Hey! Now we meet the searats! (You have one second to boo and hiss these villains.) Ok, actually, I think these rats are pretty cool. Or at least I did, until I finished the chapter. So now their pretty much back to evil vermin. Gah, who needs politicians anyway?
Yeah, sorry bout the length, a bit short, but hey, 'tis only the beginning of the story.
Sitgar smelled the ocean air, breathing deeply, letting the salty air saturate his senses. His eyes watered slightly from the breeze that his ship was pointed against. The gloomy, grey clouded sky offered no consolation to the searat, blocking sunlight like the ominous shadow of a foe, coming to finish off the wounded. Surrounded by a blanket of water, so deep blue it appeared black, Sitgar felt like he was in the middle of a vice, slowly squeezing his sanity from him, boring him beyond belief. Staring out into the grey-black gloom he strained his vision, hoping for a sign of land, a puff of smoke, a sail on the horizon. Nothing. Complete and utter silence surrounded the ship as its sails fluttered lazily in the weak, head-on breeze. The captain knew that his ship wouldn't be venturing any farther north today.
After leaving the friendly coasts of Eastern Mossflower, the captain and his ragtag crew had sailed to the Deep South, long passing Salamandastron. They sailed to wild and wondrous lands, far beyond imagination. But soon the heat became unbearable, Stilgar and his crew wilted like leaves in a drought. Fighting to return to the more comfortably cool northern waters, he and his crew nearly lost their lives. After nearly a season of unbearable heat, unfavorable winds, and tacking, the crew was blessed with a strong northerly wind. The hot air from the deepest reaches of the harsh and foreign land blasted the intruders hard and fast back to home waters before leaving them stranded here, in the middle of nowhere. "Blast it!" Sitgar thought, mentally cursing the wind, their ill luck, their lack of income, and the soon to be mutiny within the crew.
Unlike most searats, Sitgar was cultured and civilized. Upon choosing and ranking his crew, he had made up a set of strict but fair rules. The first had been that if the crew disliked the decisions of the captain, they would formally announce a mutiny, and a civilized vote would be taken, each crew member with their own amount of votes. After the votes were tallied, the mutineers would either take the ship under their control, or be sent to the brig for scouring depending upon the outcome of the vote.
Everybeast in the crew knew these rules and understood them, and they actually respected their captain. He had led them on many successful escapades throughout the seas, bringing in large amounts of profit with them after said adventures. But after the Arikaan trip, the crew was uneasy about their captain. After so many good raids, the exploratory gone suicide trip was just about enough to convince them that their captain had gone mad. Not to mention the crew had only lost supplies and nearly their lives, and had gained nothing.
"Alright cap'n, the crewbeasts are ready to vote." Sitgar's first mate informed, "And I'm afeard that it don't look too much in your favor cap'n."
"Thank you Krin," he smiled at the searat, remembering better days, "And, seeing as the vote will most likely result in mutiny, thank you for supporting and trusting me as a captain for all these seasons."
Both rats smiled wryly, knowing that their time was up and that the days of civility upon the Crabclaw were over. With grim satisfaction, the seafaring rats, glanced once more at the horizon, not giving up hope, then locked their jaws and entered the galley where the fate of the Crabclaw would be determined.
The galley reeked of rotten meat and unwashed dishes. The stench was only topped by the odor of unwashed rat. But after nearly a full season at sea, the grimy rodents had gotten used to the smell, and acknowledged it as a way of seafaring life. Standing in the middle of the tour-de-odor was the ringleader of the mutiny. Tzak was a tall, for a searat, lean, and mean fighting machine. He had been hired as a fighter, only in for the plunder. Apparently though, the rat had a mind. Finding a way to manipulate the crew to his point of view, only the closest officers and Sitgar himself were still loyal to his rule aboard the ship.
"Shut up all y'blatherin' beasts, the cap'n is 'ere!" Tzak shouted, showing the little respect that remained for Sitgar.
"Thank ye, Tzak," Sitgar acknowledged. He nodded at his first mate, indicating to begin the voting.
The loyal rat walked to the head of the galley, stepping up onto a stool, wavering slightly at first, and then gaining his balance on the teetering stool. "Crew, we now begin da voting. Tzak, what form of vote do you demand?"
Tzak replied with full confidence, "Open, please."
Sitgar was surprised by this decision. With an open vote, no ballots were cast, only verbal bids were thrown, open showing who was loyal and who wasn't. Tzak must be awful confident that he's got the crew against me. Sitgar thought to himself.
"Alright then, let the voting begin with Tzak, then speak up as I point to ye."
With a large amount of drama, the first mate raised his paw and forcefully pointed at Tzak, "I vote for the hading over of the ship to my rule, on account of the Arikaan disaster."
First mate pointed to the next searat.
"Tzak," then the next
"Tzak"
"Tzak"
"Tzak"
The first mate had made his way around the rest of the circle, only counting one vote for Sitgar, from himself. He finally made his way to Sitgar, speaking with authority he pronounced, "Sitgar Quicktail, as stated in the rules presented to the crew upon joining, the captain has one last chance to overrule the rebellion. Will you take action upon Tzak's challenge of your authority?"
Sitgar paused, after pursing his thin black lips numerous times he spoke. "Yes I shall-"
An uproar went up from the searats, the democratic vote was lost! Sitgar had turned away from everything he had taught them.
"Quiet, I'm not done yet!" Sitgar shouted, "Now if you beasts will listen for a second please," he cleared his throat, staring at the roof as if looking for inspiration, "I shall take action, but not in the form you think. As captain of the Crabclaw, I formally surrender this vessel into the ruling hands of Tzak Gindar."
A collective sigh went up from the crew, including the first mate. Tzak smiled. "Well old beast, it seems that your time has come. Die!" And with those words, Tzak drew his crooked dagger, still bloodstained from their last battle, and plunged it deep into Sitgar's chest. Blood spurted from the jagged hole, staining Sitgar's white silk shirt a deep crimson. His eyes glazed over with an expression of horror at the stupefying act which had just taken place.
Tzak grinned evilly showing his pearly white incisors, clean and sharp. "Now," he paused, turning for all to see his sadistic grin. "Is there anyone else who still follows the late Sitgar Politicpants?" He laughed a devilish laugh, his voice screeching through the high pitched guffaws.
The crew recoiled in horror, wondering what sort of beast they had mistakenly released, and what fate would come their way because of this horrendous mistake.