was different today. The fleet seemed busy with activity... but why? Were they setting sail soon? If so... he needed to check on Spender's condition.
Closing his eyes, the ermine hesitated, then rapped upon his brother's door. Progress? No progress? The answers would be revealed shortly. The real question was whether he'd be fit enough to join them or not.
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Post by spender on Feb 14, 2012 8:44:55 GMT -5
Spender didn't open the door.
Another ferret did, however. He looked a lot like Spender. Same fur tones, same clothes... but that was where the similarities ended. His face was still gaunt, body still barely past malnourished; he'd stopped looking like a skeleton, but all the food was going into rebuilding muscle mass, and he'd regained none of his original chubb. His fur was combed and clean, without any oatmeal or cheese stains clinging anywhere. His whiskers shone with their own glassy smoothness instead of the usual constant buildup of grease.
He'd started storing memories sometime in February, two weeks after regaining enough control of himself to open doors and drink from a cup. But they didn't stay for very long. One by one, things fell out, and nobeast could tell they were missing until they went to look again. Once, in the middle of a meal, he'd lost an entire week's worth of progress—gone in the space of a single chew. But nothing like that had happened for a while now.
Still, a card hung from a bit of string around his neck, just in case:
My name is Spender Cielciosk I have had an injury to my head and do not remember where I am I am a Seajack in the Welkin Navy, stationed on the Agamemnon If found, return me to care of Captain Ladorak Fugate or Seajack Ocean Sleet
Turning his head to the side, the ferret fixed Ocean with an eye that threatened to wander away at any moment. It was wet and glossy, and the cheek below it shone somewhat, as if he had been crying.
"H... hullo," he droned, voice barely audible. "Muh name is... is..." He nodded his head to some slow, silent beat inside. "S-puh-nn-dur."
Two more beats. He held out a paw.
"Puh-lite t...to shake. Hullo... Mullll...y?"
His face was still stoney and blank, but here and there it was coming back; tweaks of cheek and whisker, brow wagglings, lip stretchings. There was just the lightest hint of apprehension and hopefulness: had he remembered who this stoat was?
Turning aside, he gestured towards the bed.
"Come inside, t...take a..." Four beats. "Seat."
Though Spender cleaned up well, his room was a rhythmic mess. All of his toys were on the floor, bricks laid out in a straight line from biggest to smallest, triangle tops and cylinders clustered in little forests at either end. His ball and fox dolls were clumped together on a chair, and on the table his chess set was laid out with all the white pieces on white squares and all the black pieces on black squares. His two picture books and the jokebook lie open on the floor at the foot of the bed. Everything else was packed away in his trunk with the rest of his clothes. He'd chosen to focus on these objects for now. It was all arrayed in such a way that he could interact with any of them at a moment's notice. Most of his alone time was spent drifting from one thing to the next, trying to figure out what it was all for, what connected it all to him.
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Post by Carrow on Feb 14, 2012 18:33:51 GMT -5
Carrow was in the hallway as well. More precisely, he was heading in Caden's direction. There was a slightly contemplative look on his face as he walked. He was thinking about things, and his thoughts were on a few different things: some concerned what he and Archie had spoken about in early January. She'd had some news for him, news that she'd kept secret for more than ten years - not because Carrow wouldn't have been able to pawdle it, but because she'd needed to wait for the right time so that he could understand what had gone on, and why she'd needed to keep it to herself.
It turned out that Serina Sylvaticus had not actually been the field mouse's mother. Perrua Falima had died giving birth to Cerinus in Jerris's home on October 2nd, 1780. The strain of it all had eventually proved too much for her, and her heart had given in. Jerris had been torn between distress over hearing the news of his mate's death, and joy over seeing Cerinus alive and well - particularly so because he had been born six weeks premature.
Carrow had begun life as a weakling, but he'd grown stronger, cared for by Jerris who had taken a sabbatical from his job. For three months, his father had raised him alone - until he had met Serina Sylvaticus. It was pure chance that the two should have met, as Serina had undergone a painful separation the at the start of the year and had been left to pick up the pieces. Both had wanted a fresh start, but Jerris had needed to work hard to convince Serina to start going out with him, especially as he had a newborn to take care of. That was where the then-12-year-old Archia Mustela had come in.
Even at that young age, she had been fiercely independent and had gotten to know Jerris as she'd seen him at his work every now and then. He'd explained to her that she wouldn't be paid much for looking after Carrow when he needed her, but she'd accepted nonetheless. She visited the couple on and off over the next three years, and had been present at their wedding in January 1782.After Jerris had died, Serina - in her last days of having her wits about her - had asked the weasel, who had then been 16, to move in and help to look after the mouse, in mid-November 1784. When Serina died in January 1785, she moved out of the house, taking Carrow with her to her own residence, and so had begun their relationship.
Knowing that he had been touched by death when he had barely begun life had spooked Carrow, but not much else about the story upset him. He'd enjoyed hearing about what had gone on, because it cleared up a lot of the mystery that had surrounded his early life, and by the time Archie left on January 7th, he was feeling content. Now the veil had been lifted from his early years, he wanted to draw a line under them. Every so often, however, he thought about what had gone on - it popped into his mind almost unbidden at times.
He'd already spotted the amount of activity in the fleet. He knew that this might point towards them having to set sail again sometime in the near future. His belongings were nearby, and everything he had was packed away in his bag, save Caden's pendant (which hung around his neck) and Archie's watch (which, as ever, was in his pocket). He was ready to leave at a moment's notice - he didn't know it yet, but this was exactly what he'd need to do.
He wanted to check in with Caden, as there was something he needed to run by him, and also have a word with Alleline if he could manage it, though he had not as of yet seen the monitor lizard around this morning, and likewise with Tally. The goanna and mouse had really hit it off at the gala, and Carrow's was glad he hadn't let his nerves get the better of him that night, because he'd met a fascinating creature and was looking forward to spending more time with him. He continued on his way, hoping to catch sight of his albino companion soon.
He wasn't sure what condition Spender was in. He'd been checking in on the ferret every so often, maybe a few times a week, as that was all he deemed necessary due to how infrequently there seemed to be development with him, but as February had rolled over into March he'd started having genuine concerns about whether the ferret would be well enough to come back aboard the ship with them. He'd seen Ocean pacing back and forth across the hallway, and knew a decision would need to be made soon. He hadn't seen the state Spender was currently in, so couldn't say one way or the other whether he suspected he could return.
--
Selvis had been surprised to see Scharnhorst, initially, and had let him know as such. No mention had been made of his absence at the gala, but the two had talked about the event; more specifically, they'd spent a significant portion of their second meeting, a few days after Christmas, discussing the events of the night, namely the new reality Ferlusan now had to deal with. Selvis was able to view the situation in a calmer, almost more detached, light, now - there was nothing he could do, so there was no pointing tearing his fur out over it.
He had been pleased to receive correspondence from his parents in early January. Briga and Trelio had heard about the news, of course, and did their best to reassure their son about what the situation meant for them. Whatever occurred, they insisted, they would deal with it as best they could. They told him they were prepared for the worst but hoping for the best. Selvis was of a similar disposition now, even if, in recent times, he had grown increasingly distant from the country of his birth.
His parents were the only link to Ferlusan that he had left, aside from his fluent Ferlusanian. He'd received another letter from them in early March, one in which he had been told about developments at home, and how Trelio had gone back to work in a local shop on early January. He'd considered returning to sea but had dismissed the idea because Briga, and their hare house guest, Arbia Timidus, still needed him. (In truth, he'd gotten used to Crittenden once more, and had been loath to leave it, or those who depended on him.)
He'd approached Archie a few days after the gala, and told her that he would accept the present on condition that she not give him any presents again, because she really hadn't needed to shop for him in the first place. The older longtail had accepted, and since then, Selvis had gotten quite a bit of use out of her gift. He was regularly practicing new tricks, and was planning to show his new zorilla friend what he could do, as he hadn't quite gotten around to that just yet.
He was too busy talking to the zorilla to do much else at the moment, anyway. The first impressions he'd got of Scharnhorst were still ringing true; he was being excellent company - not that the longtail thought there was any shortage of that. He and Caden had grown significantly closer since Christmas, but he still had time for everybeast else of course. After all, he knew that those who could not learn from the mistakes of the past were doomed to repeat them.
"We are indeed well-situated, Scharnhorst. I've quite liked the time I've been able to spend here over the last few months, and living on the ship is everything I could have wanted from life at sea. It's been... quite a change for me, since I met you. When I saw you first, I was worrying about far too many things, but if there's one thing spending all this time on land has done, it's helped me to reassess my priorities and figure out what matters most, and I think I've done that.
"What do you think of our ship?," he asked with a smile, wanting to change the subject to something a bit lighter - he'd spent enough time ruminating on other things as it was. "You seemed quite impressed by it, and I can certainly see why... which brings me to my next question," he said in a slightly softer voice. "I know I've been asking you about this at times over the last while, but... have you decided with whom you're going to throw in your lot? Are... are you coming with us?," he asked, unable to keep a hopeful tone out of his voice.
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Post by Ladorak on Feb 14, 2012 20:16:12 GMT -5
Ladorak fumbled for the orders he'd received about a week ago. Admiral Hotham had outlined the line of battle should they put to sea to engage the enemy, and the default was subject to modification depending on the enemy's line at the time. He kept it constantly in his coat pocket, and hurriedly unfolded it on the table as he bit into his toast. Here it was, as follows:
Van Division Captain, 74: Captain Samuel Reeve Bedford, 74: Captain Davidge Gould Tancredi, 74: Captain Francesco Caracciolo Princess Royal, 98: Admiral Samuel Goodall, Captain John Purvis Agamemnon, 64: Captain Ladorak Fugate
Center Division Illustrious, 74: Captain Thomas Frederick Courageux, 74: Captain Augustus Montgomery Welkannia, 100: Admiral William Hotham, Captain John Holloway Egmont, 74: Captain John Sutton Rayn Castle, 98: Admiral Robert Linzee, Captain John Gore
Rear Division Diadem, 64: Captain Charles Tyler St. Pompom, 98: Admiral Hyde Parker, Captain Thomas Foley Terrible, 74: Captain George Campbell Fortitude, 74: Captain William Young
So there were fourteen... not thirteen. THAT made things even more interesting! They were only outnumbered by one in that case... and if they could link up with the Berwick, it'd be even... though with that said, it was questionable how useful she would be, having been dismasted after all. The Neapolitans helped tip the balance by sending one of their 74s up, but it would've been more useful if they'd sent more.
So those were the orders for sailing... with Welkannia being in the dead middle. It was no secret that she was one of the slower sailers in the fleet. How would that affect things? Which direction was the wind from? He squinted as he craned his neck to look out the window. Hmmm... east... no... it was coming from east-northeast. That was good! It meant they'd be to windward when they encountered their foes. But... it didn't necessarily mean anything either. Mediterranean winds shifted at whim, and often without warning. This wind could easily change, and most likely would, before they caught their foes.
All right... it was time to finish up and get out of here. But... he glanced down at his breakfast again. There was no REAL reason to rush his meal. They weren't sailing until tomorrow, so he had a little under twenty-four hours to get the ship ready. Fifth in line... Hotham was clever. He didn't want Ladorak first, as the ermine would easily dash off on his own, and expect the rest of the fleet to follow him. Hotham knew his subordinates well. He had put Ladorak just shy of the Center Division, or dead last in the Van. No way he'd be breaking away... unless a General Chase was ordered, of course.
All right... he needed to do several things. Eat, of course. Then check to make sure the ship had her proper quantity of powder loaded. Make sure all sails and yards were up and ready to be set, and that the anchor was raised as quickly as possible, as that could easily take several hours.
First things first though. He wasn't going to rush and give himself indigestion. It was hard... knowing the enemy was somewhere just over the horizon... waiting for him Waiting for the hunt to commence. Only one ship off... they were only one ship off. If they could encounter the Rosferians... it would be one hell of a battle, provided Hotham came through for them and acted decisively. They could outright crush and destroy their opponents, and gain dominance of the Mediterranean for the rest of the war.
Proceeding to continue cutting his eggs up, he smiled down at them, despite his racing heart. "Soon... a matter of days." He said to himself as he raised the egg to his mouth.
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Caden nearly ran into Carrow as he rounded the corridor. "Carrow! Just the mouse I've been looking for!" the albino exclaimed. "We've got to get ready! We'll be putting to sea tomorrow at first light, and need to be on the ship as soon as we can manage today."
The albino was clearly excited, and it wasn't difficult to read that upon his features. "Intelligence has just come in from Genoa and one of our frigates confirmed it as well! The Rosferian fleet has FINALLY put to sea! Fifteen sail of the line! Heading for Personza, most likely to retake it. We're going to try and head them off and bring them to battle! Just think! FINALLY! A fleet action! With our 'home' fleet, at that!" the albino declared.
"Have you seen Selvis? I need to let him know. Oh yes... I heard we're going to be fifth in line, or so. I guess that's not so bad, depending on who's fifth in line in the Rosferian fleet." he said, winking. "Ladorak wasn't too pleased, as he naturally wants to be leading the line, but eh... I'm just excited to be actually getting out there." he said, chuckling at his guardian's ways. This was rather significant for him, as he'd not yet fought in a fleet action with the Mediterranean squadron. It had seemed so elusive, and now, almost two years later, it was finally happening. Unfortunately, it was NOT under Admiral Hood, whom Caden had really wanted to fight with.
Admiral Hotham was hardly inspiring but... all the marten could hope for was that it would play out as well as it could. "So if you help me find Selvis, we can all get packing, and I'll keep making my rounds. Was NOT expecting this at all, so I still have to pack! Gotta hurry!" he said, looking about him frantically, anxious to get moving.
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"Oh... thank you." Ocean said, caught off guard by Spender's suddenness. But... at the same time... it was slightly reassuring as well. Perhaps God was slowly answering his prayers. He moved into his brother's room now, noting the organized clutter. It was atypical for the ferret.
"Um thank you, but I'll stand." he said, nodding. "How are you doing?" he asked, looking about him to see everything scattered about. "We might be sailing soon... and I wanted to know if you felt up to it. I know your memory hasn't really been the best... and you may even need to re-enlist, if it makes it easier on the Captain." Re-enlisting Spender was probably best, especially if he had no true memory of his time before this.
"Of course... if you need more time... I'm sure the Captain would be happy to oblige. This is one of our bases, after all, so we'll be back here at some point." he explained slowly, finally managing to take a seat on Spender's bed. He looked at his brother now, trying to read him, and see just how far he'd really come since then. Chances were he'd need more time but... it was possible he was ready.
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"Ah, yes vell..." Scharnhorst trailed off here, looking out the window again at the fleet. "It DOES seem rather tempting... but... I'm not positive just yet. I have to admit... I know ze life of a soldier is down and dirty, and it's slightly less so in ze navy but... I vould have to admit zat I'm still deciding." He said, nodding. "I've ruled out Ferlusan, of course. Zere is not much reason for me to go zere, especially now that it seems zey may be leaving the Coalition."
His comments were simple, and not meant to imply anything. After all, becoming neutral wasn't such a big thing for Ferlusan, was it? "Don't vorry zo... I feel I vill have to make a decision at some point. My money von't last forever, after all." he said, smiling and shaking his head. "Your ship vas very nice!" he stated now, nodding happily.
"I enjoyed valking about it, and seeing ze rest of ze fleet as vell." he frowned now, looking down at the table in an intensely thoughtful manner. "If of course I DON'T join right away, I vill be sure to vrite but... at zis point... it looks like I probably vill." he said, frown turning into a smile as he looked up at Selvis.
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Post by spender on Feb 15, 2012 6:12:55 GMT -5
Spender moved slowly, shuffling over to the chair. He picked up the fox dolls, one in each paw, and moved them to the table, then took the ball and sat down in its spot, holding it on his lap. He kept nodding slowly, as if in a slow rocking chair.
"I wunnter go," he said. "S...sailing. I wunnter go sailing. On the..." He looked down and turned the ball in his paws until the ferret on it came around. "I dunn like it here. Dunn wunnter s...stay. Cun we go on the... I wunnter see..." He bit his lip and growled a little. "Wunnter go on the... WOT IS IT CALLED!"
The storm came on strong and sudden; Spender's whisper rose to a howling gale in an instant, and he began to kick at the floor and wail the ball into the chess set, sweeping it left and right, scattering the pieces as he let loose a primal scream of frustration.
Six seconds later, it was gone. He sat there, perfectly still, still squeezing his ball. He wasn't even breathing hard.
"It sits on wutter," he said calmly. "Please. Find it in the... in the... BOOK!"
He pointed to the book Molly had given him, the picture encyclopedia, lying open on the bed beside Ocean. The ritual would be familiar to the stoat by now: find the picture of what Spender was thinking of, so he could remember what it was called. He hated hints. Hints upset him, more than beasts simply filling in when he trailed off. He knew what he was thinking of, he just needed the word, the exact word. And words were all too much alike, sometimes. Somebeast would helpfully sound out the first letter and Spender's brain would run with it, filling in the rest—but never once with the right other sounds. Stoats were not stamps, and mice were not mouths.
Claws curled. Elbows tucked. Dip forward. Wriggle behind. Skip once. Spring up, splaying claws and arms. Hunch back down. Repeat.
This was the dance of the happy weasel who sensed he knew what the future held.
Until his glasses slid off, whereupon he stopped, picked them up, brushed them off, put them back on, coughed self-consciously and looked around to see who'd seen him. Turned out, most of the crew on the weather deck had been staring. He grinned at them anyway. He was too happy to feel silly.
It was just a matter of time, certainly—most certainly! The Captain would be coming aboard soon and the Agamemnon would be preparing to set sail. He could see the other ships doing the same already. The bustle of their crews could mean nothing else. Back to sea! Back home!
Willard went back to dancing.
Tally was sound asleep. Molly was not a harsh mistress; she rarely roused the rodent herself. She was content to postpone breakfast until Tally was ready.
Meanwhile she sat back in her chair and practiced her flute as quietly as she could. It sounded not unlike a tobacco-addicted cockatoo getting strangled by a hissing viper.
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Post by Ladorak on Feb 16, 2012 1:11:20 GMT -5
"Spender!" Ocean raised his voice as the ferret began to viciously attack his chess set. "Please... calm down!" he stared at his brother, who was suddenly sedate again. He was almost shocked... but more worried about these outbursts. They were too violent... and would land him in irons before long.
Sighing, he waited for the ferret to speak. The book... of course. He pitied his brother, but he also wasn't sure he was safe to be around either. If he was this explosive...
Ocean needed a match. Or a flame. But he reached for the book instead, nodding. "Here." he opened the cover, and moved it to the S section, and more specifically to the picture of a ship. "This... right?" he asked, turning it, and holding it out to Spender.
"Ship. Warship in particular." he said, letting Spender read the word. He looked out the window of the inn. "You picked a hell of a time to rediscover yourself." he mumbled, knowing it would probably mean nothing to his brother. "I just hope it means something... for both our sakes. If you want to come with us... you're gonna need to start slow..." and that means... a job that DIDN'T require going aloft... which meant being a waister, or a just about worthless crew member... but maybe that was good too. Start slow... and build up to the other things. Demotion to landjack maybe... but hey, it was better than not serving at all, right? Spender clearly didn't want to stay here. "You want to go sailing... right?" he asked, smiling hopefully now, and glad his brother had picked up on that word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ladorak rose, having finished his meal. It was time to collect his wife and Tally. They needed to get ready... and he had every intention of being on the ship within the hour. The Coxswain would be ready... or Caden would. Either one could command one of the ship's boats.
He walked with a bounce in his step, heading to the best mate in the world. The best wife in the world! He no longer had any doubts about anything. He could do this! He'd prove himself in combat, Hotham or no Hotham! It was his time now!
Rapping upon the door, he didn't wait for her to say "enter" or whatever she'd say. They were married after all... what could she possibly be doing that she'd want him to stay out?
"Molly!" he exclaimed. "We need to sail! The Rosferians have FINALLY put to sea from Toulon! We are to engage them in battle before they can reach Personza! It's time, my love!" he said, suddenly noticing Tally. "Oh... sorry." he said, lowering his voice considerably.
"Um... we have to pack! I need to make sure the ship is ready to set sail... and you'll be right by my side! We'll do this together!" he said, moving up to her, nuzzling her with his snout affectionately before he turned to his luggage. "Hmmm... I'm a little disorganized... shouldn't take too long though!" he began throwing stuff into his trunk, trying to pack it in as best he could and leave room for everything that needed to follow.
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Post by spender on Feb 16, 2012 4:45:00 GMT -5
"Yes," said Spender, coming over to the bed to take the book. "Sailing on the warship."
He put his paw on the picture, then slowly slid it off so he could study it. This warship... it had to be where he belonged. It just had to. There was no other place he could think of where he did. It certainly wasn't here, and it hadn't been in the Palace, though he barely remembered that place now...
"I gon...na start slow. Slow like I am slow." He looked up, almost—but not quite—grinning. He'd been starting slow for as long as he could remember. Speed was not something he was capable of just yet. Apart from his frustrated fits, almost all his movements were thought out, either by necessity to remember how to do what he wanted, or through training. He'd gotten a lot of help from the Palace physicians, and most of their teaching was ingrained in him now. Most of it was courtesies: please and thank you, shaking paws, don't spit at anyone, don't widdle on anyone... simple stuff.
But in teaching him these things, they'd taught him how to watch himself before he caused a disaster, how to pause at the top of stairs, how to turn a knob before throwing himself at a door, and how to apply the concept of deliberation before any movement. He'd tripped over his own tail enough times to figure out this would be a necessity of his life. Sometimes he didn't remember to think out his movements beforepaw. Usually what happened afterward reminded him why he needed to.
He hugged the book to his chest and kicked his footpaws, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"When do I go sailing, Mully?"
The real 'Mully' blinked, caught off guard and rather flummoxed at her mate's energy. She raised her flute back to her lips and blew an accidental B flat, then set it aside and sighed. She was still in her nightgown and slippers. It was too early for this much excitement! (Not entirely true; 4 AM was usually when it got too early for such excitement. 3 AM was just early enough, though.)
Tally barely stirred. Somewhere along the way, she'd gone from being a light sleeper who woke up at the tiniest nose-squeak to a little lady of a log, being sawed away at by her own snores. Growth spurt, Molly assumed. Striplings not involved in the navy were always sleepy, lanky little creatures, more interested in the opposite gender and more naps than they were in smelling nice or getting a job. Or maybe she was thinking of Blinky.
"Personza," Molly said, her morning ermine brain trying to catch up. "Polly!" She sat up. No, this wouldn't do at all! She had thought earlier about just asking to stay here if they were called off—Calgary was such a lovely country, and it was safe here, without going all the way back to Welkin. But Ladorak was right. She would need to be with him, on the ship, fighting. She'd sworn off of it earlier, or so she'd thought. But now they were fighting to protect Polly and all those little ferret kits.
She ran to the closet and began tugging her dresses down, throwing them into a trunk without folding them. Wrinkles were sexy anyway.
"Give me a blunderbuss and a cutlass," she muttered under her breath. "If they harm one tiny hair on those kits, I'll blast every zhipperfrisking Rosferian between the eyes and strangle the survivors with my garters..."
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Post by Carrow on Feb 16, 2012 11:03:01 GMT -5
Carrow, meanwhile, narrowly avoided a collision with his albino marten friend - very narrowly indeed. It wasn't that neither of them had been looking where they were going, more that one moment Caden had been nowhere to be seen, and then the next he was right there next to him. The mouse hadn't been expecting them to run into each other this soon, as he hadn't been too sure where the mustelid had been, and was lucky that he didn't manage to do so in the literal sense.
"Ah! Caden!," he exclaimed, smiling widely. "I've been looking for you as well - just wasn't expecting to find you like this. Where've you been?," he enquired, noting his excited disposition. He listened as his companion went ahead and answered his question - not directly, of course, but it became clear to the rodent that today would be the day he'd been looking forward to so much for the last few weeks.
Life on land was great too, of course, but all he'd needed to hear was that they were preparing to set sail. First light tomorrow! The field mouse gave a little wriggle of excitement, and as the mustelid went on to tell him that a fleet action was imminent, his eyes widened to saucer-like proportions. "Cor...," he breathed, scarcely able to believe it. "A fleet action..." He shook himself a little to regain his composure. "Er... yes, sir! I'll start getting ready as soon as possible," he said readily, unable to wipe the smile off his face.
He shook his head at his friend's next question. "I haven't seen him this morning, but I know for a fact that he's around here somewhere because I heard him get up, and that was roughly a half-hour before I did. I have an idea of where he could be, though, so how about we try the common room of the inn?" Carrow reckoned Selvis had already had breakfast or was in the process of doing so, because he'd noticed the weasel liked to have it around this time - not too early, but not too late either.
As it was, Carrow himself had already eaten, and it was just as well, as he felt himself trembling a little with excitement - when the rodent was excited, he found it difficult to eat. Heading back the way he had come, he let Caden know his thoughts on the recent developments as they walked. "We'll just have to see whom we'll be up against, I suppose," he said with a small shrug. "I don't really mind in any case, as much like yourself I'm just excited to be taking part in something like this!
"I'll do my best to help you find Selvis, but as I mentioned earlier, of course, he shouldn't be too hard to find. As for me, I don't need to do that much packing. Pretty much everything I own fits in the bag I have, and it's all packed away, save, of course, for that pocketwatch you got me for my 13th birthday... and also that pendant you gave me for Christmas, both of which I'm never without," he added in a softer tone of voice, smiling warmly at his companion. "Oh! I've just remembered. I was hoping to ask you about something," he told the pine marten as they neared the common room.
--
Selvis nodded also. "I can certainly see why you're still deliberating. It doesn't come as much of a surprise to me, either, as this is obviously a big decision for anybeast to make. I've done my best to convince you that it's the right thing to do, and it's in your paws now. If you need more time, then that's fine, I'd just... have to ensure we kept in touch somehow if you didn't come with us when we set sail," he said honestly. He didn't want to lose the zorilla's companionship, especially as they'd spent so much time together recently.
He was unable to keep from smiling as his fellow mustelid mentioned that he had ruled out Ferlusan. That was good. "It does seem like they will be doing so, yes, but that's not why I'd discourage you from joining them. I have to be honest - you'd be making a mistake throwing your lot in with them, because, as I've told you before, their standard of sailor is terrible. Even if I'd been offered a place on their crew, I probably would have turned it down, because I knew that I'd be able to do better, and well, so can you."
He sighed a little as his friend continued speaking. "I'm not exactly worrying, but... you know, I would like it very much if you were to serve on our crew. It'd really be good for me to have you around. I've gotten to know you quite well over the last few months, after all, and I'd like to keep that going as best I could," he admitted. Selvis had long finished his breakfast, and had simply been talking to Scharnhorst for the last while. They'd been spending their mornings like this for a while, and the longtail quite enjoyed the routine.
"I'm glad that you enjoyed the ship, and I hope I managed to do a good enough job of explaining it. There are those on it who could do quite a bit better than me, but then again I'm still learning, so that's to be expected. I still struggle with Common at times, even though I've been improving... no more than yourself, I would expect. You've come on considerably since I met you, and you've done quite well with it. Well done!," he exclaimed.
He noted the frown on the zorilla's face; it appeared that the striped polecat was deep in thought about things, and Selvis didn't blame him in the slightest. He would soon make a decision that would, for better or worse, affect the rest of his life. It wasn't something one rushed into. "Which ship from the rest of our fleet struck you as the most impressive?," he asked curiously, not wanting to include the Agamemnon in his query, as it was easily the weasel's favourite in the fleet - mainly because it was home for him now.
His ears perked up slightly as Scharnhorst mentioned his intentions to write to him if he didn't join. He brightened up considerably, relieved to hear that his fellow mustelid was thinking along the same lines as he was. "I'd love it if we were able to become pen-pals or something like that, yes! Caden will have Constantine Pavlovich for that - not to mention as his Delornian tutor as well," he added with a small chuckle, "which reminds me that I would be quite interested in learning your language. I'm fluent in Ferlusanian, my common is all right, and I can do my best with Calgarian when required, but that would be something quite different!"
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Post by Ladorak on Feb 16, 2012 13:50:48 GMT -5
Ladorak was busy throwing his possessions into his trunk. He'd need to have the servants take them down to the boat as soon as he was ready. The ship had a plentiful supply of young servants after all, usually striplings, who were not capable or too young to carry out the more rigorous tasks of life at sea.
"Yes... Polly IS there... isn't she?" he muttered back. In all honesty, he wasn't thinking about Polly, but more about losing those bases they'd worked so hard to obtain! He'd lost some of his crew to those sieges after all, and he'd be damned if he was going to let the Rosferians retake the island and undo all their backbreaking work. Plus, it would be disastrous for the blockade, and once again deprive the Welkinites of a suitable base close to Toulon.
"A blunderbuss?" he asked, pausing and looking up before glancing at her over his shoulder. "Aren't you a century behind, dear?" he asked, chuckling. "Those are rather dated, and terribly inaccurate except at very close ranges. A musket would do far better but..." He stopped again to think. "I don't believe we HAVE any blunderbusses on the ship. They stopped being standard issue around the 1740s on our warships. However, a cutlass, I CAN assist you with." he stated, going back to packing.
"Oh yes..." he said, remembering something he wanted to bring up now. "I know I've thanked you profusely for my Christmas present... but what I was thinking about was perhaps I could reciprocate on your Birthday... and vice versa." He said, smiling to himself as he shoved a few knicknacks that he'd picked up in town in with his belongings. "It was awfully fun after all... though of course... that would depend on our level of comfort with it." he said, picking up his bassoon case and resting it against the wall.
"I have to say again though... it was certainly the best Christmas present I think I've ever received in my entire life!" he laughed, keeping it low key for Tally's sake.
Slamming the lid shut, he snapped the clasps closed, and stood the trunk upright. Looking about him to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he wandered over to the door, and poked his head out. "BOYS!" he shouted out to the dozing ship's boys/servants in the hall. "Let's go! Got to get this luggage to one of the boats!" he noticed one of the Coxswain's mates was there as well. "Ah good!" he pointed at him. "Go tell the Coxswain that I'll be there soon. Get our boats ready for launch! We're setting sail tomorrow!" The Coxswain's mate gave a salute, and darted off down the hall as the servants shuffled forward, Ladorak holding the door open for them to begin taking their luggage.
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"Well, we might be sailing soon." Ocean explained softly. "I see a lot of activity today... atypical for a wintering fleet. I just hope..." at that moment a loud banging sounded on Spender's door, and Caden's voice came from without, causing Ocean to jump.
"Spender! If you feel capable, we're setting sail tomorrow, and all crew need to be on the ship today! Pass the word!"
"Huh! Well what do you know?" Ocean asked, moving off the bed and heading over to the door to open it. "Caden!" he called, noting the marten was moving to rejoin Carrow. "I'll be sure to get him packed! Thanks!" shutting the door after the marten had nodded in acknowledgement, the ermine turned back to Spender.
"Well... let's get you packed and ready to leave. Do you need help? Your things are all over the place." he noted aloud, looking about him again. "Where's your sack? We can start throwing things in and... hold on..." he said, moving back to the door and reopening it. "Hey! Caden! WHY are we sailing?"
Caden, who had almost rounded the corner, paused in mid-step. "Rosferians have sailed from Toulon! Fifteen sail-of-the-line headed for Personza!"
Personza? But that was where... he closed the door again. "Well!" He said, smiling nervously as he whirled back around and clasped his paws together. "You locate that sack yet?"
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"Common room, you say?" Caden asked, turning about face with the mouse to go back in that direction. He had just paused to rap upon Spender's door, and had fortunately run into Ocean in the process as well. That saved him the troube of tracking him down.
"Well that's as good a place as any, to start. If not, we'll try his room. And yes... it shouldn't take me too much time to pack. I only have a few books scattered about. Oh... Rosferians." Caden reiterated, as Carrow asked who they'd be up against. He'd probably just forgotten in all the confusion. He could hardly blame the mouse! His own heart was thundering like a storm ready to break over the hillocks of Welkin!
"Fifteen of them... meaning we're slightly outnumbered by one, BUT... we should have more three deckers than they do, so that should even the odds a bit, as last I checked, they only had one, their flagship." their flagship of course being a formidable opponent; at 120 guns, she had more than any ship in the Welkinite fleet. But those extra three deckers on their side would certainly help matters.
Carrow was commenting that he wanted to ask him something now, and the albino was rather glad that the rodent wore his pendant with him on a regular basis, but the question would have to wait, as they were almost at the dining room...
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"Ze Velkannia." Scharnhorst replied without hesitation. "Your flagship vas quite impressive. Big too, though I hear not quite as famous as your previous flagship, ze Victory, vhich I sadly did not get a chance to see." The latter ship was currently in Welkin, having delivered Admiral Hood back to his home country. It was undergoing a short refit and was getting ready to sail once more to the Mediterranean to rejoin the fleet.
"I also vas impressed vith ze Princess Royal, zo I hear your second rates do not sail as vell as your first rates do." the zorilla commented.
"Teach you German?" a smile began to crease his features. "Not many vish to learn German. Rosferian or Common are ze diplomats' tongues. However... if you really vant to learn... I'd be happy to oblige." he said, sitting back in his chair, right as Caden and Carrow entered.
"Selvis!" Caden said, calling out to him. "We have to get ourselves back to the ship as soon as possible! We're sailing tomorrow! The Rosferians have put to sea! Fifteen sail-of-the-line, making their way toward Personza! Our orders are to head them off and engage them in combat. Whole fleet is getting ready to sail, so let's look sharp!" the albino stated with enthusiasm, snapping his claws.
The striped polecat paused here. "Vell, vell... ze Rosferians are finally at sea. You know vhat? Stuff it! I'm joining!" the zorilla threw his napkin onto the table and stood up. "I'll pack my things and enlings as a Gunner's mate. I've made up my mind." he stated, nodding firmly. "See you at ze boat, zen?" he asked, smiling.
Caden looked to Carrow as he chose to stop and rest here for a moment, leaning one paw against the back of a chair. "So... what did you want to ask me?" he inquired of the mouse, shifting his weight from one paw to the other.
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Post by spender on Feb 17, 2012 2:53:15 GMT -5
"A blunderbuss," Molly repeated. "I like it. It's dirty and messy. I have my musket—Little Laddy—and I'll use him! But when it comes to any who hurt Polly... range isn't going to matter."
She blushed a little—an amazing feat for her—as she considered his next proposal. Tally was sitting up now, rubbing her eyes, finally wakened by all the shouting. Molly carefully considered her reply. Of course she could just boot Tally out into the hall, but sometimes were was something more fun about trying to say something without someone in the room knowing what you were on about.
"I would say I... was not comfortable with it at first. I'd never tried it until then. But I adapted rather well, I think! I would certainly be interested in trying it again the exact same way. It was exciting! I've been doing it one way my entire life... never thought to mix it up. There is also the advantage of not breaking my promise. Such a thing could possibly open the gate for me, you know... Best to stick with what we know works, mm?"
Her dresses were all out of the closet. She began to put away Tally's.
"I've almost forgotten when my birthday is. Never really had anyone to celebrate with in the Imperium, and once I got out, it didn't seem very important. I don't think we've done anything for me last year, or the year before. What day was it? April 17th, or 19th? Or 18th?" She wrinkled her muzzle. "Or maybe I should just move it to exactly between Christmas and yours, if it isn't already. And while we're doing that, someone else needs a birthday date. What do you think, Tally?"
The mousemaid yawned, still trying to process the conversation.
Molly went on: "I think that little weasel fellow has the right idea, what's his name, Willard. He doesn't know his birthday, so he pretends it's on New Year's day. Would you like that day, Tally? Birthday pals with your favourite white weasel?"
"I'm a frock. Ribbit."
"I thought so."
Spender stared at the door for a few moments, wobbling. The dialogue with the creature beyond the door had moved too fast for him to follow. Oh, well. If it was important, Molly would tell him. Right now he needed to find that sack...
Shuffling over to the chest under the window, he opened it and pulled the sack out. The first thing he put in was the Helpful Book. After that, he ran out of ideas. He looked about the room, then back into the chest. There was just some spare clothes and a bundle of letters from his family, and underneath that, pictures of a ferret he didn't know. He'd looked in a mirror for hours to make sure it wasn't himself.
He cast the letters aside, thwopping the whole stack onto the floor behind him, and began putting the clothes in one by one, accidentally unfolding each article as he dragged them out of the chest and into the sack.
"Cluvvs are impurrtant," he said. "Gotta wear cluvvs. Dunn need paper... can't read." He looked at the picture in the bottom of the chest, the only thing left. Then he closed the lid.
"Do I need this... this..." He closed his eyes and nodded, one, two, three, four, five... "—stuff?" He waved at the rest of the room. "It's n...n...nutt mine."
He picked up the tattered fox doll from the table. It had been his closest and most beloved possession for over fifteen years now. Ocean and Caden had been there when he'd opened it, his last birthday present of the day. He'd slept with it every night of his life, carried it around in his pocket or under a hat, wiped his face with it after meals, whispered the most private secrets to it in the dark. Now all he saw was a piece of mouldy junk. He couldn't fathom why it was here in this room with him. He couldn't figure a purpose for it. It wasn't a tool, wasn't food, wasn't anything but an ugly, damp mass of fabrics and wool.
He dropped it without care.
"Why i...is all this stuff here?" He nudged a brick with his footpaw, knocking it over onto a black bishop. "Wot do... do do with?"
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