Rolling With the Tide

[Rinafera Woxwitty III]

The Diary of Racko Riverrider

Day One - The Third of February

Still no word from Erksta. I've found a diary in my old crew-mate's haversack; after he had walk off the plank for stealing rations at night, everything got looted... except for this. There was nothing in it, but on the last page I found some name scribbled, "Jayma" or something like that. Didn't think much of it. I figured I might as well use it for now, as I've been looking for my brother for the past three seasons and it'd be nice to keep a record of my findings. The closest I got was when I reached Adael; a large creature, possibly a dingo or something odd, named Carrack, told me that he was the Captain of the Daimyo, a ship in the Adael fleet. Finding out my brother had become a corsair was ... shocking. However, I'm still determined to find him. When I reached the Adael harbor, the ship had been burned as a result of the old captain returning to get his revenge on the otter. I couldn't find Erksta in the wreckage, and somehow I was sure he survived. He always had a knack for survival... Anyhow, I figured I should give some background as to let you know -- if you ever do read this, whoever you are -- what I'm doing, why, all of that rubbish.

When I was seven, Erksta was fourteen, and we lived with out family on Coppercastle Isle. It was ruled by a local monarch; all of our business was done by trade. The whole place was a group of sebeasts! Then, Lord Dewhurst got a little too ambitious... We realized that corsairs were raiding some of the ships headed for Mossflower. Thus, he developed a navy and set it under Admiral Percy. Percy also became a little too ambitious; he attacked a corsair's ship by the name of the Ruffian and defeated her in a great victory. However, the corsairs returned to Coppercastle in attempt at revenge, but before they arrived, a former prominent Captain who had been looked over for the position led a mutiny in the Isle. Our Isle was split in two - the Loyalists and the Rebels - and sadly, so was our family.

My father, a simple voyaging merchant, ordered Erksta and I to stay out of the streets, not to get involved in the fighting, etc. I was only seven and had no problem obeying; Erksta chose to go the other way. He declared that father was a coward and stormed out with a small dagger. I didn't see him for two seasons until he returned to the Isle as a sailor on a ship called Stormrover. The First Mate, named Kage, was becoming a bad influence on him and I could tell from the start. They started off stealing some apples from a family's orchard, but then it became serious. After the mutiny had subsided, Lord Dewhurst had died and the reigns fell to his eldest son, Septim. Septim was a rotund, sloppy, disliked, greedy otter. Erksta and Kage broke into the Castle and shot an arrow in his head; I immediately lost all hope in my brother, and they got out as quickly as possible. He was a murderer; however, four seasons ago, my father died of the pox. My mother had died two seasons before of the same thing. Before it got me, I was out of there.

I sailed for seasons on some other ships, looking for him. I heard he was with The Horde, then something called the Guardians, and then a corsair at Adael, etc. I'm still searching for him on a vessel called Bleakwhistle. It's okay, not very good earnings, but I'm a helms-beast and loving it. We're headed for Mossflower now, as that's my best bet. Probably be there in a week or so...

Day Four - The Sixth of February

Bleakwhistle's stopped in the Northern Isles. Dreadfully cold here. Blasted captain took all of the blankets for himself and is sitting in his own quarter's all nice and cozy. Some of the richer crew-mates went to inns; the rest of us, however, are sitting down in the deck, shivering and huddling together. They say we're going to tack east and head down the coast, where we'll land in what is called the Eastern Waterfront. Sounds fancy, if you ask me... Anyhow, I hope someone will be able to tell me about my brother. I know he's a corsair now or something like that, but he's my brother and the only kin I got left. Ever since Uncle Racko, whom I was named after, passed, then mother and father, I haven't had anyone. Anyhow, I'm freezing, and I'd like to put my paws back in my coat pockets to warm up. I'm pretty sure the ink is freezing over, too. Blasted winter.

Day Seven - The Ninth of February

We're almost to the Eastern Waterfont. Apparently we're docked in the Northern area of Mossflower Woods, near the ruins of Noonvale... means nothing to me, but this old Navigator - real smart, personable water vole - is trying to teach me all about the history of Mossflower and all of that. I don't know how to politely tell him to shut it, so I'll probably just say that. Blasted geezer. I find that the colder and more exhausted I get, the more cynical I become. Maybe it's the Riverrider blood in me... Uncle Racko was practically neutral. And Erksta? It may be safe to say that he's reached the other side of the boat, if you know what I'm saying. Doesn't matter if you do, though... Not like anyone's reading this...

Day Eleven - The Thirteenth of February

We've reached the Eastern Waterfront. Pretty nice place, too. Lots of boats, some shops, boatyards, and a pretty nice tavern. The "Silver Tankard" is the name, and I'm particularly fond of their Elderberry Wine. According to the recent scuttlebutt, the Guardians of Mossflower have their flagship docked here, so maybe I'll find out some more about my brother, after all. Perhaps an old friend or something. Anyway, I bartered with the Captain to give me my payment for the last three months and I'm leaving the ship. Hated it. Now I'm gonna stay here, march inland toward the Guardians' main fort and see what's going on over there. I'm up in a room at the "Silver Tankard," but I'm ready to walk downstairs and have some more of that delectable wine...

- - -

The otter closed the book and sighed, wrapping the linen strap around the cover and laying it on the bed. He would sleep there tonight, so there were no worries of leaving the journal behind. He opened the creaky, wooden door with an ominous reeee and stepped out the room. Racko quickly shuffled down the steps of the Tavern and scoured the room for any familiar -- or unfamiliar -- faces; it was almost empty except for the random sailor, all goodbeasts, too. An otter bartender kept the drinkers busy with jokes, witty puns and poems, and impressions. To his left were the barrels of ale, beer, rum, wine, all of it. To his right were private tables, where those who wanted a quieter venue than the bar could relax. However, everyone was at the bar, which he found somewhat ironic.

Racko turned and stepped up to the bar, but didn't take a seat one of the stools. "Barkeep, c'n I git summ'o'at Elderberry Wine, hm? I'll be at 'em tables..." The otter then turned and strolled back to the tables. After a few moments of silence, a mug of the delicious wine was placed on the table without a word. He mouthed a "thank you" to the Bartender, but nothing emerged from his lips. He hugged his cloak around him once again; underneath, his chest was bare. Some beige pants covered his legs and waist; an odd combination, indeed, was the otter's dark black cloak (common of the Riverrider kin) and his creamy trousers. A belt was strapped around with a small dagger, a pouch of pebbles, and a sling. He didn't expect any violence, but he kept his weapons with him at all times. The Guardians were too prominent in this area for too many vermin to be around, anyhow. And tomorrow, he would make the trek up to the Guardians' fort. Or perhaps someone would meet him here with news of his brother... The hunt was on.

[Crystal M. V. Rosepaw]

So a pirate walks into a bar. Yeah. No punch line to the joke. Because that is the punchline and the joke. And so the thoughts of Rikian J. Zarooah normally went. Bad jokes and even worse pick up lines. The fox was, indeed, a pirate. Well, he perfered 'gentleman of fortune', since he personally had a healthy dislike of violence. He just liked his 'money and shinies' more than he detested hurting others. He had, however, been able to hide this little fact from the Guardians, and was accepted. However, it was indeed hard work to keep others from knowwing that he really wasn't what he appeared.

He could only hope that the wine he bought with this money wouldn't give him a case of the loose lips. Sink ships and all that, you know?

He nudged the door, the swinging kind, open without lifting his hands from his pockets. He looked a bit ruffled, but was whistling happily to himself, some pretty tune he'd heard a maid sing in an island far off. He missed islands and the ocean; he really missed the feel of sitting in the rigging of the ship he captained and feeling the ocean breeze in his fur. He almost was sick from the fact he was tied down. But here he could get away from the home-like setting of the Guardian's fortress and... Well, drink his troubles away.

The red fox, chocolate brown ears perked happily, and the paws of the same color, now holding a few coins in each palm, were now out in front of him. He placed them down on the bar, two or three, his ebony claws clicking on the waxed wooden surface. A barmaid instantly snapped up in front of him as if he had punched a button.

"What'll it be, sir?" He couldn't help but notice that she was a pretty girl, a fox like himself, actually, just a bit older than him. He nearly smirked as she fluttered her eyelashes a bit. A responce he got often. He wasn't sure why. He didn't find himself handsome, but maybe the new 'in' thing was 'daring young pirate captain' or something. Like he cared.

The dog-fox smiled, leaning forward a bit, grinning. "Just some wine, dear. The best you've got." His ocean-blue eyes sparkled mischievously. "I'll just sit over there, alrighty?"

"Yes, sir," she said, her tone a bit... slurred. Maybe she'd been sneaking from the stock? Again, like he cared. The captain turned away, looking for somewhere to sit. All the tables had somebody at them. Strangly, one stuck his eye.

Was that... Erksta? How could it be? He'd heard many the word that Erksta had been killed protecting his army. But, then again, he'd heard word from a direct witness that Rinafera was dead. He'd seen the hare apparently rise from the dead, so why not the otter too? He was game to believe it.

"Riverrider! 'ey!" He said loudly as he trotted overly quickly. Upon looking closely as he stood over the table, he realized it couldn't be Erksta. This otter was too young. Suddenly, the barmaid, now looking sour that he had found somebody to sit with, came forward, handing him a wine of a deep ruby red. He noticed that she shamelessly pressed herself to him as she walked away and fought back the want to laugh.

"Riverrider?" he said again to the otter.

[Rinafera Woxwitty III]

The otter began to feel the pains of the lack of sleep, and his eyes soon drooped. Eyes half open, he woke with a start when someone called his name. Racko looked around, becoming hopeful that, because this person knew his name, he would know of Erksta. When he found the source of the noise, he was a little surprised. A fox? A fox-pirate? A fox-pirate who was about as conceited who was almost as conceited as Erksta? Racko chuckled to himself and beckoned the fox to join him at his table. He nodded to the fox and smiled kindly. "Aye, 'tis me, Racko Riverrider. Do y' carry news o' me brother, Erksta?"

OOC: Sorry about the length. . . or lack there-of.

[Crystal M. V. Rosepaw]

"Erksta? Oh dear, mate."

Rikian felt a pang of sorrow for the otter. The fox pulled out a chair easily with one paw while holding his wine in the other, violently throwing himself down in a practiced movement without spilling his drink as he placed it on the table. Lashing his fluffy tail, he thought hard. How did he tell this poor creature of his brother?

"Let me weave you a tale of 'our brother, mate. Erksta wasn't th' best of otters, as you more than likely know if you came here looking for answers. Erk' earned himself quite a name on the sea for both his skill and harsh but fair ways of keepin' a crew in line. But he hung up his sailin' boots and took up a place leadin' a horde." The fox took a little sip of his drink here, ears perking up quickly. Best he'd had in quite a while, actually.

"I know what you must think, but it wasn't a horde as in, a, urm, scourge. Naw, that's what you call a group of demons. One of the most respected guardians worked with 'em for a while. but something went wrong. They got themselves attacked by a big group of nasties I wouldn't even take on if they were all tied up and I had a sharp knife." Which was to say quite a bit. Rikian prided himself on being good with a knife.

"They were a good fightin' force I hear. I had a beast on my ship for a small while that worked as an agent for them a bit, and was out and about when they were attacked.When he got back, the whole place was in ruins." Rikian sighed, his deep blue-green orbs trembling and sad.

"I'm sorry, mate. Your brother died savin' his horde."


ooc; Crap post as well. D; Our example as leaders is not to be followed, kiddies. Also, Dakota (you better remember her!) mourns the death of the buff-otter, Erksta-dude. D:

[Rinafera Woxwitty III]

Racko seemed to predict the sullen words before they left the now solemn pirate. He swallowed and tried to process what he was being told, although he didn't doubt it; if Erksta had died saving his Horde and allowing them to escape. . . then he had not died in vain, and the young otter's mission was now over. Tears stung his eyes, and despite not seeing his brother since a very young age, he felt oddly close to the otter; he was a role model to the young sailor. He clasped his face in both of his paws and shook his head as the fox continued to speak. "Let me weave you a tale of 'our brother, mate. Erksta wasn't th' best of otters, as you more than likely know if you came here looking for answers. Erk' earned himself quite a name on the sea for both his skill and harsh but fair ways of keepin' a crew in line. But he hung up his sailin' boots and took up a place leadin' a horde. I know what you must think, but it wasn't a horde as in, a, urm, scourge. Naw, that's what you call a group of demons. One of the most respected guardians worked with 'em for a while. but something went wrong. They got themselves attacked by a big group of nasties I wouldn't even take on if they were all tied up and I had a sharp knife."

Racko smiled slightly at his last comment, but the story only became worse. His heavy breathing and incredible sorrow began to disallow any other sounds to enter his ears and what the fox said next, he didn't hear or care to hear. Finally, he calmed, just to hear the conclusion. "I'm sorry, mate. Your brother died savin' his horde." The otter stood up and shook his head, nodding in thanks to the bartender, and to Rikian, for carrying the news. Racko didn't seek revenge; he sought after nothing except a purpose. His parents had both died of old age and sickness, and Erksta was his last chance to seek after something, to do something significant. Now, he was just a roaming sailor with no ship. "I'm 'eaded now for 'e Guardians o' Mossflower. I 'eard 'at Erksta had been 'ere for a while, so I'll check it out. P'raps I'll undo some o' 'e bad 'at Erksta put on 'e name Riverrider. 'Ank you for 'e news."

And with that, Racko left the Tavern. He was headed to join the navy of the Guardians of Mossflower.