A/N It seems every time I walk into a hotel room since the second
night I've been at Silver Dollar City, I write. Usually a page or two, but
last time I wrote a whole chapter, four pages. Of course, some writers on
ff.net write 20 page chapters on a regular basis, and once, a writer I read
wrote a forty page chapter! So, four pages isn't much, but it is what I
write.
Oh well, ignore me and read the story. (The mosquitoes here a sooo annoying! Sorry, had to say that...)
(Chapter Three)
Sliceclaw warily watched the island from second deck. He was sure that he had seen fire smoke on the island, but there was none. He stared out at the leafy isle, almost as if expecting it to leap out and attack his newfound ship. The volcano on the island stood out like a giant.
"Ahoy, Captain, we does we attack?" A weasel with matted fur and grimy clothes called up to the Sliceclaw. "We thinks that those beasts on the island knew we wuz comin."
Sliceclaw rolled his dark eyes and walked down to second deck, cuffing the weasel on the ear. "What do you think, deadhead? They ain't the stupidest of beasts, this 'ere ship stands out like a bug on a plate of vittles!"
The weasel was not the brightest of the crew of the Seajaw. "Er, er, wot does all that means, Cap'n?"
Sliceclaw clouted the weasel harder, this time on his forehead. "It means was wuz seen, blockbrains!" The ferret captain became bored of his crewmate and unhooked his whip from his back and lashed out onto the unfortunate weasel's ear. The thin blade snaked across and thrashed the grubby audile of the beast.
"Ouch! Mercy, Cap'n, mercy!" squealed the helpless weasel, flailing about like a rope in the wind.
Sliceclaw Scarkisk stopped the flaying and turned away, yelling, "All beasts, furl sails, and no slacking or youse will all feel my whip!"
The crew of murderers, seascum and thieves did as they were told.
(On the island)
Ranguvar sharpened a few more sticks to make improvised lances. Tossing away a fresh made lance, she honed a driftwood branch with a shard of obsidian from the rocky outcrops around the mountain on the island. Hacking away at the cane, she pitched it over her scarred and bandaged shoulder, and picked up another one from a pile of driftwood. She did not want to be attacked undefended by the ship, if it did carry Sea Rogues.
"Here's more, Rang!" Sieka chucked two more rough poles at the pile of driftwood near her sister.
Ranguvar picked up the pair of sticks, she looked at them with admiration. "These are good and tough, Sieka. Can you find more of these?"
Sieka ran off, bushy tail waving like a banner against the cerulean water. Ranguvar selected a piece of long, dark driftwood and started carving a tip on it.
(Two hours later on the island)
Ranguvar gripped her rock that she had been sharpening the poles with in her paw, looking at the lances. They were makeshift and some more like clubs than javelins, but were weapons all the same. She threw the rock into the sea, watching it splash into the shallows.
"Rang! Rang! Big ship comin!" Sieka ran towards her sister, fright in her small voice. "Whatta we do now, Rang?"
Ranguvar pointed towards their drey. "Go there, and stay there until I say to come out. Go now!"
Sieka ran off again, going to the tree. Ranguvar grimly picked up a rather sharp lance with knobby bumps along it, good for gripping during battle.
"Hoi, Ranguvar! Can we help?" A group of squirrels, numbering about half a score, came up to the black squirrel. "We're strong, we can help a bit."
Ranguvar nodded. "Take a lance, and if you can, wield a club. Got plenty of rocks about to sling."
A dusty brown squirrel with hefty looking paws picked up a clubs and swung it around. He nodded. "I like the feel of this weapon. I shall use it in battle!"
Ranguvar agreed. "Battle will come, and the foebeasts will not survive!"
Later Ranguvar, the group of squirrels, and plus a few more older ones from the village, were hiding behind the large rocks at the shore, watching the ship Seajaw coming closer with every breeze.
(Aboard the Seajaw)
Sliceclaw tested his whip with his claws, feeling the leaf-thin blade with his grimy nails. "Righto, mates, we're gonna go in, then out, find some wood to fix up this vessel, and-"
"Cap'n, why can't we justs make the slaves do it?"
Sliceclaw glared at the small and rather dull searat that had spoken. "Well, if there ain't any slaves to be taken, we just have to do it ourselves then, mate!" He flicked out with his whip and caught the unlucky rat in the snout. He yelped and clawed at his muzzle with obvious pain.
No more arguments came after that on the Seajaw.
(On the island)
Ranguvar lay in wait, her paws gripping the lance, making clawmarks in the wood.
(Aboard the Seajaw)
"Cap'n, do we beach or loose anchor?" asked a stout, gray rat armed with a cutlass.
"Beach 'er." Sliceclaw's voice was flat and had no emotion to it. "Lay low in the ship until I says so."
The rat scurried off, and whispered to his companions to help him with the beaching of the Seajaw.
(Later aboard the Seajaw)
Sliceclaw was bent low behind the sides of the craft, testing his whip-blade on his striped claws. Peering out to the isle, he murmured to his crew, "Git yore weapons ready. I ain't sure iffen there beasts on that island, but if there ain't, listen to me."
The rat with the cutlass was closest to the captain. He examined the rocks on the shore. "I dunno, Cap'n, but I swore I thought I saw a point of wood sticking out of the rock for a sekin."
Sliceclaw gazed at the rocks. "Now Gurgi, you 'earken. Take about five beasts and go out there and scout out the rocks. 'Ey, Bluegung, take ten beasts and wade out into the water an' fight off anybeasts iffen there is and the rest of yore mates will come and help," instructed the pirate captain.
"Aye aye, Cap'n!" replied Gurgi and Bluegung.
(Later, with the fifteen crewmates of the Seajaw)
"Right, mates, let's figire this un out. Er, Scobs, Sharkie, you go towards those big rocks and tell us wot you found. Grukle, you go with Yewer and find out wot's behind that patch o' trees," said Bluegung with a hint of nervousness. "I'm goin' with Scobs and Sharkie." He trotted off with the pair of stoats.
Yewer, a short fox clad in mostly rags and tattoos adorning his body, looked around. "Well, we'd best be lookin around those trees. I don't see why landlubbers just stay on the land instead of the luverly sea."
Grukle nodded. "Aye, mate. Trees, sand, it ain't fer us."
Yewer stepped a pace closer to the trees- and was stopped short by a hurled lance. Yewer got one good look at his heart with the stick of wood in it- then collapsed.
Grukle started shaking in fear of what might come out of the other rocks. He ran, but another javelin hit him in the back after four strides.
A burly looking squirrel, nearly white in color with crimson eyes, chuckled quietly to himself. "There's two more seascum gone!"
Ranguvar hefted another stick, this one more like a primitive club then anything else. "Aye, it's the last thing those jetsam of the waves with ever see!"
(Over the rocks to where Scobs, Bluegung and Sharkie were)
Sharkie plodded through the rocks, unaware that two of his crewmates had just been slain. "I don't see nothing 'ere, Scobs."
Bluegung was checking a rather large limestone chunk. "Aye, nothin here either. Wot about youse, Scobs?"
Scobs had picked up a tuft of fur, and was inspecting it. "This un is too shaggy to be stoat fur, and we're the only uns over here."
Bluegung looked closer. "Looks like bushtail fur," he commented, and peered closer for a better look.
A spear hurtled out of the rocks not far from the trio and hit Bluegung in the back. He went down, a lance pinned to his badly garbed back.
"Wot in the Dark Gates name..." whispered Scobs to himself. He peered at the area where the weapon had come from. "Alright, come on out or we're gonna do it for ye!"
A javelin whizzed out of the rocks and struck home in the stoat's neck. Another two went for the bemused Sharkie.
The pair of squirrels, each clasping a pile of sharpened lances, slipped away to where the rest of their rough-and-ready army was.
(End Chapter Three)
A/N Whew that was long! About two more pages then what I usually do. Ah well.
I'm leaving Silver Dollar City today! Branson, Missouri is nice, but I prefer home. I spent two days on this chapter. It's Friday, June 11, 2004, and I haven't been home in a whole week. I miss my cats. Okay, I know all this is irrelevant to everything, but how else am I supposed to tell anybody anything? Just ignore all my A/N's if you don't bother to read this.
I still love my rocks though... Shadowsong loves to pet her rocks...What?
Like I said earlier, this is defiantly going to be a four chapter story. See you next chapter!
Oh well, ignore me and read the story. (The mosquitoes here a sooo annoying! Sorry, had to say that...)
(Chapter Three)
Sliceclaw warily watched the island from second deck. He was sure that he had seen fire smoke on the island, but there was none. He stared out at the leafy isle, almost as if expecting it to leap out and attack his newfound ship. The volcano on the island stood out like a giant.
"Ahoy, Captain, we does we attack?" A weasel with matted fur and grimy clothes called up to the Sliceclaw. "We thinks that those beasts on the island knew we wuz comin."
Sliceclaw rolled his dark eyes and walked down to second deck, cuffing the weasel on the ear. "What do you think, deadhead? They ain't the stupidest of beasts, this 'ere ship stands out like a bug on a plate of vittles!"
The weasel was not the brightest of the crew of the Seajaw. "Er, er, wot does all that means, Cap'n?"
Sliceclaw clouted the weasel harder, this time on his forehead. "It means was wuz seen, blockbrains!" The ferret captain became bored of his crewmate and unhooked his whip from his back and lashed out onto the unfortunate weasel's ear. The thin blade snaked across and thrashed the grubby audile of the beast.
"Ouch! Mercy, Cap'n, mercy!" squealed the helpless weasel, flailing about like a rope in the wind.
Sliceclaw Scarkisk stopped the flaying and turned away, yelling, "All beasts, furl sails, and no slacking or youse will all feel my whip!"
The crew of murderers, seascum and thieves did as they were told.
(On the island)
Ranguvar sharpened a few more sticks to make improvised lances. Tossing away a fresh made lance, she honed a driftwood branch with a shard of obsidian from the rocky outcrops around the mountain on the island. Hacking away at the cane, she pitched it over her scarred and bandaged shoulder, and picked up another one from a pile of driftwood. She did not want to be attacked undefended by the ship, if it did carry Sea Rogues.
"Here's more, Rang!" Sieka chucked two more rough poles at the pile of driftwood near her sister.
Ranguvar picked up the pair of sticks, she looked at them with admiration. "These are good and tough, Sieka. Can you find more of these?"
Sieka ran off, bushy tail waving like a banner against the cerulean water. Ranguvar selected a piece of long, dark driftwood and started carving a tip on it.
(Two hours later on the island)
Ranguvar gripped her rock that she had been sharpening the poles with in her paw, looking at the lances. They were makeshift and some more like clubs than javelins, but were weapons all the same. She threw the rock into the sea, watching it splash into the shallows.
"Rang! Rang! Big ship comin!" Sieka ran towards her sister, fright in her small voice. "Whatta we do now, Rang?"
Ranguvar pointed towards their drey. "Go there, and stay there until I say to come out. Go now!"
Sieka ran off again, going to the tree. Ranguvar grimly picked up a rather sharp lance with knobby bumps along it, good for gripping during battle.
"Hoi, Ranguvar! Can we help?" A group of squirrels, numbering about half a score, came up to the black squirrel. "We're strong, we can help a bit."
Ranguvar nodded. "Take a lance, and if you can, wield a club. Got plenty of rocks about to sling."
A dusty brown squirrel with hefty looking paws picked up a clubs and swung it around. He nodded. "I like the feel of this weapon. I shall use it in battle!"
Ranguvar agreed. "Battle will come, and the foebeasts will not survive!"
Later Ranguvar, the group of squirrels, and plus a few more older ones from the village, were hiding behind the large rocks at the shore, watching the ship Seajaw coming closer with every breeze.
(Aboard the Seajaw)
Sliceclaw tested his whip with his claws, feeling the leaf-thin blade with his grimy nails. "Righto, mates, we're gonna go in, then out, find some wood to fix up this vessel, and-"
"Cap'n, why can't we justs make the slaves do it?"
Sliceclaw glared at the small and rather dull searat that had spoken. "Well, if there ain't any slaves to be taken, we just have to do it ourselves then, mate!" He flicked out with his whip and caught the unlucky rat in the snout. He yelped and clawed at his muzzle with obvious pain.
No more arguments came after that on the Seajaw.
(On the island)
Ranguvar lay in wait, her paws gripping the lance, making clawmarks in the wood.
(Aboard the Seajaw)
"Cap'n, do we beach or loose anchor?" asked a stout, gray rat armed with a cutlass.
"Beach 'er." Sliceclaw's voice was flat and had no emotion to it. "Lay low in the ship until I says so."
The rat scurried off, and whispered to his companions to help him with the beaching of the Seajaw.
(Later aboard the Seajaw)
Sliceclaw was bent low behind the sides of the craft, testing his whip-blade on his striped claws. Peering out to the isle, he murmured to his crew, "Git yore weapons ready. I ain't sure iffen there beasts on that island, but if there ain't, listen to me."
The rat with the cutlass was closest to the captain. He examined the rocks on the shore. "I dunno, Cap'n, but I swore I thought I saw a point of wood sticking out of the rock for a sekin."
Sliceclaw gazed at the rocks. "Now Gurgi, you 'earken. Take about five beasts and go out there and scout out the rocks. 'Ey, Bluegung, take ten beasts and wade out into the water an' fight off anybeasts iffen there is and the rest of yore mates will come and help," instructed the pirate captain.
"Aye aye, Cap'n!" replied Gurgi and Bluegung.
(Later, with the fifteen crewmates of the Seajaw)
"Right, mates, let's figire this un out. Er, Scobs, Sharkie, you go towards those big rocks and tell us wot you found. Grukle, you go with Yewer and find out wot's behind that patch o' trees," said Bluegung with a hint of nervousness. "I'm goin' with Scobs and Sharkie." He trotted off with the pair of stoats.
Yewer, a short fox clad in mostly rags and tattoos adorning his body, looked around. "Well, we'd best be lookin around those trees. I don't see why landlubbers just stay on the land instead of the luverly sea."
Grukle nodded. "Aye, mate. Trees, sand, it ain't fer us."
Yewer stepped a pace closer to the trees- and was stopped short by a hurled lance. Yewer got one good look at his heart with the stick of wood in it- then collapsed.
Grukle started shaking in fear of what might come out of the other rocks. He ran, but another javelin hit him in the back after four strides.
A burly looking squirrel, nearly white in color with crimson eyes, chuckled quietly to himself. "There's two more seascum gone!"
Ranguvar hefted another stick, this one more like a primitive club then anything else. "Aye, it's the last thing those jetsam of the waves with ever see!"
(Over the rocks to where Scobs, Bluegung and Sharkie were)
Sharkie plodded through the rocks, unaware that two of his crewmates had just been slain. "I don't see nothing 'ere, Scobs."
Bluegung was checking a rather large limestone chunk. "Aye, nothin here either. Wot about youse, Scobs?"
Scobs had picked up a tuft of fur, and was inspecting it. "This un is too shaggy to be stoat fur, and we're the only uns over here."
Bluegung looked closer. "Looks like bushtail fur," he commented, and peered closer for a better look.
A spear hurtled out of the rocks not far from the trio and hit Bluegung in the back. He went down, a lance pinned to his badly garbed back.
"Wot in the Dark Gates name..." whispered Scobs to himself. He peered at the area where the weapon had come from. "Alright, come on out or we're gonna do it for ye!"
A javelin whizzed out of the rocks and struck home in the stoat's neck. Another two went for the bemused Sharkie.
The pair of squirrels, each clasping a pile of sharpened lances, slipped away to where the rest of their rough-and-ready army was.
(End Chapter Three)
A/N Whew that was long! About two more pages then what I usually do. Ah well.
I'm leaving Silver Dollar City today! Branson, Missouri is nice, but I prefer home. I spent two days on this chapter. It's Friday, June 11, 2004, and I haven't been home in a whole week. I miss my cats. Okay, I know all this is irrelevant to everything, but how else am I supposed to tell anybody anything? Just ignore all my A/N's if you don't bother to read this.
I still love my rocks though... Shadowsong loves to pet her rocks...What?
Like I said earlier, this is defiantly going to be a four chapter story. See you next chapter!