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Hoist The Colors

1

The she-wolf that was eying him from across the tavern wore a gaudy red satin dress with a long trailing bustle, two golden hoops in her ears, a black chapeau, and a bluish glimmer in each eye. She was the woman you'd go to a tavern for but never found, the kind of woman men waste many long years for but cannot seem to find. And she was giving him the look you'd hope to find in a monsoon-bait tavern .

Captain Julius Ricardo (the Honorable) sidled down the seats that were laced around an ornate mahogany counter. The raccoon pulled out a grin and put it on, feeling like the cock of the walk. He ignored the jibber-jabber of the other people and sauntered down the chairs with an air of someone who had been sauntering for a long time.

When he was close enough the wolf gave him a wide, toothy grin and tilted her head to the door. Julius was about to make his move when the door of the tavern swung open and crashed against the wall with a resounding bang that shook the foundation of the building. The she-wolf gave a startled yelp and ran up the wooden staircase. Julius watched her go, thinking sadly of lost fish in a big, dark sea, and turned to the offender that had rudely walked in.

He was a rambunctious fox, a typical recently-promoted captain who wore his ego like his embroidered coat. There was a grin on his face that reminded Julius horribly of himself, until he realized that he was never a jackass. Some of the more inebriated drunkards milled about with their hands tapping on the hilts of their blades and pistols, but really did nothing. Julius unclipped the buckle of his sword and watched, waiting for the impetuous fool to make his first move.

The fox strolled with a bump in his hips up to the counter and put up two fingers. The bartender raised one eyebrow as he drew a tankard and then another, slamming them down onto the counter. The fox grabbed both and downed them each in one gulp. A ferret in the fit of drunken happiness began guffawing with raucous laughter. The fox pulled out his wheellock, thumbed down the hammer, and shot the weasel squarely between the eyes.

Before the mustelid hit the ground, Julius grabbed his sword and swung rapidly, clipping the fox on the hand and the ear. The young fool leapt back, holding his bleeding ear and hand (he had dropped his gun somewhere; Julius knew that if someone hadn't stolen it the instant it hit the ground they would before the hour was over). Julius grinned and flashed his sword again, slashing at the jaunty hat and sleeves of the jacket. A few more flicks of the wrist and he left the fox's uniform in tatters.

He walked out of the tavern with a bottle of rum and a smile on his face. The quartermaster of his crew, a lithe cheetah who wore a long brocaded coat, was waiting for him outside. In a flash the feline came up to him and took the rum with a respectful nod.

"Another pleasant evening, captain?"

"Could have been better, Sam. Some young deck boy spoiled my plans for the night."

"I thought so."

"Aye, but I'm feeling far too frivolous to leave it be at that. The night owes me something, Sammy! What do you say we play a little game?"

A knowing smile spread on the cheetah's white lips. "What kind of game, captain?"

"Why, Capture the Flag, of course!"

The raccoon and the cheetah made their way to the docks, drinking the fiery rum and passing the bottle to each other. Then, they stopped and spoke in low whispers.

"Right, Sammy. You go that way, and old Captain'll go t'other way here."

"Are we placing bets, captain?"

"Of course. I bet I'll get more than you, now let's quit dawdling and start pirating."

The cheetah grabbed a small barbed anchor from the confines of his coat and threw it over the waters to the neighboring ship. It struck soundlessly; Sam gave a tug, testing how taught it was. When he felt sure, the cheetah gave a small jump and started crawling up the port side of the ship. In moments, he disappeared over the railing. Captain Julius Ricardo (the Honorable) went to the other side of the pier and began his assault.

It was a small pirate vessel, most likely belonging to the murdering scoundrel that had incited his anger. There were few crew members about and the ones that were present looked to be asleep, but there was no way to be sure. He used the shadows, tiptoeing and crawling about the deck like a wraith. When he crouched behind a wooden crate, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pair of gloves. There were little nubs on the palm and fingers, as well as tiny metal spikes that would allow him to climb the mast without any difficulty, just like the trees back home.

Captain Julius climbed up the mast quickly, having done it hundreds of times before. When he was up in the crow's nest he took out a small knife and tore the flag free. He folded it four times and buried it into the sack he carried in his jacket. He climbed quickly down the mast, crept to the railing of the ship and jumped to the docks.

Thirty minutes later, he had secured four more flags and was finishing up with a fifth. His bag was bulging out of his coat now, and he realized that if he tried to get any more he would surely be spotted. In a moment, he was down on the docks and heading for his own little ship, the Nightingale. He was met by Sam, who was sporting a nifty new gash above his right eye. Over his shoulder he had slung a few flags from other vessels.

"Think we should push out, captain?" Sam asked with a wheezy breath.

"Aye, we might at that, mate."

With that they headed to the Nightingale, sporting the stolen flags and wily grins. Twenty minutes later they were situated in the captain's cabin, with much of the crew surrounding them to look at their new trophies.

Seven flags, stolen in true pirate fashion, lay spread out like laundry, their insignias white and red. There was one they came to, though, that issued an audible gasp from the viewers. It was entirely black with a white grinning skull overlapping a writhing serpent.

"Uh, captain? I think you should take that out and tuck it into the water."

"Do you, now, Smitty? And why, pray tell, would I do that? After all the trouble I took to get it, you'd expect it to rightfully belong to us, don't you?"

"Personally, sir, I wouldn't want that flag on our ship."

Captain Julius Ricardo (the Honorable) knew to which ship this particular flag belonged, and he knew who the captain of said ship was; all the more reason to steal it.

The flag belonged to the Jörmungandr, a massive juggernaut that towered over other pirate ships as well as much of the royal navy and was capable of destroying half of it before one shot would be fired from a navy ship. The war-vessel was commanded by a hulking squirrel named Arvid Bjornstad. There were few who went up against the Jörmungandr, and fewer still who wanted to oppose Bjornstad if you wished to live to a reasonable age.

This was not lost on Captain Julius Ricardo (the Honorable). In fact, he considered it all the more reason to steal the flag. It would show that Swedish bastard what the meaning of piracy was, and that some people weren't afraid of him. _Some_people weren't going to stand for a high seas dictatorship. He let this be known to his crew, who immediately applauded their captain's actions. Some still remained hesitant and gave each other withered glances, and the raccoon made a mental note to speak to them all later.

The Nightingale pushed out of the docks quietly. It headed on a direct course south, where the towns were many and fun was to be had by all.

On the stern of the Jörmungandr, two figures stood and watched the little craft slip into the night. A hardy, battle-worn lynx leaned against the rigging as he spoke. "What do we do now, sir?"

There was a silence as the squirrel flicked the remnants of his bushy tail. He stared out toward the sea with eyes that were just as dark and foreboding. Teeth which gleamed like steel blades in the moonlight shown between his cracked lips.

"Go below. Get my book," the squirrel said in a terrific baritone voice, his accent thick and heavy. The lynx nodded and went down, aware that for one brief moment his heart had stopped. When he came back, he was carrying a thick tome of aged pages. It had been bound in a cedar case and something that looked like fingernails. He gingerly presented it to the squirrel captain, holding it as though it were a large grenade about to detonate. The captain accepted his ancient book and walked to the prow of the ship.

He opened the book, running his fingers lightly through the brittle pages. After a while, he found something he liked, and began reading aloud in the rustic tongue of the Old Norse.

The lynx quickly stepped to the galley, knowing what the captain was doing. Below the Jörmungandr, the waters began to boil and froth.

2

Captain Julius walked to his cabin, his arms hanging tightly about the shoulders of two of his crewmates. They laughed and snickered about times when they've had their fill of mead and women, and told of their future plans for such things. Eventually, the raccoon managed to escape the frivolity and enter his room. It was modest accommodations, what any pirate captain could and would have in their cabin.

Julius threw off his coat and hat, unbuckled his gun and sword, and jumped onto the bed. It was the magic of sleep; a bed always felt softer after time spent reminiscing the evening away. He closed his eyes, and within a minute he was asleep.

He didn't know what it was that woke him up some time later; it might have been a dream. What he did know was that the ship was not moving as it should be. When he heard the frightened cries of his crew, he leapt out of his bed and scrambled for his gun. As he crouched down, the ship rocked violently, throwing Julius into the cabin wall. He scrambled up onto his feet and grabbed the pistol. He ran outside, unsure of what to expect.

When he threw the door aside, he saw his men running to and fro in a wild dance of confusion. Some were carrying guns, some had their blades, some were just running around. He called to his men, but was interrupted as the ship gave a tremendous heave aftward, and he was sent wheeling into the door.

"Jones!" the captain cried, looking for the first mate. "Jo--damn! Jones!"

"He's gone, captain!" one of the men answered back. Julius recognized the speaker as Timmy, the wee skunk cabin-boy. Timmy was hanging onto the mast of the ship for dear life. Julius called out to him. "Where's he gone, boy?"

"He's gone, captain!" Timmy repeated. The raccoon was about to run over to the mast when the ship rocked again. He heard a loud splashing sound off aft-ways, and something rose up out of the murky waters. Captain Julius could barely make it out against the darkness, but he saw something huge, enormous and terrifyingly big rise up against the side of the Nightingale. He ran then to the mast to make sure Timmy was alright. He had grown fond of the little snip, he supposed because the little skunk reminded him so much of himself.

He was nearly there when he heard an ear-splitting roar coming from somewhere up in the sky. Captain Julius looked up, and his stomach rose up into his throat as he saw two yellow-green orbs staring down at him. Julius could now see the greenish black skin, the catfish-like whiskers, and the rows of deadly saber-length teeth. The crew that remained on deck were struck dumb with terrified fascination.

It came at him the moment he grabbed at the mast. Julius grabbed the little skunk and twirled him around to the other side of the mast just as the huge mouth crashed down, tearing a gigantic hole in the ship. The crew began to move around now, and when Julius gave them the command to fight, only a few had heart enough to strike at the creature. Some went to the cannons, but most took out their blunderbusses and muskets and began firing.

The serpent screamed and hissed, a horrible world-shattering sound and dove back down. The men looked out over the railing to see if it was dead or not, hoping to see its floating body bobbing up and down. This was a disastrous action; the serpent tore out of the ocean like a nightmare, and in a dark moment seven headless bodies fell down to the waters below.

Captain Julius looked down at Timmy, who remained transfixed to the railing, eyes wide in disbelief. That raccoon was about to push the boy forward, to keep him out of the way while he aimed his pistol at the creature's face, when a powerful, heavy shot broke the night air. Julius looked around to see where the shot had come from. There was another shot, which shattered the mast beside them, throwing up hunks of broken wood into their faces.

"Get below!" the captain shouted.

Then he saw it; the Jörmungandr, its sails blacking out even the night as it towered to the sky and pulled up beside the Nightingale. He could see the monster Swede Arvid standing up by the railing, staring down at him with a grotesque grin. In a fit of anger, fear, and maybe that old rebellious streak that ran in all of his species, he raised his hand and made a rude gesture.

3

They tied them up against the great mast, Captain Julius Ricardo (the Honorable) and Timmy. The little skunk showed no fear, appearing resilient in the face of the enemy even when an ugly lynx slapped him roughly across the face.

Then the raccoon was face to face with the giant. The hulking squirrel glared at him with dangerous blue eyes, eyes that had lightning behind them. His large fuzzy ears were pinned back to make room for his large, bat-like hat.

"I think you have something that belongs to me," Bjornstad said, growling in a low voice. He bared his teeth, sharpened down to points. Tattoos lined the parts of his face that hadn't been scarred after years of painful living in the harsh northlands. Blacks and reds criss-crossed his orange face, giving him a demonic visage. Julius was only too happy to spit in his face. The squirrel recoiled slightly, then wiped the spittle off his cheek with a dark growl.

"Oh, aye," Julius muttered angrily. "I've got something for ya, alright."

The squirrel looked as though he were about to punch the offensive raccoon (indeed, he cracked his knuckles in precedence of the act), but he stopped himself before the urge to kill rose up inside of him. Instead, he grinned a cold and ominous smile, baring his sharpened teeth. He leaned in closer to Julius and whispered something the raccoon didn't understand. Silly Scandinavian mumbo-jumbo, Julius thought to himself.

Just then, he felt an odd tingling in the ear Bjornstad spoke into, a tickle that seemed to go through and rattle his skull. The tickle spread through his nose, making it run profusely. Julius looked down and saw the little drops of crimson on the deck of the Jörmungandr and realized with a jolt that his nose was bleeding.

He felt a streamer of wetness slide out of the one ear, then a moment later the other side of his face became wet, and Julius knew that if he had a mirror pointed at him he'd see his face ringed with blood.

Oh, this isn't good, Julius thought to himself.

"No," Bjornstad said to him. "No, it is not good for you, bastard."

Then the squirrel backhanded him across the face, a harsh strike that made the raccoon see stars for a few dark moments; blood flew onto the deck in a fine mist. Bjornstad walked to the front of the ship, his long coat billowing behind him like a writhing shadow. He spread his arms wide and began speaking in Old Norse, shouting it out to the salty Atlantic winds.

"Captain?" Timmy said. "What's happening?"

"I don't know, Tim," he mumbled. I don't want to know, he didn't say.

Suddenly, he felt the ropes around his hands loosen, and then the ones about his chest slid down a few inches. He was about to turn his head when a voice, a woman's voice, spoke to him. "When I say, head for the lifeboat."

The giant squirrel continued to shout into the open airs, and as a storm gathered force over the sails of the ship, lightning created spider web cracks in the sky. Just then, Bjornstad gave a powerful jerk forward and spat out the last few words in a gasping breath. A green light shone in the palm of his right hand, and the squirrel flung this light into the air, out into sea.

The light exploded in a flash brighter than the lightning that arced over the horizon, and Julius, who has seen some odd and virtually unexplainable things in his time, was knocked speechless as a glimmering green hole opened up in the sky.

"Captain..." Timmy muttered.

Julius felt a hand tighten on his shoulder, supposedly meant for comfort, but nothing could help eliminate the chill that crept onto him the longer he stared at the hole in the sky, the hole that the great ship was slowly heading to. The hole that, as he continued to look at it, seemed to be moving with dark shadowy things inside of it.

"NOW!"

The rope around Julius's body slid to the deck. He felt himself pushed headlong to the side of the ship. Unconsciously he reached out and grabbed onto Timmy's arm. Pistol shots rang out, somebody screamed, and in the midst of the chaos the three escapees jumped over the ship into one of the lifeboats. A knife flashed and the boat slipped down into the dark waters.

Bjornstad shouted, a gruff, choked sound you hear from men who don't shout often, or are not often surprised. The squirrel ran to where the three captives had been and peered over railing; he needed his captives alive.

The hole in the sky opened wider, and something, a thin dark tendril of glittering smoke slid out. It touched the prow of the Jörmungandr, and the ship gave a tremendous heave forward. Wood splintered and iron melted, and the crew began running around the deck. Bjornstad ran to the prow, ducking the jagged bits of the ship that flew into his face. He looked up into the hole in the sky, wondering where he had gone wrong, how all of this began happening to him when the ones that deserved this fate were down in the boat below.

The green light grew brighter, and the squirrel felt a force pull him up. The tendril reached out, destroying the ship even further. Bits of wood and iron flew up into the glowing maw, and as the tendril grabbed Arvid Bjornstad, he saw his dreams...and he saw them shatter.

They paddled quickly to get away from the ship as it was slowly being pulled up into the air and deconstructed at the same time. Timmy attacked the oar fervently, and Julius pushed and pulled as fast as he could. The Jörmungandr floated up into the glowing sky, evaporating quickly. Sometime later, when the massive war-ship was gone and the few remaining pieces floated and twirled through the air down to the dark waters, the three escapees found it necessary to speak again.

Julius looked at their rescuer, noticed the two golden hoops in her ears, the large black chapeau, and the bluish glint in her eyes. The she-wolf from the tavern looked at him as she helped push the oars, giving him a shiny smile.

"You're welcome," she said, anticipating what he was about to say before he said it.