Luminar Voyage! (Ashstripe, Long Patrol!)

[Sigurd]

OOC: They're on Salamandstron's shore right now!

Sigurd bore his normal gear. And that wasn't much. Unstrapping his longbow, he selected a long hollow arrow, and fired it into the sky.


Woosh!

The arrow made a high-pitched piering nose. Three kilometers from the shore, a medium sized, flat bottomed boat moved inland. "Oi, you mateys 'ear dat? The Ranger must be ready!", a deep, gruff voice called out. "Get your arses rowing, mates!"

Back on shore, the Ranger simply waited.

[Ashstripe]

It was only the early hours of the day and Ashstripe was surprised that he had awoken with the amount of energy that he had - let alone awoken at all. After all, the Badger wasn't getting younger and his days started later and later, his morning physical punishments gradually grew into early afternoon exercises and his training ad gotten lax.

'Not enough fighting, I'll get fat.' He mused as he felt his stomach unconsciously, underneath the fur his skin was a little looser than he remembered, he could still feel his muscle but it wasn't as taut as he once boasted in his earlier days.

Ashstripe winced.

'Can feel the pork already.

The Badger was wrapped in a simple garb, his standard navy blue tunic wrapped with a red sash at the waist to hold it in check, the cords at his collar dangled helplessly at his chest as he inhaled and exhaled the cool morning air. On his back was his Great-sword, a monster of a weapon that stood as tall as he did, wrapped in a leather scabbard and kept in check by a strap wrapped diagonally around his torso like a brown snake.

On top of it all, was a forest green cloak, a tattered and worn old thing that was as probably as old as the Mountain Lord himself, but he prided himself on simplicity and a Spartan lifestyle - even if he was Lord of Salamandastron.

His eyes followed the motions of the brazen Fox as the Ranger fired the strange projectile into the air, the whistling seeming to cry on forever like some poor creature was pierced.

And then the ship came into view.

Ashstripe was impressed, he gave a nod of assertion and no more than that, he was still sceptical about the whole thing, but a possibility to find his kin was something too great to pass.

But it still merited a Company of Long Patrol Hares.




Sergeant 'Sarge' shaded his old eyes as he gazed out over the horizon, his ears were much sharper and heard the arrow before he even saw it complete it's arc in the sky. He could hear voices upon the vessel, barking orders in a manner not unlike the Vermin pirates he had encountered in past battles, his paw reached for his sabre as he unknowingly poised himself to strike.

"At ease Sergeant." The voice came from his left, that smooth bass growl came from no hare.

"Apologies sirrah, better to err on the side of caution eh?" He muttered in response, to say Sarge didn't quite trust their new companion was an understatement - which was why he insisted that the sixth company be sent along.

That and it would merit an Officer higher ranked than he was - ergo, less responsibility.

[Sigurd]

"Don't expect a formal welcome, Splinterpaw!", The Ranger barked. No sooner had he spoken than a gruff voice called out, "Damn, Ranger! Yah brought us a freaking stripedog!", A long board slid off the ship, and a large fat shrew stepped out. He had a badly shaven beard, as though it was cut by a hunting knife while drunk. "Pleased ta'h meet ya' Hignie'ness!", the fat shrew called out. "Name's Cap'n Chief'y! This is my boat, the Winged Lily! Like her, ya Highnie'ness?" A groan was heard from the Ranger. Most beasts at Luminar were frightened of Rangers, but Chief'y and his crew were immigrants. A batch of merchants who sailed to Luminar for some good pickings.

"Well, let's get you 'board, Splinterpaw", Sigurd sighed, walking up the boarding plank. "We can only fit a score of hares, actually minus five, if you bring that", he motioned towards Ashstripe's sword, "if they carry short blades. No room for spears or long swords."

[Ashstripe]

Ashstripe clenched his jaw tightly, a frown creasing his features deeply - he certainly wasn't expecting this.

"I expect no such thing, Ranger." He said flatly,

"You heard him Sergeant, see it through." He ground out, "Twenty hares. Dismiss the Company and reduce it to two squads." He spoke as if Sarge was clueless about Long Patrol protocol, despite the hare being his senior by a fair margin of seasons.

The dark furred hair simply wrinkled his nose with a wry grin and belted out the orders as professionally as he was able, they had a reputation to live up to and he'd be damned if these drunkard sailors would see it tarnished.

"Righto! Y'heard him gents and gel's! Lay down yore weapons, 1st and 2nd Squad, yore up wot wot! Everyone else march off home for some R'n'R eh? Lets get it done gels!" He stood fast with his paws behind his back, his voice growling on the sea winds and over the ears of the hundred hares currently assembled.

There was a clatter of metal and a chorus of groans and cheers as the hares exchanged weapons and gave brisk farewells, some disappointed in the fact that they were going home and vice versa, but the orders were carried out efficiently, within a matter of minutes the numbers were reduced to twenty with the cut-offs walking on the horizon of the dunes.

Ashstripe scrutinised the ship closely, he would never claim to be a sailor but it looked sturdy enough a vessel - at least he had faith that it would take them to where ever they were going. If the condition of the Captain was any indicator of the condition of the ship, the Badger felt he would soon be rediscovering how to swim.

"A finer vessel I have yet to see, Captain." The Badger smiled, an expression that was limited to his lips, it was true though, he had only seen small fishing vessels and corsairs from a distance in his life-time. To see anything that could carry more than two beasts was something of an experience in itself.

"Let's get it done then Sigurd, while the day is young." He grunted as he boarded the vessel.

[Sigurd]

Cap'n Chiefy smiled at Ashstripe, "Thank yar, Stripedog! Truly thank yar." But the Winged Lily was no fine vessel. Its railings were small, floorboards creaking, sacks and crates littered the floor. On the vessel, there was twenty shrews. At least eight of them we Chiefy's family. There was his wife, Glida, an old graying shrew-wife, wearing a plain brown dress. There were his three daughters, Gluda, Glada, and Gleda, ages fifteen, thirteen and ten, in the same order. They were dresses similar to their mother's. There was a fat, young shrew who deeply resembled Chiefy, without the beard. He was about nineteen and was called Burtle. There was Chiefy's brother, Matede', also his first mate, and his wife, Ma'ni. Them and their daughter, Me'ni, only eight. The rest were his crew. Everyone, except Chiefy's wife, sister-in-law, niece, and daughters, everyone wore a brown tunic, no matter what sex. Many shrews wore brass earrings, or bandannas, but no shrew wore a hat. That was besides, well, Chiefy. The captain wore a large floppy hat, covering his eyes, easily. "So.... would yar like me to show yar to yar rarms?", he asked.
"Get her out o' 'ear!", Matede' called to the steer-shrew.

Sigurd sighed. Finally.

[Ashstripe]

Ashstripe creaked up the old plank and bemused himself with what could potentially be his new home for a while yet. This wasn't a vessel built for Badgers, he could establish that quite quickly - but then again, Badgers were not renowned for their sea-faring skills or affinity with water.

In his case it was quite the opposite, he didn't like the idea of floating above the ocean upon which he had no control over. After all, if he were meant to swim, he would've been given a rudder.

"Yes. That would be adequate." He said with a slight nod, eyes ever-watchful of the floor he stood on. It was one thing to look at the ship, but it was another to stand on it and feel the waves caress the ship was another matter entirely.

"Sarge, with me. Everyone else, get comfortable." He said with almost complete disregard to his soldiers, a contrast to the barking tones of his officers.

The hares chorused words of acknowledgement and saluted enthusiastically, the majority were excited and pleased with the prospect of a new adventure and honoured that they were the small number whom would accompany their Lord.

Even if it meant mingling with these Shrews on a rather crowded ship for a while.

[Sigurd]

Chiefy led them beneath the deck. As they walked down the hallway, they passed many doors. Parchments were stuck upon them, words scribble on like Toliet room or Bath room in a messy writing. The end of the hallway there was an archway. On top of it was written Bunker three. As the three of them entered, Chirefy waved his paw, "This will be yarr rarm!"

The bunker was low-ceilinged. On the floor, raggedy blankets littered the floor.

[Ashstripe]

((Terribly sorry mate, I did leave notice, but that is rather neglectful of me to vanish for 2 months.))

The slow groans and creaks of the timber-deck did little to put the Hares and Ashstripe at ease. Every step the massive Badger took felt like he was asking too much of the ship, that it would collapse under his feet and swallow him whole.

He could feel the waves push against the rims of the boat. Ashstripe stumbled drunkedly behind Chiefy as he bent low to avoid scraping the low ceiling. His retinue in tow weren't faring much better; the lanky hares found their ears scraping the low ceiling as they appeared visibly sick and disgusted with what would be their home for who knew how long.

"Quaint. Quite quaint." Sarge muttered from behind Ashstripe as he appraised the room. And the Badger could only find himself nodding in sullen agreement; Spartan wasn't quite adequate to describe the lodgings he found in front of him. He found himself feeling quite claustrophobic in the dimly lit bunks, that he would have to share with his hares.

"Welcome home Long Patrol. And how long should we expect to live in these...Quarters?" He muttered evenly.

[Sigurd]

(no problem, mate. I won't be on as much either)

Chiefy gave a salute and walked out the door. The fat shrew needed to man his ship.

(Let's just skip to Luminar)

After several months, the ruddy boat was moving through silver rapids. Sigurd was leaning on the rail, eating a loaf of bread. The fox was still grim as ever. Instead of wearing his ranger gear, he had shed off the cloak, vest and shirt.

A young shrew flew into the Hare's Quarters. "Luminar ho, mateys!"