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Post by Ladorak on Jul 9, 2011 12:59:15 GMT -5
The Cobalt Squadron was at it again; this time they were besieging the last Rosferian stronghold on the island of Personza. Unlike last time, Captain Ladorak Fugate now had the full cooperation of the Army, as the new commander, General Charles Stuart, had replaced the recalcitrant Colonel Abraham D'Aubant.
Stuart was proactive about taking out the Rosferians on Personza, and had immediately turned to the vigorous use of his troops in getting the last fortified town, Calvi, under siege. 2,000 Welkinite troops had landed, and batteries had been swiftly constructed, until a full 35 guns were covering the forts that ringed the town.
It was quite the impressive operation, but it was also taxing. The hot July sun was some of the worst in the Cobalt Sea, and it was called by the natives of the island the "Lion Sun" for good reason. Even though in terms of temperature, it wasn't all that hot, being in the upper 80s and lower 90s in terms of Fahrenheit, the humidity was appalling, and fresh water, though collected during the heavy rainfalls, was often times scarce. You could have days of torrential downpour, but you could always have days of scorching heat, and with the hard physical labor, occasional lack of drinking water and hot sun, many of the besiegers were falling ill.
Although the Rosferian counter fire was fierce, and the Welkinite guns firing back equally so, disease was taking a heavier toll than the gunfire. It was of varying kinds, with fever, fatigue, and other symptoms reported, resulting in a plethora of intakes at the field hospitals. The heat was causing Ladorak's malaria to act up from time to time, but he kept himself fit and working in order to stave off both an inability to execute his duties, and boredom. He drank gin and tonics daily to help keep his symptoms under control, and he pressed on in the face of it all.
Caden had managed to dodge any sort of illness at the moment, but they were reaching the point where almost one out of every two beasts on the siege was sick. They weren't quite at 50%, the official tally being around 35 to 45 now, but it was still rather appalling. He was extremely thankful for being in good health, as he wanted to participate as much as he could in the upcoming assaults he knew were scheduled to take place.
Ocean wasn't so lucky. They weren't quite two weeks into the siege and already he was feeling under the weather. Complaining of a fever, cough, and headaches as well as general malaise, the ermine had visited the hospital, and was told to get plenty of rest and not overexert himself. There were times, particularly standing under the sun, where he felt faint, and would have to retreat into the shade for relief. The ermine only hoped it wasn't serious, and that he was just suffering something more common than not.
As it was, the plan was going well, in spite of the harrowing conditions. The town of Calvi had three fortresses: the outer most one of Monteciesco, one right above the town called Fort Mozzello, and a water battery to cover the harbor, called the Fountain Battery. Stuart's plan was to bypass Monteciesco, as he considered it a waste of time to focus on, and instead concentrate on taking out Fort Mozzello, for if they could capture that, the town's citadel would be dominated by the guns of the fort.
Accordingly, he had his subordinate, Colonel John Moore, one of the most dashing officers in Welkinite service, launch a feint at night against Fort Monteciesco, in order to distract the Rosferians and get another battery constructed, one close enough to breach the walls of Mozzello. The plan had gone beautifully, with Moore performing his task expertly, and keeping the Rosferians so pinned that by the next morning, much to the latter's chagrin, they now found a newly constructed battery only 700 yards from Fort Mozzello, more than adequate distance for breaching.
A heavy fire was then kept up on both sides, the Rosferians struggling to knock this new battery out, while the Welkinites persisted and despite suffering casualties and several dismounted guns, pounded away at the walls of Mozzello, causing sections of them to start to crumble and give way. Once a breach had been formed, an assault could be made.
As it was, they were all waiting with bated breath, as all of them knew that if there was going to be an assault, it would be one to remember. Most seajacks never got to take part in such a thing, and Caden had been one of the first to volunteer. Ocean had as well, provided he felt strong enough for it, and of course Ladorak said he had every intention of letting him participate only if he could.
As it stood, today was just as hot as usual, being 89 degrees out, with high humidity. Caden exited his tent, having taken his dinner in there. He wasn't risking anything, and stayed in the shade when he could. It was about midday now, and he looked around him, the rocky landscape being similar to where they'd been at Bastia. The really ironic thing he found about this siege however, was that an old opponent of theirs was docked in Calvi harbor.
The Rosferian 40 gun frigate Melpomene was lying at anchor out in Calvi bay; having nearly sank from her encounter with the Agamemnon last year, she had just barely managed to limp into Calvi, and here she had sat, under blockade and unable to leave ever since. Caden found it extremely ironic that they had come full circle, and if they captured Calvi, they'd take the frigate too. How ironic indeed! To find their opponent from last October sitting right down there in the harbor, practically helpless and on the verge of falling into their paws. Caden rather liked it, and found it deliciously amusing.
Slipping his top hat onto his head, the marten exhaled as he felt the heat. Hoo, another hot one today. He began walking around the camp, looking for his friends. He wasn't fully sure what the game plan was today, but would be ready for it regardless. He was looking forward to getting his prize money from their capture of the Northumberland, and if they took the Melpomene, it would be even more. He knew it would take some time, as it had to come from Welkin first, but he knew by the end of the year he'd be a little ahead on his pay.
He could see Ocean, who was sitting off under a tree, coughing a little before wiping his forehead with a rag. Poor ermine. It was never fun being sick, and Caden definitely felt sorry for him. He might go over and chat with him in a bit, but for now, he was looking for certain other beasts in particular.
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Post by spender on Jul 9, 2011 16:01:59 GMT -5
Spender flopped like a landed fish, limbs limp as he rolled over to cool off his front side. He sat up and scootched up against the tree, opposite Ocean. He was shirtless, and, once, for a brief moment a few days ago, pantless. That had not ended very well. So now he kept his trousers on. His fate loomed, and there was no escaping it: Death by trousers.
He always knew it would be so.
He dared not engage his brother in conversation—both their tongues had enough to deal with. Earlier Spender had loped down to the shores to drown his sorrows, and for half an hour or so he had been pleasantly cooled by the water. By the time he'd climbed back up the cliffs to camp, it was as if he'd never gone at all, but instead curled up in a ball in a pit of sand. His only solace was that he was not sick as well... yet.
With effort, he lifted a paw and waggled it, attempting to move some air around his face, before giving up and sliding sideways, away from the trunk, to land like a stiff board with his head denting the soft ground. He stuck his tongue out and sighed.
Next time he was staying on the ship.
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Post by Carrow on Jul 9, 2011 19:05:40 GMT -5
Selvis Frenata had made a decision. It was one he'd made at the beginning of the siege. He was going to spend less time around a certain mouse friend of his, not because he wanted to avoid Carrow for his own sake, but because he wanted to spend more time with his other companions. The weasel felt as though he had been ignoring them - Caden in particular - and had been taking steps to address this since he'd got back from the Orion, preferring to spread himself out.
He had been rather despondent in the aftermath of the relatively recent fleet battle he had taken part in, but had made quite an effort to pull himself out of it. The Selvis that now stepped out of his tent (just a little away from the others') was a markedly different creature than the one who had shipped out from Bastia back in May.
On one paw, he was back to his usual cheerful self. His worries had been exacerbated by events on the Orion, but they had all been put to rest at this stage. There was also the matter of the crippling self-doubt that had overwhelmed him; it had mostly passed, but every so often it would resurface. It wasn't bothering him anywhere near as much as it had done, though. Furthermore, he had waited until he was back on an even keel before writing home - which, luckily enough, had been just before they'd left Gibraltar.
On the other, though, his confidence had been completely destroyed and he was doing his best to build it up again. He had support from his companions, of course, but if somebeast had seen him now, they would have needed to be told how he was when he'd joined the crew of the Agamemnon. He was also spending more time alone - he'd realised, far too late (the cost being one emotional collapse and very nearly a second), that he needed a little more of it to get his thoughts in order. Every so often he would go off by himself because he now knew that he should always try to stay on top of things before they spiralled out of control.
The mustelid had used his dinnertime for such things, and wondered how long it would take his letter to get home from where he was now: not too long, he reckoned, as it had been sent more than a month ago at this stage. It was quite possible his parents were opening it at this very moment in fact - or had already done so. This thought comforted him immensely. He'd copied out the letter he'd written (having first asked Caden's assistance in composing it), and it was currently residing in his pocket, something he read over every now and then when he was feeling homesick.
He caught sight of Caden wandering around the campsite, and strolled over to him, his relaxed stance indicating he was in good form. "Good afternoon, mate!," he exclaimed, smiling. "Hope you're not too hot - back home we get plenty of days like this, particularly during July, and sometimes even hotter! I quite like that... just wish it wasn't so humid... that's contributing to things a little too much," he murmured, glancing at Ocean, and then Spender. The ermine was in need of company it seemed - and Spender in need of some relief. He was suffering, but there wasn't very much Selvis could do to help right now.
"Excited about the possibility of an assault, are you?," he enquired, eyes sparkling, his tail swaying slightly behind him. "I know I am! Put my name down as a volunteer first chance I got! If there is one, it'll be quite something to see, never mind take part in!," the mustelid said incredulously, scarcely able to believe his luck.
He was about to ask if his pine marten companion had seen Carrow, when the rodent in question emerged from his tent. Carrow had noticed Selvis spending more time with Ocean and Caden, and he reckoned it was good to see Selvis making such an effort with things. He hadn't liked to see his longtail friend depressed, and that had gone on for two weeks or so, so he was quite glad to see Selvis back to his old self.
The mouse had also had his dinner in there, but unfortuntely the mouse was slightly under the weather himself. He hadn't caught anything, though he knew there was a risk of catching malaria or even worse diseases, thanks to the conditions which had developed. He knew he had a weaker immune system than most, due to the poverty he'd grown up in, but found, to his relief, that it was a simple case of drowsiness. The field mouse had been putting everything into the work he needed to do, and while the payoff was rewarding, the exertion rebounded on creatures after the work had been done, and even though Carrow had become considerably stronger (at least, for a creature his size), sometimes his limbs were so stiff that he could hardly move about.
To counteract this, the mouse had started doing stretches; he had in fact done a few before leaving his tent, so that explained his delay. He jogged over to Caden and Selvis, his own copied letter resting in his pocket - along with the pocket watch he'd used in assisting Willard back on Gibraltar the previous month. Archie had been on his mind a lot as of late, but he knew she'd be getting his letter relatively soon, which would hopefully assure her that he was OK; no correspondence had been received by the weasel jill in five months.
He yawned slightly before speaking, shaking himself a little as he strove to return to full alertness, knowing they had a long day ahead of them, and it would be made even longer by the humidity. The heat had been relatively easy to become accustomed to; the humidity was another matter entirely. Selvis was much more capable of pawdling it. At the moment, though, the mouse didn't seem too bothered by things. "Hello there, mates! Good to see you're both still healthy. I... er, probably could have slept a bit more, so sorry if I'm a little tired today. It's not like it was before, though - things aren't keeping me awake anymore," he added in a softer tone of voice. "Caden, I notice you're looking rather chipper! I don't blame you. I feel good about today for some reason I'm yet to put my claw on," he admitted, smiling at the marten.
Both mouse and weasel had heard that there was a new arrival among their ranks. Neither rodent nor mustelid had met this creature yet, but both were quite eager to. Carrow could pawdle meeting new faces better than before, and Selvis's welcoming nature hadn't changed one jot despite what he had been through in recent weeks. Carrow was particularly excited - he'd heard that the new face was some kind of mustelid, apparently a stoat. Carrow liked stoats. He liked most creatures in fact, and was anticipating getting to know this newcomer.
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Post by warwick on Jul 9, 2011 19:53:11 GMT -5
Buttercup yellow and grass-green stripes. It was not the worst neck cloth in Warwick's collection, but it was certainly up there. The hideous garment fluttered in the gentle midday breeze around the stoat's neck as he dutifully checked the three guns that were his responsibility. Sponges, rammers, wadhooks all in order. The Army had commandeered the use of the Navy's cannon, but at least Warwick could make himself useful keeping them maintained.
"Quarter-Gunner. If you're finished with that vent-reamer?" A huffy looking red-coated weasel grumbled. Warwick absentmindedly held it out. The bigger mustelid tapped his footpaw.
"Lad, that's a packet of sweets."
"What? Oh, don't you want one?" Warwick looked at him, crestfallen. The paper bag shook in his paw and he squeaked and blinked. The weasel sighed and humoured the navy jack. He popped a boiled sweetie in his muzzle. Quick as a flash the paper bag disappeared into Warwick's waistcoat pocket. He handed over the instrument he had been using to clean the vent hole, and stood back. Everything seemed as it should be.
Warwick had been served his ration of grog just before noon and he was already missing it. He stuck out his tongue and tried to think of the coolest place he could possibly be. The sea? Well, that was all well and good except he was not a particularly strong swimmer. His father had taken him boating a few times on the river in some hope of rowing the tics out of his son. It had not worked out too well, to put it mildly.
Sniff. Blink. Squeak. Warwick turned away from the guns and wandered back down the slopes, trying not to catch any looks from curious soldiers. He hurried to the shade where a couple of sailors were taking refuge under a tree.
Sniff. Sniff. Awkward silence. Eyes turned at the noises Warwick was making. Although the garish neck cloth might have also something to do with it. They seemed roughly about his age.
"Um. Would you like a boiled sweet?" There was the paper bag again, proffered before them as if they were all country gentlemammals after playing a game of cricket. Certainly, his accent betrayed him not as your average working jack, but a stoat with a more wealthy upbringing. Not that his father had done him any favours in sending him off into the Navy. Faced with grizzled sailors and broad-chested marines as his new companions, Warwick had done the only thing a stoat of his bearing could do. He had been impeccably polite about it.
"Jolly hot day, eh? Splendid... sniff... cricketing weather," Warwick breezed, airily trying to pass off his sniffing tic as drawing in a breath of the fresh, humid air.
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Post by Ladorak on Jul 10, 2011 1:18:09 GMT -5
Caden greeted Selvis with a smile. "Ahhh here he is." He said. He still wasn't fully sure how the weasel was feeling, or conversely, how he felt about the situation. He was adapting to it, but he'd noticed the weasel's increased solitude as well.
"Hah... well in terms of being eager for an assault... yes." the marten confirmed. "If we can get our paws on that fort, we'll wrap this siege up rather quickly. I must say, I'm very glad for the Army's support. Things are getting done MUCH faster, despite the difficult conditions. It's amazing how far we've come already, in only about two weeks. The sooner we get this done, the better. I can't wait to get back on the ship." he confessed. "This bright sun... it's not good for my eyes... hence why I'm thankful for my hat." he pointed up to his top hat, but even then he had to squint a little in the bright sun.
It was then that Carrow arrived, and Caden greeted his friend with a nod. "Good to hear that you're in good health as well, all things considered. Yes, I've managed to dodge the bullet too, despite the mounting sick list. All the more reason to wrap this siege up as quickly as possible. I really have to commend General Stuart for helping us. He's MUCH better than either Dundas or D'Aubant. I hear that Stuart can be a little explosive in terms of temper, but he and Ladorak have been really hitting it off, and it's clear they respect each other a lot. Both consider the other good leaders... at least according to Ladorak." Caden said, smiling a bit at this. "Stuart is really giving it his all I think, and for all our sakes, I'll have to thank him at some point."
"So you feel good about today, eh?" Caden asked. "Oh! By the way, what do you fellows think of our old opponent being right down there in the harbor? Rather ironic huh? Of all the ships in the Rosferian Navy, we run into the one we battled last year." he chuckled at this now. "I find it... amazing. I hope we get her. It would be sweet revenge indeed, I must admit."
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Ocean coughed as the newcomer settled down next to them. He wiped his brow again, the rag coming off drenched in sweat. "Ohhhh." He moaned, feeling intensely hot, even under the tree. He desperately hoped this wasn't anything serious.
"I guess so." Ocean said, reaching out to take one of the proffered sweets. "So long as it doesn't make me feel any hotter." Last he'd checked, his fever was around 100. Coughing again, the ermine popped it into his mouth. "Cricket? I've never played that." he stated, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the tree. He was feeling faint again, though wasn't sure why. He began to suck on the candy in his mouth, taking in the sugar and hoping it would help, even slightly.
"Oh.. right... thank you... sir." he stated, addressing the young petty officer. "Forgot who you were for a moment there. I'm not really... feeling all that well. Came down with something a few days ago... so forgive me for my lapse there." He stated, holding the rag to his head again.
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Post by spender on Jul 10, 2011 1:57:07 GMT -5
Spender sat up slowly, bending from the middle. His head hung to the side as if he were being pulled by strings until, at the moment of maximum uprightness, it finally snapped up as well. He shuffled about, coming nearer to Ocean's side of the tree.
He eyed the bag, and wordlessly dipped his paw into it. Shuffle, shuffle. They all seemed the same size. He snatched two; a third one tumbled from his paw on its way out. He grunted in minor annoyance at this. Bringing his paw up to his mouth, he gave the candies a lick. Then he slurped one up into his mouth and swept his blue beret off his head, turning it upside-down on his lap.
It was like a secret candy shop. Here, half a lolly. There, a grasshopper in toffee-flavoured amber. Peppermints peppered the rim. Tucked away in the floppy folds were Spender's own invention: cheeseballs made from working shredded cheese into oatmeal or crackers, wadded up in whatever liquid was available at the time, rum or, more often, simply spit. To finish the ensemble were some mint leaves; unable to stick to the hat itself, they clung to whatever sticky candies they could. This had the added advantage of saving the candies from fur. Spender plucked a mint sprig and slipped it into his mouth, then gave his second boiled sweet a lick and pressed it firmly into place before putting the beret back on his head.
"Yer alright, Squeaks," he said. His voice was low, accented here and there by the influence of mean-street thugs, but mostly consisting of a farm-raised lad's easy country drawl. Anything unplaceable in his voice was a result of his parents being from the Vulpine Imperium. Spender had no doubt picked up some strange pronunciations from their dialect.
"I like crickets. If ye got any of those... I'll trade ya."
Spender had never played Cricket. He was more of a football lad. Not that he ever managed to play a game on a team without getting into a fight before the first goal could be scored, but he liked the ball, and he liked to not let others have it. If it were not so distressingly hot, he might have even brought out a ball of his own—a present given to him from Caden, during their last siege.
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Post by Carrow on Jul 10, 2011 8:45:04 GMT -5
Selvis wasn't avoiding anybeast when he went off by himself; in a way it was a sort of defense mechanism he'd known he could always have used but had never really needed to do so before. He liked company as much as ever, but was finding that he liked getting little time to himself every now and then. Caden did it, and so did Carrow, so it wasn't that unusual. As far as his own situation went, the longtail was simply dealing with it. There was nothing else he felt like doing as regarded it- at least, not anymore.
"Yes, we have indeed been making good progress," he told the pine marten. "Probably has more to do with the new commander than anybeast is willing to admit; at least it seems that way to me," he added with a small chuckle. "Seems much more capable than the others who have worked with us so far." The mustelid didn't miss much, and was usually as sharp as a tack, when he wasn't feeling homesick or depressed over anything.
Carrow listened to Caden's comments on General Stuart and felt compelled to speak up. "Yeah, you and the rest of us, matey!," he replied, smiling. "Both from what I've seen and heard, he and Ladorak are making a great team, and that's refreshing, because last time out I heard there was a little friction between our Captain and... wossname, D'Aubant? Or something. I'm not good with names, almost as a rule," he admitted, yet unable to hide a smile.
He was just as powerless to keep the smile from widening and becoming a grin when he was reminded of the Melpomene's presence in Calvi's harbour. Neither Carrow nor Selvis had quite been able to believe it when they had arrived here and spotted their old enemy nearby. The rodent had in fact been so surprised that he had executed a slightly exaggerated double-take at the sight of the Rosferian frigate.
"The irony is brilliant, yes," he responded, his eyes sparkling. "I must say that I'm quite fond of the idea of that particular vessel falling into our paws. Way I understand it, we capture Calvi, we take the... what was it? Ah yes, the Melpomene, that's it! That'd be quite something. Not sure she'd be much use in her current condition, but well, if we capture her, I'm sure such a thing can be dealt with.
"I'm feeling quite good about things at the moment, yes," he confirmed, smiling at Caden. "Slightly confident about things, too - and we'd get quite a prize if we pulled this off! Having said that, though, I really wish it wasn't so humid because I'm having a little trouble pawdling that at times, but on the whole I can't really complain. I've got a clean bill of health, and I've been doing a lot of work over the last few weeks, but the best thing is enither of you have come down with anything either!," he told his companions.
"True, true," Selvis responded, "the only sickness I'm suffering from at the moment is a mild dose of homesickness, but that's not worrying me too much." This comment received a nod from his mouse companion; Carrow felt pretty much exactly the same way. "I'm rather looking forward to getting back on the ship when all this is done, all the same."
Carrow looked slightly downcast for a moment before brightening up. "I haven't seen Tally very much these last couple of weeks either - I know she came with us, but I've been so busy I've barely been able to make time for her. I'm in the same boat as you two, then, in a manner of speaking: we'll be able to catch up with things once we're both back on the Agamemnon - though I'll be keeping a lookout for her all the same." He sighed a little; the mice had grown even closer in recent weeks, and Carrow was seeing far less of her than he was happy with.
Selvis snapped his claws. "Ah, speaking of catching up, I'm going to go over and have a word with Ocean - he looks really unsettled. Not sure I can help with that, but I can provide some extra company for a bit; he looks desperate for it, at least from here. So I'll see you two in a few minutes, alright?"
Carrow nodded. He had spotted the new stoat approaching Spender and Ocean, but didn't want to leave Caden's side for now. He wasn't happy with seeing the pine marten left alone, no matter how much he wanted to meet this new creature or speak to Ocean. They could take turns, he reasoned. "That's fine, Selvis. Let us know how he is." After Selvis had gone, he turned to his marten friend. "Heheh, I must say, I'm quite looking forward to receiving the prize money from our victory over the Northumberland - and then spending some of it. I have a few ideas - and Archie's birthday is in a little less than a month: the sixteenth of August," he revealed to his companion.
The Ferlusanian longtail, meanwhile, made a beeline for Ocean, looking forward to seeing him despite being well aware of his current condition. He sat down against the tree trunk, close to the ermine, and spoke softly to him. Hello there, Ocean. I know you're ill at the moment, but I figured you'd appreciate some company, so I've come over here for a bit. I'm sure Caden and Carrow will be with you in due course, but it'll be one at a time I think. We don't want to crowd you, after all," he said sympathetically.
Just then, the weasel spotted a new face. Aha, so the rumours WERE true! That was a stoat if he'd ever seen one. "Hello!," he called gently, waving to him and smiling. "Don't think I've seen you before, so I think some introductions would be in order," he said cheerfully, getting up and offering his fellow mustelid his paw. "The name's Selvis Frenata. I'm from Crittenden, in Ferlusan. I know what you're thinking now: 'what is a Ferlusanian doing fighting in WELKIN's Navy? It's kind of a funny story," he admitted, chuckling slightly. "Pleased to meet you," he said, voice softening a little as his blue eyes regarded the stoat, keeping an ear out so he could hear Ocean's response, if one was indeed forthcoming.
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Post by warwick on Jul 10, 2011 18:46:35 GMT -5
"I thought you looked... squeak... a trifle disconcerted," Warwick answered, "'Fraid I'm no physician." He smiled innocently at Spender. Squeaks! He had never had a nickname before. Well, not a proper one anyway.
"Crickets? You're awfully funny, er..." Warwick faltered. Of course, there had been no introductions! He stuck out a paw to shake. Then he noticed the ferret's blue beret. He slowly drew back his paw to fiddle absentmindedly with his yellow and green striped neckcloth. He sniffed in bemused concern at his new friend's method of storing sweets.
Warwick got up for the weasel that approached him. Oh, how his father would loathe that. A son of his bloodline standing up for a Ferlusanian weasel? The Old Stoat would have a fit. This made it all the more enjoyable for Warwick to introduce himself.
"A pleasant day to you, Selvis! May I call you Selvis? My name is Warwick. Petty Officer Warwick Norwich. It’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it? Delighted to... sniff... squeak..." Warwick blinked. Oh dear. He had been doing so well up to that point.
“Sniff… ah, meet your acquaintance. I’m afraid I’ve yet to… squeak… be introduced to these jacks. I think I caught the poorly fellow’s name though. Ocean, is it? Thank goodness you chose a naval career. Heh…” Warwick blinked and awkwardly held out his paper bag to the weasel.
“Boiled sweet? It’d be a shame if you missed out.” The stoat grinned and nodded to the mustelids that had already relieved him of a few of the candies. Somehow, Warwick had not yet managed to find any mammal in the Navy or out of it that had outright rejected him.
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Post by Ladorak on Jul 11, 2011 0:13:13 GMT -5
"Well, I'd say her condition isn't actually that bad." Caden stated, still smiling. "See, they had plenty of time to repair her here, and probably did so. We'll be picking up a good prize all the same. Rosferian frigates always seem more heavily armed and better built than Welkinite ones, not to put down our own side of course." he stated, shaking his head.
"Hahah!" he laughed at the mouse's eagerness to be getting a gift for his guardian for her upcoming Birthday. "Well that's rather nice of you, but I doubt we'll be getting our prize money quite SO soon. It still has to be condemned by the prize court, and then determined how it's going to be divided up, and THEN shipped out to us from Welkin. I'd say more like December or January when we'd start seeing that. But at least you know you'll get a little extra for the end of the year." he said with a wink.
"Oh... but I do hope my present that you got me didn't put you back. You said you basically used all your savings, and it hasn't been that long since then, so hopefully you've accumulated enough to get her something, and I guess if not, it would be my duty to chip in, now that I'm making much more than I used to." he stated. "I'd be more than happy to help, as a way of repaying you for what you got me earlier." he was starting to walk forward now, and waved to Selvis as the weasel departed to speak with Ocean.
Caden wanted to see if the ermine was alright, but Spender was over there, and he was in no hurry to be anywhere close to the ferret. He was heading through the camp, doing his best to shield his eyes, and placing a paw above them to be safe. "I actually wanted to ask you a few things too. First... want to go see what Ladorak's up to?" he asked, shoving his free paw into his pocket. "And second... what sort of weapon will you be taking with you for the assault? I'm not sure someone of your build could pawdle a musket... no offense intended." he stated, smiling over at the rodent. "So probably a pistol for distance... but what sort of melee weapon will you be taking? We've got a lot from the ship to choose from, after all."
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Ocean wiped his brow again, and coughed before answering. "Actually, sir... I hate the water, though you wouldn't have known that judging from my name, of course. But yes... it's Ocean... Ocean Sleet." he said, giving his full name. "I guess I'm aptly named, and if not aptly named then I at least like the sound of my name. It reminds me of snow on the water... and since I can't ever change into my stoat pelt... I guess it's appropriate." he explained to Warwick.
He suddenly felt very strange, and INCREDIBLY hot. It was if someone had lit his head on fire, which was a very unsettling thought. "Uh...uh..." he groaned, raising the rag back to his head. "Uhhhhh." he thought he saw someone approaching him, and he initially recoiled against the tree as it looked like a blazing pillar of fire, heading straight for all of them. "Agh!" he cried out, throwing his paws out in front of him until the "fire" materialized into Selvis.
Panting a little, Ocean blinked a few times. "Huh? Selvis?" he asked, seeing the weasel sit down next to him now. "What the heck is wrong with me?" he mumbled. "I thought for some reason you were like... a blazing fire... heading right for me. Blasted fever... must be higher than I thought." he stated. "Maybe I should try and go swimming or something. Try to cool down... if I could get over my fear of the water, that is." his stomach started to gurgle, and his paw immediately went to his lower right side. "Owwww." he groaned. "Well... abdominal pain... that's new." he grumbled. "Well... I guess that's fine. I'm not sure I'll feel crowded... though this tree can only have so many around it." he said, laughing a little, and then holding his side again in pain. "Ow... anyway... thanks." It was a good thing that in this time period there were no concept of germs or bacteria or viruses. Being near a sick person was not considered a harmful thing, as diseases were still attributed to bad vapors in the air, or other such nonsense as that.
As it was, what Ocean had wasn't very communicable, so the chances of Selvis or Warwick or Spender catching it were slim, unless of course they did the same thing he had done to get it in the first place (unknowingly of course).
"So... what's new with you?" he asked in a low voice before coughing again.
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Post by Carrow on Jul 11, 2011 14:12:10 GMT -5
"Ah yes, it's been... what, nine months? Almost nine months," Carrow corrected himself, smiling a little. "Nine months since we beat her in our firt battle. I suppose you could say it stands to reason that the Rosferians would have repaired her in the interim. We'll find out, of course," he murmured, agreeing with Caden's notion that the Melpomene would be a good prize.
He listened to the pine marten as he told him how long a wait he would face before being given his prize money. "January of next year?!," he almost squeaked, eyes widening, before his whiskers drooped and he sighed. "Ah... didn't know that... sorry," he responded, blushing. This was just like the time he'd learned that Ladorak couldn't plot the course of the ship. He knew he probably wouldn't be seeing Archie this year either, and was now reminded of that.
The mouse was slightly disappointed by the way things were going but wasn't about to give up hope. It was just as well he'd only mentioned the possibility of getting a present for Archie in the letter he'd sent off, rather than promised her one. Carrow hated making promises he ended up being unable to keep, either through his own fault or because of circumstances.
"Yeah, I guess I have that to look forward to," he said softly, a little saddened by this news. "The truth is I'm not sure how much I have... haven't taken stock of it lately. I really appreciate you offering to help, though," he told his marten friend, brightening up a little. "Maybe it might not have to come to that, but if it does, I'd like you to give me a paw picking something out for her, since you'd be putting some money towards it in that case," he offered.
Caden had a proposal to make as well, and Carrow brightened up further still as he listened to the mustelid speak. "Do I want to go see Ladorak?," he repeated, and it was his turn to laugh now. "Of course! I love getting the opportunity to see him," he told his companion, his disappointment from earlier forgotten as he picked up the pace slightly, energised by the thought of meeting the stoat Captain.
He shook his head as Caden told him he thought the mouse wouldn't be able to pawdle a musket. "No offence taken, mate - even I know I'd really struggle with a weapon even remotely like that," he responded with a smile. A pistol will suit me just fine... even though I've never used any of these things before," he admitted. The rodent wasn't one for using weapons of any kind, and couldn't really imagine himself with a pistol in his paw. "As for a melee weapon... well, let me see. I'm not sure what we have with us, but if there's a short staff there, I'd quite like to use it," he told Caden. "I figure since I have to use something, it may as well be something I won't have too much trouble with," the mouse added with a chuckle.
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"Thank you, Warwick... er, I mean, Petty Officer Norwich!," Selvis corrected himself, smiling a little. "Didn't know you were a Petty Officer, see - that's new. Warwick Norwich, though - it's strange that you yourself should think that's a bit of a mouhtful, but I'm going to stick to calling you either Warwick or 'sir'. It's a tad easier that way," he told the stoat, his eyes sparkling.
"And yes, you may call me Selvis," he added. "Most do. I don't have a nickname or anything." The longtail had of course noticed the sniffing and squeaking that the older mustelid was doing every now and then, but, since he was very polite, declined to comment on it in any sort of way. He knew creatures could be very sensitive about those kids of things after all, and didn't want to bring it up. It was perfectly tolerable - but then again Selvis was a rather accommodating weasel. He seemed a little unsure of himself, but that was alright. If he needed assistance with any of that, Selvis would of course be glad to help.
The weasel grinned straight back at Warwick when the stoat offered him a boild sweet. He dipped his paw into the bag and took one, his tail swaying in a rather contented manner. "Ooh, of course! Thank you!," he exclaimed, popping it into his mouth and starting to suck on it. "I like you already, heheh," he quipped, chuckling. Selvis was always eager to make new friends, and seemed to have found one in Warwick.
"You don't seem to have come down with anything, that's good," he murmured, patting Warwick's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Want to talk to us for a while?," he suggested. "Later on, you can meet two of my other friends - I reckon you'll like them."Now that he was back to his usual warm and welcoming self, the weasel was ready to talk to absolutely anybeast who would listen. He'd noticed that Warwick appeared to have something in common with Carrow, but he'd let the mouse figure that out for himself when introductions were made later.
"At any rate, I'll let the other two mustelids here make their own introductions," he said with a smile before sitting back down next to Ocean, shaking his head sympathetically as the ermine described how he'd seen Selvis. "Oh dear... sorry to hear that, Ocean. You just take it easy for now, alright?," he suggested, offering the ermine a warm smile. He'd noticed that Ocean's voice sounded a little strained; that meant he probably had a sore throat as well.
"Anything new with me? Well, I'm still kind of trying to figure out my place here," he admitted, sighing a little. "I had a few weeks there where I was really wondering about what purpose I served, but I'm feeling better about that now. Trying to spend time with as many different creatures as I can, see. It's great to see you again, even if you're not in the best of health, but don't worry. I'm sure it'll pass soon," he said soothingly, trying to keep Ocean's spirits up.
The weasel had an idea then: there was something with him that he could show the ermine and try to keep his mind off his situation for a few moments. "I have something with me here that I could show you if you like. It's the letter I sent home to my parents a few weeks back. Well, not the actual letter, 's that's probably with them by now," he said, whiskers twitching happily, "but one I copied out before we left Gibraltar. D'you want to have a look?," he asked, hoping his cheerfulness would rub off on Ocean, even a little.
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