The night was still... Disturbingly so... It matched a level of unnerving which some could say was almost spiritually haunting. For him, however... it was... Beautiful. It was fear. Fear was beautiful. The waves were scared to roll and the creatures of the world were too stunned by the intrusion of the unknown that they sealed their cries. Fear was power. Fear was influence. Fear was control. To try and control without some fear of consequence was to simply preach to a room of rowdy, undisciplined cubs. It didn't work.
His Ursian Man-o-War, granted by command to him of the Ursian Navel council, had been deemed 'The Lucid Dreamer.' She was a finely -built vessel, one worthy of no navy save for that of Ursius, the most powerful of all forces in the world. He thought so. They'd won every war which had torn the world apart to current. "Admiral Duivel." The voice was meek, nearly a whisper and laced with the sweet aroma of fear, that which he relished with a deep passion. The pitiless black of his irises turned ever slowly from the stern window and glazed the appearance of the creature at his cabin door. It was a chocolate brown finnic with a curled mop of shag about his skull. His ears were rather large, good for those of a look-out and a trust-able crew member. He was dressed in the lavish Ursian Naval uniform, thought not a Ursian himself. Nevertheless, he had long proven himself a reliable ally among them all. The Admiral especially.
"Yes, Mister Fitzgerald?" The Fennic became a slight tinge braver and stepped fully into the center of the cabin, back strait and respectful. The stance came naturally around any high-ranking officer... Any officer save for Admiral Duivel. The Ursian was of a stranger... intimidating sort. It was not his Ursian Naval blue long-coat, spangled in golden accents and medals that shimmered like the stars of his flag. It was not the glorious Man-a-War he commanded, the pride of the Ursian fleet with enough guns to destroy the Island of Lenaus. It was just... him... His irises were deeper than the Marshaw abyss, black and light-less to accompany such, almost to where one could not see the white. His claws gleamed ebony, curved like scythes and sharp like steel blades... And his fur was a deep, partially pearlescent, yellow, gold in appearance. The Fennic could name no other like Admiral Duivel. He was unique, to say the least.
"We've received our orders from Ursius," came Mister Fitzgerald. The Ursian before him clasped his massive paws behind his back and teetered on the heels of his uniform boots.
"And?"
"And the Council has denied your request. They sent with their courier a written message from the chairman himself." The Fennic handed an overly-folded sheet to his superior who took it with an irritable snatch and a seething growl.
"We cannot allow such free range on your part. We have trusted you with many liberties, but this is where a line must be drawn for the sake of our country. By the Gods... What does that old haggard know about the welfare of Ursius? She's powerful in a time of lawful war, but what will she do against an enemy which follows no laws? These bastards aren't going to keep to treaties and parliament! Does he honestly think them capable of reason?"
"Perhaps. You know he has that young adviser at his right often. He's a naive cub, but has quite an influence over the choices of the chairman. He thinks highly of him simply because he thinks that this age is a time of reform. You know how it is, do you not, Admiral? Reform is a result of the ideals of the younger generation."
"But to leave the issue of reform and influence of decision to a cub? I don't like how close they are becoming, either. He might very well go against tradition and elect that little brat to be his successor once he's retired."
"He can do that?"
"He's the chairman of our military forces. He has complete control over such things unless King Gallagher, in his mighty self, steps in, which he won't. Bentley has had Gallagher in his pocket for fifteen years. The bloke is practically untouchable." Admiral Duivel marched to his window once more, paws clenched tightly together and claws jabbing into the padded palms. "That's why the King is blind... He doesn't see why I need to do this!" One paw released the other and slammed in a fist into the wooden wall, just shy of the window's edge. The wood slightly splintered under the force... The grizzly just left his paw resting in the dent he made. "We'll show them..." He let loose a deep breath. "Set a course for Zeeptin. We'll regroup with the rest of our fleet."
"Admiral... The council-"
"Do it, Fitzgerald!" The Fennic jumped and quickly turned to the door, exiting without much more of an argument. Admiral Duivel, however, simply stared back into the eyes of his reflection.
...
It'd taken days... So much labor and aching paws but he'd just about done it... He could have easily been done long before current, but to do so then would have meant trouble. Freddy needed the perfect moment. After some time of watching the crew, Freddy deducted that around midnight, every night, the watch switched. For a breif moment, the hold was empty. It was then that he could take his chance, leave his cell, and figure out the rest of his plan. Granted, not having a full plan did hinder his chances for success... and life, but any risk, so long as he, in the least, tried, was worth it. He thought so, anyway.
The time was slowly approaching and Freddy glanced to his right. Gerard was fast asleep, curled on his mound of straw. His breathing was light and calming, something Freddy found as a small aid for his own nights. The sound of life somewhere near always helped him sleep. He then glanced around the rest of the hold. There were so many empty cells... citizens he'd talked to only weeks before... now gone... cast into the ocean by the butchers who slaughtered them and many prior. Freddy wished he could get some small revenge, but escape came first, rescue second, revenge only if he had the chance. These pirates would pay, though, weather it be by Freddy's paw or the Gods'. They'd do best to pray is was Freddy's. The Gods' were much less forgiving. "Shift!" The bellowing call picked at Freddy's ears and they perked upright to listen. He followed the sounds of each crew member and watched and counted the bodies by the stairway lantern. 1.. 2...3...4...5...6...7...8. Eight watchmen. This was it. The grizzly dug his claw under the lock and, with one swift, powerful jerk, the mechanism became detached and the tumbler swung open. He didn't stop to revel over the small victory. He quickly scurried out and shut the door back, piling some straw by the foot of it to keep it closed. Then, he ducked between cells and cargo crates, moving into the shadows where he was almost certain he was invisible. Then came the next wave of watchmen, eyes fresh and bodies rested. He needn't attract their attention. A quarrel with them, especially in his weaker state, would NOT end well.
Freddy counted again. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8 There were the eight replacements. Freddy moved slowly, crouched close to the floor, ears back and nose helping him around objects more than his eyes could in such darkness. He smelled gun powder and a deep hickory. The crate before him was such. He slunk behind it and tried to make out figures in the darkness. There were three pirates between him and the stairs. There was plenty of darkness. he could make it to the next deck, at least. Freddy scuttled around the three and to the stairs. There was light on the stairs... Lantern light. He could be seen by it from across the deck. He needn't draw that kind of attention... but there was no other way. He had to rush it. Watching the crew, Freddy waited, counting seconds... steps... His heart beats... They went by like hours... Then there was an opportunity... The two closest to him were occupied with a crying prisoner. He needed to go now. Freddy quickly shuffled up the steps and around a shelf of cargo. He stopped to catch his breath... 'Okay,' he thought. 'That's one deck. This is a Man-o-War. An Ursian style Man-o-War. She has two more decks after this one. Both cannon decks much like this one. The stairs are on opposing walls from each other case, so I can just swing around to head up the next flight... I still have to be careful.'
Freddy peeked around the shelf and found nothing save for an unmanned cannon, thus he shimmied along the shelf and came up to the next flight of stairs. He was quick to ascend then stop once more. 'Oh no...' This floor was purely a cannon deck. There was little else there besides some small cots, unfortunately occupied, and some nets of cannonballs. These nets were hung, however, to ensure that nothing and no one was damaged by them in case of rough seas. There was near to nothing for him to hide behind... And a pirate at the stairs... Not just any pirate, either... It was the shepherd... The First mate, from what Freddy could gather. He wasn't just that, though... Freddy knew him; had for a long time... The history wasn't pretty. 'Damn you, Michael...' Freddy moaned inside his head. This was impossible... What in the five hells was he suppose to do now? Freddy crouched low in a shadow and thought, racked his brain breathlessly for an idea. He did so in such violence that his head even began to ache. He was stressed... Not a good thinker under stress... He clenched his eyes shut, holding in a growl through clenched fangs.
"If I didn't owe you, I'd shoot you..." The low rumble was deep and cold, nearly as cold as the metal barrel pressed to the back of Freddy's neck. "If you're good, I'll escort you back to your cell and Captain Foxy doesn't have to know..." Freddy's crystal eyes bore through the darkness, turning to glare at the dog.
"You know that old bet is worth more than a trip back to my cell... Of course... What's a pirate to honor an honest bet?" Mike scoffed.
"Bets will be honored, promises, unless to the Captain? Not so much. We like our gambling, our betting. We hate to lose a bet, but it's in the better interests of the crew if their honored. How much do you think yours is worth?"
"A certain pirate looking the other way..."
"I can't do that. It's mutiny. I am at good terms with the Captain, but he will not hesitate the shoot me if such conduct is discovered." Freddy dug his claws into the deck.
"Who's to say he'll know? I only want to leave with my father and to do that I need to find a way off this ship. If I get caught, you were taking a break to relieve yourself. No one besides us is here to say otherwise, right?" The pistol remained on him, but now against his forehead.
"You have another gun-deck to climb. Then topside. You won't survive and if you do, the Captain will find suitable punishment for an escapee. You are not a prisoner of war, Frederick. To Foxy, you're livestock... You're product to be exploited and sold. He's not like his father. He'll kill every chance he gets and he'll take anything he can get his paws on. He wants to earn a reputation and is going down the path for the worst kind. I'd be doing you a cruelty if I let you passed me. Take my advice," He pulled back the hammer. "Come back to your cell." Freddy's muzzle was stern.
"Mike, you owe me more than a bet. You owe me years of pain. You owe my mother an apology, something that cannot be given now, seeing as she's gone-"
"Gaia's gone...? How long?"
"Two months and here I am, her grieving son, with her more than so Husband, in the custody of pirates... How much worse do you think it can get? You owe me more... You owe my mother... You owe my father... Look. The other. Way." The gun didn't falter. It remained steadfast to the grizzly's temple. Mike's eyes were much the same, dark brown almost black against the darkness had it not been for the small sliver of candle light. His muzzle was in a veil of darkness...
"You have thirty seconds." Freddy didn't waste any time. He scurried up the stairs and into another bundle of shadow, unseen by any besides the shepherd on the lower deck. Mike felt two different concoctions in his gut; two chemicals which, alone, couldn't do much damage, but together were a lethal poison. As for Freddy, he was already peeking onto the top-deck, seeing no one save for the helmsman who was ever focused on the ocean before him. The grizzly looked up. Past the sails he could make out a feint movement, some outline of the look-out. He wasn't keen on the deck, at the moment. Freddy moved cautiously, getting into the deck and watching the two figures by darting his eyes from the helm to the nest. Helm... nest... helm...nest...
Then white. A flash of white and Freddy found himself sprawled onto the top-deck, a seething ache shooting through his right side. The Helmsman jumped from where Freddy could see him and he was quick to scream into the night, so loud that the Grizzly's ears rang with it's echo. "Escapee!"
"Hush ya yap, Bloke. Dun need ta' wake up th'whole damn crew! This is handled." Freddy glanced back and found a certain female figure looming over him. He attempted to stand, moving quickly, but not quick enough. The vixen swept her paw under his own and he was on his stomach again. "Stop now, lad. Ye's gone hurt ye'self. Ye dun need more pain th'n what ol' Vaha gone do t'ya. Me's hopin' t'have s'much fun wit-"
"No, ye's not gone do nothin' t'him." The second voice sent chills down Freddy's spine like cold steel. He knew who it was... but such a gentle murmur was nothing short of shocking, coming from that which it was. "Take'im t'me quarters. I'll deal wit'the likes'a him." The Vixen gave a disappointed grumble.
"Fine'n." Then... Black...