Viewing Single Post From: When The Commanders Are Away...

Viewing Single Post From: When The Commanders Are Away...
Enamel Pardon	Jun 28 2008, 07:11 AM
Ruler of Specifics Posts: 252 Group: South Tower Guard Member #15 Joined: January 10, 2008	A day such as this should have been fair, with clear skies, a gentle breeze and, perhaps, the smell of some exotic summer flower. But weather really doesn't care a fig about narrative fancies. It was muggy and wet and hadn't stopped raining for six hours. Thick rain, the kind that came down in great splotches, like a giant waterfall. Rain like this, it didn't matter if you were below decks or being keelhauled; you got wet. S. E. Pardon did his best to enjoy it. It wasn't easy. He hated rain as much as he hated vermin. Rain covered tracks up, made your footpaws ache and got your lunch soggy. And the constant patter on his ears was nearly deafening. The old hare leaned upon the port railing of the ship Dandelion's Delight, staring at the horizon. It was, he personally thought, a rather silly name for such a decrepit, creepy ship. Especially a decrepit, creepy ship captained by an otter with more scars on his flesh than words he could pronounce. He knew he shouldn't judge Babblebrook. It was just... the entirely wrong name for the poor otter. On the rare occasions he did try to get his rasping voice out, it was just to rant about the black vermin ship and the weasel captain that had nearly strangled him to death... No, Dandelion's Delight and Captain Babblebrook had been in the wrong line when Fitting Names had been dealt out. S. E. Pardon put these thoughts away. The journey would be over soon - there, through the misty rain, was the Black Arch Fort's docks. Within a few hours he would be inside its walls, maybe only slightly damp, and he wouldn't have to step paw on another seafaring vessel until Commander Duran and his lot had gotten back from... wherever they'd gone off to. It was only for a few weeks. He could handle it. He missed his coat. The hare snorted water out his whiskers and grumbled to himself as they came closer to the docks. "I do say, if'n that scallybob levy's got even a speck'f dust on my mess jacket, oho, th'things his ears are goin' t'regret, wot!" "Hhngrt," Babblebrook grunted, giving a brief, toothy grin. The otter patted S. E. on the shoulder and moved off to grunt more directions at his crew. And the shouting he'd have to give his Long Patrol hares for being as the maggots in the bottom of a bowl of week-old skilly and duff, all huddled amidst ships clutching their stomachs... "Captain Harry!" S. E. turned and faced his second in command, who was standing smartly under the eaves of the forecastle. "Rouse that sorry lot of long-eared feedbags, th'ones with th'footpaws on th'bottom. Get 'em topside and ship-shape f'r when we make dock." A nearby nautical squirrel gave a hearty chuckle. "Good one, sir! Hah, 'ship-shape'!" "I beg your pardon?" "You mean you're Pardon, don'tcha, ahaha?" S. E. stared at him stonily. "No, I don't." The squirrel stopped laughing. "Er... well. I'll just be... carrying on, then?" S. E. Pardon had heard about puns, much in the same way he'd heard about wolverines, giant snakes, tornadoes, and free verse poetry. None of it was any good.
	Sergeant Enamel Pardon Can't keep my eyes from the circling sky Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I...my other char's a mouse: Corporal Simon Flynn

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