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Post by ninjasquirrel1 on Nov 15, 2012 21:04:15 GMT -5
OOC>Well, here goes.
The wind blew heavily over the bluish green waters of the Mediterranean sea. Foamy waves reached up from the sea to knock the white life boat from side to side as it's passenger desperately hung to life by a thread as thin as the tattered cloth covering the tiny life boat. The creature was a ferret, his dark fur just starting to change to white. The only covering he had were makeshift clothes out of some unfortunate potato sack whose fate we will not divulge in the order that respect for the fallen be maintained. His face appeared rusted over as dried blood from a reopened scar that stretched from his right forehead to his snout and passed over his eye, though this time it appeared his eye was not so fortunate; it lay cut. Diseased, blood and puss flowed openly from it. Salt water seeped into his wound, burning like hell fire; the lifeboat was in the beginning stages of sinking as water continued to seep in through a small hole. Unconscious and dying, the ferret swam in a sea of memories in his mind. The twenty six years of his life flashing by in streaks of light, each seeming to originate from two creatures. One stood proud and commanding, a stoat; the other was female, albino and beautiful as the rising moon. And then a huge rat with a dead white eye and a crooked tooth whips the two creatures into the blackness with a wicked cat o' nine tails, laughing as he went. He would then turn and point his coiled whip at the ferret and mock him.
"I took everything from you!"
The rat stood in the growing darkness, his laughter echoing throughout the ferret's mind, driving him to the brink of madness. Even after the rat had been completely consumed by the darkness, his laughter still echoed faintly. . .
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Post by Ladorak on Nov 15, 2012 23:25:08 GMT -5
The Agamemnon, and indeed, the entire Welkinite Mediterranean Fleet was cruising the Ligurian Sea, FINALLY having gotten rid of that pesky Admiral William Hotham. He'd been relieved in favor of John Jervis, though Admiral Jervis had yet to reach his post. He was sailing from Welkin, and would be here by the end of the month. Admiral Hyde Parker, the temporary commander of the fleet, had taken the ships to sea on a bit of a patrol before he planned to head down to Personza where they'd meet up with Admiral Jervis.
Parker was hardly better than Hotham in Ladorak Fugate's mind, but it mattered not to him. Soon, they'd be getting a real admiral, one that the stoat could respect deeply and be happy to follow the orders of.
Large three deckers mixed with the two deckers as they glided over the waters of the Med. Ladorak Fugate was a different stoat in some ways than Sieg would've last remembered him. The Siege of Calvi had not been kind to the mustelid, as he'd been hit in the chest and face by flying debris which had damaged his right eye to the point of losing sight in it. There was no physical scar upon it oddly enough, and it looked perfectly fine, but Ladorak was only able to discern light and dark out of his right eye, and not actual shapes and only very vague colors.
The only indication he was blind in his right eye was the golden monocle that sat upon the stoat's left eye. Ladorak no longer wore his pince nez spectacles to any large extent, though would sometimes don them if he felt a need to in order to keep up appearances. By and large, the stoat stuck with his monocle, as he'd gotten quite used to it over the past year now.
The stoat was molting, starting to shed his brown coat, and it was now a very faded dull brown, with peppery spots of white trailing down the backside. Winter was coming, and he'd soon be sporting his ermine coat for the colder months.
As the fleet began to bump Sieg's boat out of the way, the alert Welkinite crews began to take note that the ferret inside was in fact not dead, and cries began to spread throughout.
By the time the Agamemnon bumped by Sieg's boat, the crew were ready. The albino pine marten Midshipjack Caden Fugate was looking down at the boat and getting ready to snag it. "Prepare to secure the boat to the aft davits!" He ordered some of the crew. He stood, hanging precariously from the ship's fore chains, and then quickly clambered over the gunwale and raced aft, beginning to climb down the ladder on Agamemnon's starboard side.
"Jal Sleet! Give me a paw here!" he ordered Ocean Sleet, the ermine who never molted into his summer coat. The white furred mustelid nodded, and darted down the ladder, being careful not to kick Caden's head as he moved.
Caden reached out and caught the boat as it drifted by. "Whoa!" He nearly fell in, but Ocean steadied him, and the albino's arms were about the wounded occupant now. "Hold on there buddy! I hope you speak Common!" he grunted, hefting Sieg up to Ocean. "Jal Sleet... you got that rope?" he asked, and Ocean nodded.
They fixed the rope to Sieg's waist, and the ferret was hauled aboard, pulled through the entry port and held upright by Caden and Ocean. Captain Fugate strode out into daylight now, his boots thudding on the wood of the weather deck as he hurriedly approached the newcomer.
"Get him to the sick berth immediately! Kasal can treat him!" Ladorak ordered. Their surgeon had been in a very good mood as of late... he'd recently regained the use of his bad leg in fact. That had put him in an unusually helpful spirit. Some new treatment or something was keeping him cane free for now but...
Ladorak gasped as his eyes widened and his heart raced. "Wait! Belay!" he commanded, holding out a paw. "Siegfried?" he asked in disbelief. "Siegfried Ronshausen?"
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Post by ninjasquirrel1 on Nov 16, 2012 13:27:31 GMT -5
Siegfried felt sick to his stomach as he was tossed to and fro by invisible waves as he constantly fell through the darkness in his mind; the pain on his face too intense for him to even notice the strange sensation of free falling. His face exploded in more pain, if that was possible, as some invisible force stopped his fast decent and hoisted him out of the pummeling waves and onto a solid surface. He desperately tried to fight back at the unseen force but was too weak to even groan let alone raise a paw in defense. Rage bellowed inside of him as another set of paws dared to grab him; but was suddenly tempered as a familiar voice echoed throughout his ears, issuing orders, and when the voice addressed him he knew whose it was. Sensing a paw nearby the ferret mustered all of his strength and shattered the darkness.
"Reporting . . . for duty . . . sir." Managed Sieg as he gripped his commanding officer's paw and nearly crushed it with his new found strength. It was quite a feat to be able to recognize Siegfried in his current state because not only was his face covered in caked blood but he had grown slightly and taken on a powerful form. The hard trials of being a slave had shaped him not only mentally, but physically. His once skinny frame and dexterious nature had been replaced by thickness and large sinewy muscles that only came with hard labor. Indeed, both the ferret and the stoat had changed considerably since they had last spoken.
Siegfried's head slumped forward, limp and unable to answer Ladorak's questions. He had succumbed to the darkness.
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Post by ninjasquirrel1 on Nov 16, 2012 13:30:51 GMT -5
OOC>Really enjoying this so far.
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Post by Ladorak on Nov 16, 2012 14:44:07 GMT -5
((It's good to be writing on here again, yes.))
Ladorak wasn't exactly a slouch, either. His form had not diminished over the years, and he still regularly worked out every morning he had to work the starboard watch. His paw held up fairly well, though the stoat was highly impressed by the strength in Siegfried's grip.
There had been answer to his question, only indication that he was now reporting for duty. It was clear from the disheveled and beaten appearance of the ferret that he needed his wounds dressed and treated first before the Captain would consider him fit for duty.
"I can't believe it... I never thought I'd see you again." he commented slowly, looking the ferret over. It had been Welkin when he'd last seen this particular mustelid. Four long years ago... it seemed like a lifetime now. So much had happened since then... yet not much had changed in some ways.
Ladorak and his crew had not been back to Welkin since they'd first left three years ago. They'd been all over the western Mediterranean, but had not had a chance to return home as the war still raged on the continent. "Go summon the surgeon." Ladorak ordered a nearby Master's mate. The lad nodded, saluted, and headed down below to the sick berth.
"What are you doing out here?" Ladorak inquired now. "You're a long way from where I last saw you in Welkin... but then again, you WERE planning on traveling, if I recall." He clasped his paws behind his back and adopted a composed look now. Admiral Parker would probably be requesting a report, but that could wait until after Sieg was settled.
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Post by ninjasquirrel1 on Nov 16, 2012 17:12:44 GMT -5
OOC>OK, so Sieg pretty much falls unconscious immediately so it's your turn again.
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Post by Ladorak on Nov 16, 2012 17:32:18 GMT -5
((This is probably my last post until Sunday, as I have guests over for the weekend.))
As it stood, it didn't seem as if the ferret was in much shape for talking, or standing for that matter. He appeared to sag in the grasp of Ocean and Caden, and Ladorak's ward gave a worried look over in the molting stoat's direction.
Ladorak was surprised, his brows raising, but he could do nothing further at the moment. It was then that their pine marten surgeon, Gregory Kasal, arrived on the weather deck, jogging up the stairs and heading aft right for them.
"Well hey there, Captain Fugate!" Kasal called, giving him what looked like a smile, but with Kasal, they were never truly full on smiles. It was amazing how well Kasal could move. Ladorak simply wasn't used to seeing him without a cane.
"We picked this ferret up in a boat that drifted through the fleet, Surgeon Kasal. If you could please get him down to the sick berth and tend to his wounds, I'd be most grateful." Ladorak told the marten.
"Hm... lacerations and a rather nasty looking wound to the eye." Kasal murmured with just a few glances over the unconscious mustelid. "Right! Hardly an interesting case, but a surgeon's work is never done, eh?" he asked, raising his brows. "You, you, you!" he pointed at three of the gathered crew members. "Get him below. I'll go on ahead and prepare." Kasal instructed the crew swiftly. Sieg was lucky, as he'd get to experience the surgeon in one of his astronomically rare good moods.
"Let me know when he awakens. I'm going back to my duties in my cabin." Ladorak told Kasal, and turned to head back to his quarters, his mind whirling with about a hundred different thoughts.
Caden moved to catch up with his guardian, wanting to ask him a few quick questions about Siegfried. He barely remembered the ferret after all, so running into him again after all these years was... beyond coincidental in the albino's eyes.
Sieg was brought below, and stretched out in one of the numerous hammocks hanging from the ceiling of the sick berth, down on the upper gun deck. It was situated right at the bow, just behind the ship's heads, making it one of the least comfortable places on board.
Kasal was busy soaking a wet cloth, and he proceed to run it over the ferret's face in order to clean the blood out of his wounds and prepare to properly dress them. Wiping away the crusted red splotches, the pine marten surgeon proceeded to expertly dress the injuries and perform a quick physical examination. After ensuring that most everything he could do was in order, the marten went back to his desk in the midst of the sick berth and continued going about his business, though occasionally checking to see if the ferret stirred.
Orderlies shuffled all about, and the moans from the patients collected about the room to form a sort of unearthly chorus. Kasal was working a fuller schedule now, as he usually avoided this place like the plague, and worked instead down in the dispensary on the orlop deck, rather close to his cabin. But here he was, up and about and helping as often as could. It seemed his mood had improved with the lack of pain in his leg.
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Post by ninjasquirrel1 on Nov 16, 2012 23:05:37 GMT -5
OOC> He would've been out for a day or so and then probably wakened in some hammock in the sick bay.
Dreams and nightmares slashed through Sieg's mind like the colors that dashed a field in the spring. One nightmare in particular seemed to last a life time. It was an actual memory of Sieg's during his unfortunate four years as a slave. He had been assigned many pointless tasks meant only to torture and condition creatures to follow commands. For this particular one, the large rat with the dead eye and whip had him pushing huge logs up a steep hill. Whenever he would stop or stutter he would be whipped until he continued. When he reached the top the rat would kick the log back down the hill and mock Sieg, ordering him to push it up again; and he could do nothing to resist under the careful gaze of the nearby archers. For hours he would be tortured, and when finally given the chance to rest he would be whipped to wakefulness as soon as the welcome escape of sleep presented itself. He could feel the horrible sting of the whip as it came down again and again across his face and eye, eventually, he could take no more and rose with a rageful scream and punched the rat which in turn unraveled the tight fabric of his dreams.
Siegfried sat straight up with alarm as he suddenly realized that his mind had taken control of him; and he had succumbed. He wiped the beads of sweat from his brow and then grasped his face as he realized that the pain had not passed with his dreams. A glint of a nearby mirror caught his attention and he struggled to catch a glimpse of himself. The entire left side of his head was wrapped in bandages; the temptation to tear at the bandages tugged on him, but he thought better of it and decided to lean back in his hammock and take stock of the situation. It seemed to be some sort of sick bay on board a ship, which was obviously at sea as the familiar rock of the hammocks and deck made Sieg feel at home. Panic began to subside as thirst took it's place and he managed to rasp out.
"Water . . . please. Somebeast give me water."
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Post by Ladorak on Nov 18, 2012 13:38:57 GMT -5
Kasal perked his head up from the desk. He pushed back his chair, stood, and walked over to a water cask, dipping a tin cup in and bringing it up with clear, cool rainwater that had been collected over the previous week.
Walking over to the thirsty ferret, the marten surgeon held the cup out for him now. "Here you are. You're awake. How's the pain?" Kasal asked. "And before you ask, you're aboard the HMS Agamemnon, 64 guns, under the command of Captain Ladorak Fugate."
Kasal would've said more, but even with the pain in his leg gone, he wasn't a terribly social creature. He was going to leave it up to Sieg to lead this conversation... if indeed there was going to be a conversation. Ladorak had told him to treat this patient well... he was apparently an old friend of the Captain's.
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Post by ninjasquirrel1 on Nov 18, 2012 14:52:03 GMT -5
Sieg sat up and gratefully partook of the water and almost spat it out as the surgeon explained where he was.
"Ladorak? Fugate?" His old Captain in the Imperium, and friend. It was the very same stoat that Sieg had left the Imperium to serve at his side as he had vowed to do. It had been four long years since he had seen him last. They had both come home to Luna and Jayd after a short time at sea for shore leave and that was when Sieg had been taken by the slavers. When he escaped finally and drifted off to sea in a broken lifeboat, it was his only choice, he figured he would die a slow and painful death amid the sea. It would have been a lovely death to be honest; to die while being bobbed about by the waves on the sea he loved so much. Conditioned to ignore pain, he really didn't even notice the pain. Pain is always a passing thing; relief always coming in the form of either healing or death.
"The pain is not bad," he lied; sort of. The pain was horrible, but as previously stated; Sieg did not care. Also, the pain did nothing to improve upon his already unsociable nature (the four years had changed him considerably), he really had nothing to say. He was surprised; definitely. But he was merely thankful for his stroke of good luck and left it at that.
Throwing his legs over the side of the hammock, Sieg stood up on the almost solid deck. He hid his pain well and merely looked at the surgeon with his one good eye and asked when the bandages could be removed.
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