A/N: First off. Yes. It took me several months to write all this. Forgive me. I thiiink my excuse this time will be a nice and generic '2020'- it's a weird time to be creative.
Having said that Black and White is now three years old, and as of this chapter, three hundred thousand words long. Which is... a very large number. *Sweats nervously* and we still have so much to go through. And I am very excited for it, so please bare with me and survive my delays.
AlexFalTalon: Slightly cringey? Not necessarily what I was going for but let's be real. Most teenage romances come with high levels of cringe. The Pirates Arc will have murder! Just... mixed in with 'romance' and my brand of humour. Don't worry there are still stakes involved, I promise.
Berserker88: I am totally going to name a chapter Klis Wants A Kiss at some point and it's entirely your fault. Also, yes, convenient miscommunication is the key ingredient in any comedy :P
Andham24: Yup, GoT fan till the end. The... very... bitter... end. *Flashbacks* Glad you enjoy BaW!
Waycaster: Loooots of Klis chapters left to come. I should have mixed these up with Fret's and Sharpfur's in hindsight but, eh, you win some you lose some. When your pacing is already destroyed, you might as well drop a nuke on it, right? I will not comment on your ideas with the Manywhispers, for he works in total secrecy and nothing less. But some food for thought... *Is* he overthinking the letter?
"No! I said te bring up a double barrel of the good seaweed grog! Ripple ain't agreein' te nothin' if he's sober!" The unfortunate vermin tasked with bringing up said barrel grumbled under their breaths but hastened to undo their mistake. The Dreaded could turn very nasty when he didn't get his way.
"Don't ye think this be a bit much Cap'n?" Bloodface scratched the tip of his snout with his trusted, old and rusted dagger.
"Much?" The greatrat rounded on his first mate, who was always giving him problems, in a flurry of beads. "This be nothin' but dinner Bloodface."
"Aye," the weasel agreed, giving the piles of preserved food heaped on the Dreaded's most prized solid gold platters a skeptical side-eye. "But we're under rations. If Clogg knew 'bout this-"
His Captain's sudden guffaw and subsequent slap on the back sent Bloodface stumbling forwards and his dagger clattering to the ground.
"That be the best thing about Clogg me bucko! He don't know nothin' about nothin'. Probably's got somethin' te do with that missin' eye of his." The greatrat shrugged as if to say 'it doesn't matter'. "Why'd ye think a rat like me takes orders from a rat like him?"
Bloodface shrugged. "I dunno Cap'n. He the brain te yer brawn?"
The Dreaded snorted, and Bloodface was grateful that no snot actually came out. "I be me own brain, thanks. No. The reason Clogg be in charge is coz he lets a beast like me do whatever I want. He knows he can't control me. He knows I be a force of nature. He don't ask questions an' he lets me do things my way."
"He didn't when he was askin' for supplies."
"That be different!" The Dreaded protested. "I agreed coz I be generous."
"That ain't how I remember it," Bloodface muttered under his breath.
On the verge of tears, with Clogg's one, good and beady eye bearing down on him with the force of seven suns, The Dreaded made sure that eight barrels of fermented sardine were brought up from the stores and handed over to his rival captains.
"Pah! It don't matter what Clogg says- coz he won't ever know about this anyways." The Dreaded glared down at his first mate. "An' yer te make sure of that."
Sharkbreath liked to consider himself a refined gentlebeast, or at least as refined a gentlebeast as was possible to be when one was a pirate and a murderer. The prospect of a dinner, or any other meal really, shared with the Dreaded- at least the polar opposite of everything Ripple strived to be- did not exactly appeal to him. But Ripple Sharkbreath was no fool. One captain only invited another to a private dinner when they had something important to discuss. Under the circumstances, with food supplies dwindling by the day, and the Manywhisper's talk of treasure fresh on his mind, Ripple Sharkbreath expected something very important.
The Dreaded did not disappoint.
Indeed, it greatly surprised the ferret that as soon as he was seated and as soon as Bloodface exitted the cabin, the greatrat launched into an explanation. He hadn't even touched his seaweed grog!
"There be a treasure map."
Sharkbreath stiffened suddenly, and imperceptibly reached a paw towards his cutlass. His own treasure map, the one he had bought from the Manywhispers with half of the promised loot, was hidden safely in his cabin. He had told nobeast of it's existence...
"I don't have it, an' I've never seen it, but I hear it leads te great fortune." The Dreaded went on, oblivious to the ferret's movements.
Sharkbreath barely heard him. He was counting numbers. His fingers were moving under the table. One finger for each of the Dreaded's crew, one finger for each of his. If he killed the greatrat now, would he be able to get back to his own ship, or would the Dreaded's crew avenge him and start a war upon the decks. Could he kill the greatrat, even? Perhaps the Dreaded was expecting him to…
"An' I know who does have it!" The Dreaded slammed his meaty fists upon the table, and leaned forwards, a wide grin spreading over his muzzle.
Sharkbreath kicked his stool backwards, swept to his feet and drew his cutlass in one, clean motion. There was no more time to count. No more time to think. Now was the time to act!
"One-Eye!" The greatrat bellowed as the ferret's sharpened steel came rushing towards his face.
Somehow, perhaps miraculously, Ripple Sharkbreath managed to halt the advance of his blade, an inch from the Dreaded's face. The greatrat blinked stupidly, only now noticing how close to death he'd come.
"Apologies. I thought I saw a flea." The ferret sheathed his blade, righted his stool and sat down again. He leaned forwards conspiratorially, counting on the greatrat's stupidity to ignore what had just transpired. "Ye were sayin', about One-Eye an' his treasure map."
"Aye… One-Eye..." The Dreaded blinked once more, and rubbed at the spot where the cutlass would have hit him. "Yew remind me of him sometimes."
"I beg your pardon?" Sharkbreath huffed.
"Come off it- yew know how he gets with fleas!"
"Come back here yew bloodsthucking monshter!" The thoroughly pickled wildcat snarled, rapidly swinging his scimitar around himself as froth came billowing from his mouth.
THWACHK!
"Hey, leggo my swordsh!"
"And there he was, getting in a fight with the cabin door over his stuck sword. Losin' badly, I might add!"
Sharkbreath shrugged and the Dreaded shook his head with a clattering of multicoloured beads.
"Anyways," the rat went on. "One-Eye has a map that leads te great treasure- an' yew an I are gonna steals it from him."
Sharkbreath smiled. He did not need to count to know that together he and the Dreaded had more than enough beasts to send the young wildcat to an early grave and the bottom of the sea. "Clogg might not like violence."
"Which is why we're doin' it clever-like." The Dreaded insisted. He could no longer deny his gluttony it's needs, snatched up a salted herring and bit off it's head. "I'm gonna findsh hish map an' take it from under hish whiskersh."
Sharkbreath forced himself to remain impassive as bits of saliva and herring washed over him. The Dreaded spat out a clean fish skull, and swallowed.
"What do you need me for then?" The ferret asked, wondering if Toothclaw would believe him if he said the skull was from some kind of exotic squid… And how much the mink would pay for it...
"I don't want that crazy cat goin' around an' tellin' everybeast his map's gone missin'. The less beasts what know about this, the better. So we're gonna makes it that One-Eye doesn't know his map's gone- by replacin' it with a fake one."
"Ingenious." Sharkbreath sniffed at the grog, and counted seven missing ingredients. He still drank deeply, and licked froth clean off his whiskers when he was done. "I take it I will be doing the forgery."
"Aye. Ye've always had a steady paw an' been good with maps. Yer gonna draw him up a fake one, while I steals the real one. Then we'll find the real treasure an' split it between us while he digs up sand on a beach seven leagues south of us, ha!"
No, rat, you will both be digging up sand on beaches, while I horde up on gold. You fool! You could not have chosen a worse beast to confide into… Thought Sharkbreath as he smiled. "I accept your proposal."
"I know ye don't like me, an' te be honest, I don't like yew either," The Dreaded said, beaming as he refilled their tankards. "But yew an' I've been at this longer than that damn wildcat an' if anybeast deserves te get their paws on the treasure, it be us!"
"None of us like each other." Ripple Sharkbreath readily agreed. They clinked their glasses of grog, and drunk deep.
Bloodface found his captain finishing the double barrel a few hours later. Ripple Sharkbreath lay slumped forwards on the table, snoring gently. "It went well Cap'n?"
"Ohohoho! Sharkbreath bought it all!" The Dreaded guffawed, showering his first mate in spittle. "We'll finds the treasure I said! We'd share it I said! Ohohoho! But when we does," the greatrat leaned forwards, the smile on his face sending shivers up his first mate's spine. "I'll have a knife ready for his back!"
"Oi!" Scringewhiskers exclaimed, jumping out of the way of a fast-moving Klis. "Watchit scamp! Ye could have knocked me overboard!" The younger ferret did not seem to hear him, yet suddenly ground to a halt and murmured something. Under the impression that Marick's brat was giving him lip, Scringewhiskers balled his paws into fists. "Why don't yew say that again, but louder." To the older ferret's surprise Klis promptly fell backwards and hit the deck hard.
Several beasts turned towards the sound, some turned away as soon as they realized it was nothing of interest, and some turned away as soon as they realized it was Klis that had fainted. Scringewhiskers scowled and drew nearer.
"Daft landlubber, runnin' around on deck an' up an' droppin' dead from scurvy. What's the Captain gonna say, eh?" To Scringewhiskers' relief or disappointment (it was hard to say which it was for the ferret was equal parts relieved and disappointed) Klis had not, in fact, died of scurvy. A few not-so-gentle (pirates were rarely gentle) prods told Scringe that the young one was very much alive and healthy, if unconscious. It was at this point, however, that the elder ferret stopped caring and noticed the roll of parchment the ferret had clamped onto.
"Fates above!" he gasped, his eyes widening in wonder. "The map!" Quick as a flash he snatched it from the younger ferret's paws and stuffed it down his belt, then he rose quickly to his feetpaws. "Oi! Whimper's just fainted! Somebeast get him te his cabin! An' somebeast tell Clogg about this!" Without waiting to see if any of the crew obeyed him, Scringewhiskers was off, moving fast.
He could not believe his luck! Of course, he had always known that taking the map wouldn't be difficult, but to have it handed over to him on a silver platter? Not even he had expected it to fall into his paws so effortlessly.
"There yew are!" Darkhide hissed, beckoning for him to follow her. Scringewhiskers smirked, and did as he was bid, his newly-acquired map tucked neatly into his belt.
"This is startin' te make no sense." Thrak muttered to himself, his long tail stroking the tip of his chin. It had been exceptionally easy for the rat to sneak the custard creams out from under Ripple Sharkbreath's squeaky floorboard, and easier still to scale the Dreaded's mast and reach the pickled herring stashed in the crow's nest.
But now that he was staring his quarry in the eye, hidden safely in a corner of the Black Plague's hold, he was beginning to wonder what greater purpose they served. His stomach was also beginning to grumble, but that he could ignore. The feeling that he was being played a fool was harder to shake off.
"There is more to them than meets the eye," Thrak repeated the words of his Mistress, but could not help frowning with skepticism.
The tall rat consulted his list. "'A pair of mouldy loaves in Toothclaw's display'?" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his snout and made to stand just as a pair of beasts entered the hold.
"Now, before ye ran off to wherever," Darkhide glared pointedly at Scringewhiskers. "We were plannin' on how te get that map out of Whimper's paws an' into ours."
"Aye," grunted Fleaback. "I still says we do it while he's sleepin'."
"Oh nevermind the planning!" Scringewhiskers interrupted, unable to contain his excitement. "I saved us the trouble an' nabbed the damn thing from right under the whelp's nose!" The ferret withdrew the map from his belt and brandished it for his fellow conspirators to see. Both rats gasped a little, Fleaback admittedly moreso, and grinned.
"Well done," Darkhide praised, reaching a paw out towards the roll of parchment.
"It was too easy," Scringewhiskers grinned all the wider, very much enjoying the attention. He stretched the map forwards. "Like stealin' candied chestnuts from a-"
"Dibbun!" Finished Thrak, his long tail shooting out of the shadows and curling around the map. The tall rat emerged, standing at his full height and smiling amicably. "I think I'll take that if you don't mind."
"We do mind," grunted Fleaback, drawing a cudgel at once.
"And it's three on one," Scringewhiskers agreed, unsheathing his cutlass.
Thrak passed the map from his tail to his paw, his smile still in place despite the new hardness in his eyes. In one fluid motion the rat's tail curled on the hilt of his rapier and drew it in time to deflect the first of Darkhide's knives. "Such a pity the odds are not in your favour." He struck.
"What do ye mean he just fainted?" Clogg demanded, standing over the unconscious form of Klis, his paws akimbo. "Beasts don't just faint!"
Dungear and Mudfoot, who had gone to inform Clogg of the faux Whimper's condition, shared a look. "Well it's what that Scringewhiskers feller said." Dungear explained.
"He also said te bring 'im te 'is cabin but nobeast did that." Mudfoot added.
"Well pick him up an' bring him te mine," Clogg growled. "I want te be the first beast te ask him what happened when he wakes up." He also wanted to make sure that nobeast else could get to the ferret first, Klis was what any beast worth their salt would call an easy target.
With some difficulty the two weasels managed to lift Klis an entire inch off of the ground and stumbled off in the general direction of Clogg's cabin in an awkward three-step.
Tap, tap, tap. Mudfoot's peg-leg lead the way, Klis' middle dragged along the floor and Clogg followed scowling in their wake. Luckily Klis had not collapsed too far from the Captain's cabin and it was only a short while before they had reached their destination.
"Put him here," Clogg commanded, sweeping charts and books off of the bed.
Straining and groaning the weasels tried their very hardest. Unfortunately, Klis was twice as heavy as either of them and it was only after much huffing and puffing and forehead-rubbing (mostly on the part of Clogg) that they managed to dump him onto the mattress.
"Now get out."
The two, still exhausted from the greatest physical exertion of their lives, took far too long to draw meaning from the rat's order and, in the end, had to be helped out the door.
Adjusting his boot, Clogg drew up a chair and sat down beside the prone ferret.
"Ye can't seem te stay outta trouble, can yew?" the rat sighed heavily and put his face in his paws.
At first glance it was not easy to see how Browneye and Choptail had become friends. Indeed one had very little in common with the other. Choptail was short and fat and liked good cooking most of all. Browneye was tall and thin and didn't know the difference between a muffin and a crumpet. Still, they had both served under the same King for most of their lives and serving under Longclaw was enough to bring all sorts of beasts together despite their differences.
In any case much of their friendship involved one ranting to the other about things they didn't like. Today, Browneye was doing most of the ranting.
"They're like a pack of wolves!" the stoat was saying. "Always grouped up in their little gang. I can stab two of 'em sure," Browneye slashed at the air with his butter knife. "But there's always the third te deal with. Three on one ain't fair!" He stabbed the chopping board Choptail was working on, and watched in satisfaction as the knife quivered in place.
Choptail, also quivering in place, swallowed audibly. "M-maybe it's n-not a good idea te go after wolves?" he offered.
Browneye shook his head and flared up with self-rightousness. "I've been made the first mate of this 'ere ship an' that means responsibility! I've got te show the Captain I've gots it, that I can handle the ship, an' the crew. An' that means controllin' riff-raff like them lot. Besides, they made me stay up in the crow's nest for two weeks! Ain't no way I'm lettin' that slide." He slammed his fists against the chopping board. "Mark me words Choptail, those three are goin' down!"
The kitchen door promptly burst open, and was followed swiftly by the fast-moving forms of Thrak and 'those three'.
The tall rat was dueling furiously, his rapier flashing like lightning as it parried the blows of Scringewhisker's cutlass and kept Fleaback's cudgel on the defensive, while simultaneously deflecting or dodging the knives Darkhide kept throwing at him.
Choptail's eyes bulged as a redirected throwing knife flew a whisker's breadth above his head and landed with a hard thunk! on the wall behind him.
Brown-eye was too dumbstruck to do anything but watch. He would later go on to lament that, had his trusted butter knife not been embedded in Choptail's chopping board, he would have slain all three while they were distracted.
As it was he could do little other than balk and blink.
Snatching a pan still laced with grease from where it lay on one of the worktops, Thrak smacked aside Darkhide's incoming blade and brought the pan, grease and all, down upon Scringewhisker's head. He made to follow up with a lunge; which would almost certainly have been the ferret's end; but Fleaback's violent swings demanded attention and Thrak had to stay on the move to stay alive.
Retreating swiftly, his rapier spinning like a defensive whirlwind about him, Thrak scurried up the staircase and towards the open deck. Darkhide and Fleaback, and a short while later Scringewhiskers, shot off after him.
Choptail and Browneye turned to blink into each other's face.
"Yew saw that too, right?"
It was too much for Choptail, who fell to the ground with a strangled sob, his paws clutching at his face. "I-I hate pirates! A-always tryin' t-t-te k-kill somethin' o-o-or steal somethin' o-o-or get you killed!"
Ignoring the blubbering ball of ferret lard, Brown-eye shook his head from side to side, his features hardening. "Oh shut up Choptail!" he snapped, storming onto the deck. "Pirates ain't the only ones what kill."
It was easy to find the duelists once he was out of the kitchens. A crowd of bored corsairs had encircled the quartet and were either chanting some version of 'fight, fight, fight' or were giving the combatants suggestions on how best to kill the other.
"Go fer the groin!" One-Eye roared, his one eye hungry for bloodshed.
"Stab the leg! 'E's got a bad leg!" a wall-eyed stoat encouraged.
"Lunge with yer hips!"
"Oi!" Browneye bellowed. "What's goin' on 'ere?"
"There's a fight goin' on", a weasel he vaguely recognized as another Captain's first mate informed him. "Thrak versus Darkhide, Scringewhiskers an' Fleaback." The weasel picked at his teeth with his old, trusted and rusted dagger. "It's interestin' coz Thrak be Poisonblade's first mate an' Darkhide be Clogg's. Bet those two have been 'at it' again," Bloodface grinned, nudging Browneye in the ribs.
The stoat was not amused. "Actually I'm Clogg's first mate. I dunno what that rat-" he sniffed and turned his nose up in Darkhide's general direction. "Told yew, but Clogg killed his old first mate an' replaced 'em with me. Not her."
Bloodface opened and closed his mouth, his eyes narrowing. "Yew... sure?"
"Aye!" Brown-eye snapped. "Clogg himself promoted me!"
The weasel shrugged. "Well as first mate it's yer duty te end things like this if yer Captain ain't here, so ye might want te get movin' matey."
Brown-eye huffed. "I was just gettin' ready te do that. Preparin' meself te call for silence an' berate everybeast. Treat 'em like slaves an' boss them round like slaves an'-"
"Well yew might want te get a move on before one of 'em kills the other," Bloodface interrupted, as Thrak only just managed to catch Scringewhisker's furious blow.
"Yew don't need te tell me how te-" the stoat stopped suddenly and realized with a sudden jolt that this was just the kind of opportunity he was looking for. Turning on his heel he raced across the deck and practically jumped back into the kitchens.
"An' then they call me 'Deckswab'," Choptail was saying. "An' I know some beasts have worse names- I knew a beast called Bladder when I was younger- but it's demeanin'-"
"Oh shut up Choptail," Brown-eye snapped, bolting back up the stairs, butter-knife in paw.
Thrak was doing far better than most beasts would under the circumstances, but that was not saying much as most beasts would have already died by now. Although he was still holding the three off with some success he held no advantages and was beginning to tire.
He had thought that dueling on the deck would provide more space to maneuver around them, but the opposite had proven true as the pirate crews, spread out across the decks and suffering from extreme boredom, had closed in on the quartet- and now surrounded him. Things might have turned especially ugly were any members of Clogg or Poisonblade's crews around to throw their lot in with either side, but it seemed that none of those beasts were around.
His blade flashed forwards forcing Fleaback's flea-ridden back back. The rat swung wide to stave off Scringewhisker's approach. His eyes darted across the faceless crowd of cheering pirates, searching for escape routes. Instead he found Darkhide charging towards him, a dagger in each paw. He spun to meet her, and jabbed forwards. Sparks flew as she caught his rapier between her blades and sent it spinning from his tail's grip. Thrak spun to the side, only just dodging Scringewhisker's cutlass. Bare-fisted he swung at the ferret. A satisfying crunch told him he'd broken a nose, but the ferret swung back and Thrak lost his balance and slipped to the floor.
"It's over," Darkhide snarled, readying a knife for the finishing blow.
"OI! Out of my way! Out of my way!" Browneye shouted in his slavemaster's voice, the crowd parted and watched as the stoat tore forwards. Darkhide merely rolled her eyes and stepped to the side, her footpaw outstretched.
Predictably, Brown-eye missed his lunge, tripped over the footpaw, fell forwards against the wet deck and slid into the mast. BONK! To add insult to injury, a stray waterbucket fell from somewhere above and landed on his head.
"Ow…."
"Where were we?" Darkhide snarled, turning her attention back to Thrak.
For once the tall rat was not smiling. His eyes bulged wide with fear. "Y-you're not gonna let her kill me, are you mates?"
Most of the audience merely shrugged.
"Kill him!" One-Eye cheered.
"H-hang on, h-hang on," Thrak whimpered as Darkhide raised her knife. He dug his paw into his vest and pulled free a scrunched up parchment. The she-rat hesitated, and Thrak struck, the ghost of a smirk crossing his lips. "You want the map? Come an' get it!"
He threw a scrap of paper high into the air, and swept Darkhide's feet out from under her with a sweep of his tail.
The assembled pirates lurched forwards as one, their eyes fixed on the crumbled parchment.
Chaos descended upon the deck.
Klis sighed in contentment as he lay, leisurely, upon a swaying hammock. Gulls called overhead, a pleasant breeze ruffled his fur and the overpowering scent of salt was mixed with sand and laughter.
Turning on his side he watched as a trio of ferret kits rolled about on the sand, building castles and destroying them, splashing at each other with seawater and generally being over-excitable and misbehaved. As kits should be, he thought wryly.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Turning to his other side Klis found himself face to face with gold, rainbows, sunshine, flowers and all happy things made flesh. Swallowtail, his one true love.
"Oh Swallow…" Klis purred, cupping the jill's face in his paws. "Whatever would I do without yew?"
A loud yell startled the burly ferret awake, and blinking into reality he found himself nose to nose with a significantly less beautiful face.
"Havin' a bit of a lie-in, are we?" Clogg growled, his one good eye narrowing dangerously.
Klis swallowed and realized with a panicked widening of his eyeballs that he no longer had the letter. "I-I can explain!"
The rat drew back, rising to his full height and gesturing for the ferret to continue.
Klis threw himself upon the first excuse he could think of. "Well ye see, I-I didn't write that. B-Bork did!"
Clogg raised an eyebrow, his expression twisting into one of confusion. "Write… what?"
It took all the self-control Klis had to not sigh with relief then and there. He didn't know! He still had no idea!
"What did Bork write?" the rat snapped, his features hardening as Klis visibly brightened up.
An' now I've given him an idea! Panic once more surged through his form, but before more stupidity could slip past his muzzle the cabin door flew open.
"It's terrible Captain!" gasped a bloody-faced Bloodface. "There's a fight goin' on! An' One-Eye's gone berserk. I think he killed Left-Leg Limpy!"
"Who?" Klis cocked his head to the side.
Clogg merely growled at the top of his voice, drew a cutlass from behind his bookshelf, and stomped out towards the noises of clashing steel, snarling vermin and general fisticuffs. He paused at the door and skewered Klis with a glare. "Don't yew dare go anywhere."
Footnote: Plots! Action! Romance! Excitement! I don't have too much to say here. Minor rants about Klis not being as fun to write as the other 'main' characters (Fret, Sharpfur, Momchillo, Matiya etc etc) aside, and minor rants about Browneye being way more fun to write than Klis asiiiide, I do still have a lot of fun writing this. Enjoy!