The Tale of the Dying Night

[Baby Jemma]

Well, this is a different sort of story. I had the idea of combining a babyfur story...with the Golden Age of Piracy. Weird idea, but I've researched a bit, figured out how things worked, and it just...took hold. It's a lot less mature than most of my stories, actually (surprising for me), buuut I maaay include some things that are a lot more AB and regression themed than I normally do (which is normally a lot). Also, there will be a bit earthier stuff, like a brothel and tavern wenches (as was in the times. Don't worry, no sexual themes aside from...motherhood themes.), so consider that the warning. I'm also admittedly not sure where the story's middle and climax are, but I have an idea about the end;I just don't know where it'll go before then. Okay, here's the first chapter:

 

Chapter One: Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls

 

The ocean in 1595 was a treacherous place, especially when one didn’t know what they were doing, and even more so when it was an area rife with danger already; the broken ships, names long since lost to the pounding waves, howling winds, and sea spray proved that without a shadow of a doubt.

 

Fortunately for Florence Goodluck, the feared - at least, she hoped she was - black-furred fox captain of the seven seas, she and her small crew knew exactly what they were doing...or so they hoped. She wore few fripperies; while she and her crew were regarded as pirates, welcomed at Tortuga by fellow pirates, they weren’t a very wealthy or successful crew, having gotten few prizes over the time they were active. She and her crew wore simple, short, homespun dresses, ragged and torn from years on the sea.

 

“Tack to port!” she called out in a high soprano, as she took the lookout point, seeing her crew of big cats maneuver the Catastrophe (her idea to let the crew, having known her lifelong friends since they all lived on the docks of Dover, England as orphans, know how much she appreciated them, especially since they unanimously voted her captain.) with Emma Everard, the stoic snow leopardess helmscat at her customary spot at the wheel. Not that the fox minded the lookout and rigging jobs; she never ordered her crew to do anything that she wouldn’t do, and she knew that Emma was better at the wheel than she could ever be.

 

“Move port, bring the riggings up!” Grace Wythinghall, the powerful pantheress roared out, as was her right as quartermistress, helping the crew move away from the bow of a half-sunken ship, the stench of rotting wood in the air as a cold, heavy mist began to roll in.

 

Florence sniffed the air, with most everything, even the familiar sea spray scents, fading into the furling mists. She realized that it could be a quest that ended all of their lives. No pirate had ever gotten this treasure, mostly because of silly and stupid superstitions that the older folk believed in. But she truly believed that she and her crew would be the first, and it would propel them to fame, glory…and mostly peace.

 

Maybe because we’re the most desperate, that we have absolutely nothing to lose, she thought to herself. They were all veterans of the seas for a decade, and yet none of them were over the age of twenty-three, having lived hard lives as pirates, spending almost all of that decade in the bosom of their small frigate, rocked to sleep by the waves, avoiding privateers (those damned hypocrites, no better than they were…only with a letter of marque by the kings and queens of countries allowing them to prey on those weaker than them), fellow pirates, and legitimate navy ships that could’ve sunk them and sent them straight to Davy Jones.

 

All Florence wanted was to retire. She was tired of the sea, tired of the dangers, tired of starving, and she wanted to put down roots somewhere on an island where the most she’d see of the ocean was occasional fishing, with more money than she knew how to spend.

 

“Florence, I can’t see anything in this mist!” Agnes Coulthurst cried out, the cougaress’s tail lashing in annoyance, bringing her back to the moment.

 

“Hold steady!” the black fox called.

 

“Are you absolutely sure, Flory?” Denise Parkham called out; the lynx boatswain's voice tinged with terror. This was not a natural mist; the conditions for mist weren’t there; hell, it was far too cold for the normal spring weather of the Caribbean, and frost began to creep on the sails.

 

“Do NOT call me ‘Flory’!” Florence snapped. “Hold steady unless I say!”

 

A cheetah was scratching her claws on the ship deck, whimpering, “We’re going to crash into one of those ships-”

 

“AVIS, WE ARE NOT GOING TO CRASH! TRUST ME!” the black fox shouted. “That goes for everyone! We are going to make it through! Have I ever led you wrong before?! Hold - damn - steady!”

 

“You heard the captain!” Grace roared; the fox had to admit that the vocal cords of the quartermistress was a much louder sound that almost seemed to cut through the mist. “Hold steady until she says!”

 

All eleven animals held their breaths, as if the very act of breathing would cause the water to hear and consume them. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a sword.

 

Then Millicent Huchenson and Winifred Daundelyon, a serval and caracal as close as twin sisters (even though they weren’t actual sisters like the Rowes) heard a faint roar coming in front of them, their especially keen ears pounding with blood, and both of them screamed in terror, holding each other.

 

Florence heard the faint roar as well, heard the sailmaker and cooper scream, and immediately bellowed, “DROP ANCHORS AND FURL SAILS RIGHT NOW!”

 

Her crew reacted quickly, knowing that their lives depended on it. Whether Lady Luck existed or not, they knew one thing: they were lucky, for the roar was coming from a waterfall that plummeted down into nothingness - the anchors had managed to cling to rocks just in time to save them from going over.

 

“This has to be the goddamned end of the world…” Isabel Hornboldt moaned pitifully, the jaguaress who served as the navigator unsheathing and sheathing her claws. “There’s nothing on my maps that says anything about a goddamned waterfall!”

 

“That means we’re close to The Dying Night!” Florence shouted, her eyes alight with recognition. “Don’t you girls remember what the legend said?”

 

“Other than some voodoo witch that cursed the pirates who killed her husband?” Sybil Rowe asked curiously, the tigress carpenter looking straight at her lioness sister, Cecily's eyes.

 

“And they were never heard from again? And that everyone who tried to find this treasure died?” the gunner finished in a dour tone.

 

“Cecily, Sybil, curses aren’t real!” the fox captain snorted to herself. Curses? Ridiculous. And they were a much better crew than those that had died; hadn’t they proved it by surviving until now? “Anyway, it’s at the bottom of the waterfall.”

 

“Well, unless you plan on jumping off, I’d love to hear ideas, Flory!” Agnes snapped.

 

“Always grumbling, Agy, always grumbling about something!” Florence retorted, inwardly seething about the childish nickname uttered by the cook. “Don’t you know that there are tributaries that lead downward? Or did you forget about the legend entirely?”

 

The cougaress’s face flushed in annoyance, but Avis Ballett was quick to say, “But we can’t see anything in the mist!”

 

Florence sighed, quickly wrapping a rope around her paw and stepping off of her perch, down to her crew from the crow’s nest, using her weight to counterbalance and land safely on her paws. Her crew had seen her do it so many times that they were no longer afraid for her safety…but they didn’t dare try it themselves. They would follow her anywhere…except with that; some things were just a death wish.

 

“That’s why the legend is called ‘The Dying Night,’” the fox explained, mostly to the cheetah musician, but to the rest of the crew as well. “We wait until dawn; that’s night’s death, that’s when the mist will clear up and reveal the tributaries. Then we go down to them, find the ship, get the loot, divide it, and get out as rich women.”

 

“You’re placing an awfully big bet on a mere legend, Flory,” Denise mused, her paw drumming on the side rail.

 

“Enough with that stupid nickname! We know it’s real, Denise, there’s enough evidence to prove it, especially since it's here in front of our eyes.” Florence’s green eyes were desperate. “You’re my crew; I’d go down with and for you any day, and you know that, but we can’t be pirates forever. This could be the one. This could be the treasure that we could retire with and live like queens.”

 

“I’d settle for a family.” All heads turned to face Isabel, who looked sad.

 

“We’re family, Izzy,” Grace gently coaxed.

 

“No, I meant…we stole this ship from the privateers together, and we're as close as we can get without being blood…but I want something…tangible,” the jaguaress said with a sigh. “No insult meant to you girls, but we see each other every day, every time I wake up on this ship. I’ve heard every argument we could ever hear. I want a different voice.”

 

“Get enough money, and you could buy a family,” Florence said with a smirk.

 

“Florence, not everything’s about scoring that big loot.” To the black fox’s shock, it was Emma that said those words, the normally quiet snow leopardess having a faraway look in her eyes. “I’d love a family myself. We all grew up as orphans; I wanted to know my mom for years. She died, you know. Died in childbirth. Dear ‘Dad’ left me on the docks. We all have similar stories, Florence, even you. Haven't you ever wanted someone to hold you, to love you, no matter what?”

 

Florence sighed angrily. “Look, you want a mommy to feed you, pay a damn wetnurse. Those times are done, and you can’t ever go back. What’s done is done. We’re here right now, so let’s focus on our goal right now." She took a deep breath and rubbed the fur on her temple - a tic that she had when she was trying to calm herself down. "Anyway, we’re all tired, so get some sleep until dawn. Millicent, Winifred, take the first watch.”

 

The fox’s crew looked at her…and let out collective sighs, knowing they weren’t going to change her mind; she could be quite stubborn. It was the trait that brought them this far, and the trait they loved and hated. But she was right, in a way: she had never steered them wrong, had always kept them safe.

 

“Yes, Cap’n,” they chorused.

 

They gathered their ragged blankets, shivering as, one by one, they fell asleep in the cold mist, their dreams right in front of them…one way or another.

 

-

 

Okay, quick explanation about the specific jobs of this crew on their frigate (a smaller ship used in the Golden Age of Piracy):

 

Captain - Democratically elected on pirate ships, believe it or not, although they could just as easily have command stripped of them. In most cases, the captain was the brains, the one who got the ship through fair or foul means. The most successful captains could install rules on the ship.

 

Quartermaster (quartermistress, in this case) - Also democratically elected, the quartermasters were the seconds-in-command of the ship, unlike various the various legitimate vessels (even though the pirates had first and second mates). They were the crew's answer to the pirate captain, sharing their concerns, and being an intermediatory for the captain to give orders to the crew. If the captain had taken another vessel and wanted to start a fleet, the quartermaster would be the captain of that ship.

 

Navigator - Even though the captain and quartermaster often had knowledge of navigation, a pirate ship might have a dedicated navigator. With a good navigator, the captain would know where merchant ships struck, could navigate islands and shallows, that sort of stuff.

 

Boatswain (bosun) - The supervisor of the various seamanship stuff around the ship, monitored the stores, and ensured sails, anchors, and rigging were in good condition. On larger ships, they'd have people under them.

 

Carpenter - The carpenter was the one who was responsible for fixing leaks around the ship, making various repairs, and refitting captured vessels for the purposes of the pirates. They were also responsible for a lot of the, ah...immediate surgeries (i.e., amputations) in the absence of a surgeon.

 

Cooper - The cooper was responsible for assembling barrels, used to keep wet stores, dry stores, gunpowder, water, rum, etc. from spoiling, making them airtight, fixing buckets, etc. Normally on larger ships, but I figured I could make a slight exception.

 

Sailmaker - Sailmakers were basically the chief engineer on a ship, used to stitch and make sails, which, without them, ships went nowhere. In the absence of a surgeon, sailmakers were also responsible for stitching wounds shut.

 

Gunner - The gunner was responsible for the cannons, how much gunpowder was necessary for to hit the target, who shouted the order to fire. Gunner teams (four to six men) were required to be accurate and speedy, and they were outfitted with a lot of guns.

 

Cook - Yes, even pirate ships had cooks. Normally, they were ones with amputations (not here), but while they stole food stores from the ships they captured, and ate from taverns, yes, cooks were needed to prepare food and rum.

 

Musician - Yes, pirates had musicians like fiddlers and trumpeters. Like in others, they created rhythms for shanties, to aid in manual task, and to entertain, but they also contributed to a cacophony of noise during attacks.

[Panther Cub]

Excellent start and introduction of the various crew. And loved that bit of foreshadowing, especially the mentioning of wetnurses... Can't wait to read more!

[Baby Jemma]

18 hours ago, Panther Cub said:

Excellent start and introduction of the various crew. And loved that bit of foreshadowing, especially the mentioning of wetnurses... Can't wait to read more!

Thank you! I'm hoping to delve further into the characters of the crew with this next chapter. And foreshadowing?   Maaaybe?

Anyway, I've come up with another chapter (I'm really on a roll, haha~) Enjoy, everyone~

-

Chapter Two: A Mutiny Quelled

-

The mist and frost were creeping up the mast and timbers of the Catastrophe like hungry slugs, as Winifred stretched out her limbs, claws extended, trying to regain some warmth in them. She and Millicent were doing first watch, and the caracal felt a sense of relief; it meant a sleep that wasn’t interrupted afterward. Of course, she and Millicent had to keep quiet with their voices, so as not to wake the rest of the crew - and it didn’t help that it was colder than a witch’s breast.

 

“I’ve never seen Flory like this before, Winnie.” Winifred turned to her serval best friend, who had spoken and looked genuinely concerned. “It’s like nothing else matters, except that treasure. You think Sibby and Ceecee are right? That the treasure’s cursed, and it’s affecting Flory?”

 

“Millie…I don’t know.” The caracal rubbed the frost out of her eyes with a weary paw. “I really don’t know. But Flory’s kept us safe thus far. She’s never put us in danger or in situations we can’t handle. She’s tried very hard on that. I just…I don’t know. I’ve never seen her like this either. Snapping at Emmy like that…it’s not like her.”

 

Millicent looked down at her paws, her tail flicking around in tense anticipation. “She just…all of us want a family. All of us have wanted a family of our own because we never had that…but…she just seems to hate the thought of it. Why?”

 

“Millie, you know none of us know that. Not even me.”

 

Both medium-sized cats almost jumped out of their fur when they heard Grace’s steady contralto, and the pantheress raised a paw to calm them.

 

“Sorry, couldn’t sleep; it’s just too damn cold. But…Flory keeps her private life private, under lock and key in a chest with weights that she’s sunk to Davy Jones’ Locker. We’re not stupid; something happened to her to make her this way. But we’re not going to find out. We’re her family, in her eyes, and I don’t want to lose all of the trust she has in us.”

 

“Jeysus, what the hell are you all gabbing about?” Millicent and Winifred jumped again, seeing all of the crew awake, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes…except for Florence. Agnes had spoken, the cougaress’s eyes rolling with annoyance, as she let out a giant yawn, showing her fangs. “I dunno how anyone can sleep with that racket and the damnable cold. It’s too cold to sleep.”

 

“Agy, you have anything to eat?” Avis whined a bit, the cheetah curling her tail around her chest to get warmth. “I’m hungry…”

 

“You know the stores are long since gone, Avi,” the cougar said, her eyes still hardened, yet her voice belying an inner softness before sweet turned back to sour again. “Maybe that treasure is the key. Hell if I know, but what I don’t know is why our captain has lost her goddamn mind to try to go off of a myth instead of something more productive, like merchant ships. Merchant ships, you could at least steal the rum and stored food. You can’t cook diamonds, can’t boil gemstones - that is, if they haven’t already been pilfered.”

 

“Judging by all of the dead ships here, I don’t think anyone else made it,” Isabel said, her claws tapping on the deck. “Everyone avoids this area like the plague. Maybe it is cursed. Maybe it’s a ghost ship. But we’re lucky to have made it this far. I’ll give credit to Flory on one thing: she’s gotten us this far. I’m willing to see it through.”

 

“Her stubbornness is going to be the end of us, Izzy,” Agnes insisted, her voice low so as not to wake the black fox who was growling in her sleep. “We nearly died. Credit to Emmy for her steering-” The cougaress nodded to the snow leopardess with respect, “-and credit to us for managing to get the anchors down in time to prevent us from impending death. We’re probably more like lucky than anything.”

 

“We haven’t been very lucky when it comes to scores as of late, though,” Denise pointed out diplomatically. “We need all of what Lady Luck has to give us; we’re owed a bit.”

 

“We’re not owed anything, Deedee,” Isabel said. “Nobody has owed us anything; we have made our own luck. But who knows? Maybe things will change.”

 

“And maybe fish will fly like eagles and birds swim like sharks,” Cecily said dourly, the tip of the lioness’ tail twitching.

 

“You don’t know that, Ceecee,” Winifred retorted. “Maybe this gets us rich.”

 

“We’re chasing a ghost, Winnie, and we’re going to be ghosts as well if we keep going like this,” Sybil said with a resigned sigh, the tigress covering her face with her paws. “We haven’t got a plan aside from maybe rowing down the rivers, the treasure’s probably cursed, and even if the treasure isn’t cursed, we don’t even have maps to get out once we get it.”

 

“Let’s not be pessimistic, Sibby,” Millicent said.

 

“I’m looking at this realistically. Our captain’s led us into a death trap.” Sybil was shaking and couldn’t get the rest of the words out.

 

“We’re all going to die here,” her sister finished bluntly, causing Avis to whimper in fear.

 

“I say we take the first opportunity and get out of here,” Agnes said. “Damn what our captain thinks; I’m not dying in this cold place. I’m not adding my corpse to all of the dead here.”

 

Both lioness and tigress siblings were nodding with Avis tentatively raising a paw, but Grace let out a low warning growl.

 

“I understand your concerns, but I do not tolerate mutiny,” the pantheress said, her deep voice carrying an edge.

 

“Gracey, maybe we should consider-” Avis pointed out, before Grace snarled and cowed the cheetah, the pantheress’s tail lashing side to side.

 

“We are not mutineers. Flory - our captain, our friend - has not led us wrong yet. Who got us out of poverty on the docks to freedom on the open seas? Flory did. Who came up with the plan to steal the Catastrophe from the British privateers and succeeded without even a single hitch in that plan? Flory did. Who came up with the code that has kept us alive? Flory did.”

 

“But-” Sybil began, before Isabel cut her off, saying, “Who has kept us fed and sheltered to the best of her ability, even before herself? Flory has.”

 

“Izzy, you can’t-” Cecily started before Denise interrupted, “Who has sworn to do everything we do, to never ask us to do anything she wouldn’t do herself, and has kept every promise she made? Flory has.”

 

“That doesn’t mean she isn’t wrong on this, Deedee,” Agnes growled.

 

“And if she’s right, this makes us rich women, richer even than anything beyond our wildest dreams.” All heads turned to face Emma, the quiet snow leopardess rarely speaking, but when she deliberated to talk, everyone listened.

 

The vast majority of the crew, even Avis, were nodding along with Emma’s words, and even though Agnes looked angry, and Cecily and Sybil looked fearful, even they were backing off of their earlier thoughts, with Agnes licking her paw nonchalantly.

 

Grace’s deep calming voice gave the final verdict. “We wait until dawn. If the mist still hasn’t cleared up, I’ll ask our captain to turn us around myself. If the mist clears, we listen, and follow her to hell and back.”

 

With those words, the crew curled up with their blankets, while Florence was waking up from her usual nightmare with a jolt, the terror in her blinking eyes - only there for a heartbeat before turning back to stubborn determination - the only sign that she was affected. It was her usual nightmare, nothing to worry about. It was in the past, and she didn’t dwell on the past, not when there was so much to look forward to. Like dawn, for instance.

 

“Guess I’ll take the full shift,” the black fox muttered to herself, her eyes open like twin moons as she relaxed against the mast, waiting for the mist to clear, for the frost to recede, not realizing just how close her dreams had come to being dashed.

 

Had she realized that her quartermaster had quelled a potential mutiny, if she had known what would happen to her and her crew…maybe she would’ve ordered the ship to turn back anyway. Maybe she would’ve gone for an easier target, something much less ambitious.

 

But as the dawn crept in from the shadows of the moon, as the mist vanished like smoke on the wind, and the frost on the wood turned to morning dew…it was far too late to turn back, and it would be something she and the others would dwell on for the rest of their lives.

 

-

Hope y'all enjoyed~

[Panther Cub]

OOOOH! Excellent new installment!

Though, I do think at one point you got Minnie and Winnie mixed up near the beginning. But other than that, it looks like smooth sailing... well, not necessarily for the crew of the Catastrophe, but you get my point... I predict some rather... soggy sailing in their collective near futures instead... :3

[Baby Jemma]

19 hours ago, Panther Cub said:

OOOOH! Excellent new installment!

Though, I do think at one point you got Minnie and Winnie mixed up near the beginning. But other than that, it looks like smooth sailing... well, not necessarily for the crew of the Catastrophe, but you get my point... I predict some rather... soggy sailing in their collective near futures instead... :3

Actually, I did not mix them up; Millicent was the one speaking, but Winifred had turned to face her...but you did point out that it was vague who was speaking, so thank you so much, Panther~ And...well, definitely a lot more than just soggy~ :3

 

Anyway, here comes the third chapter:

-

Chapter Three: A Sea Shanty.

-

 

“HEY!”

 

Grace was having a good dream when Florence’s high-pitched soprano cut through. The pantheress groaned, getting to her paws, when she saw the black-furred vixen looking down at her with a smug look on her face.

 

“It’s night’s death,” Florence said with a smirk, “and there’s no more mist.”

 

Grace felt so tired…but the captain was right. The mist had vanished, revealing an absolutely beautiful forest with a river that was big enough for their frigate to pass through to their immediate left. She got to her paws unsteadily, towering over her captain, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“Everyone, stir your paws; we have a lot of rowing ahead of us!” the pantheress roared, shocking every one of the crew into wakefulness.

 

Agnes glowered at Grace, but she ignored the cougaress and got an oar out, ready to row alongside Florence.

 

“Told you this was it, didn’t I?” Florence whispered with a snicker. “We’re all going to be so rich-”

 

“If someone hasn’t already pilfered the ship before, Flory,” Agnes said, sniffing in disdain.

 

“HOW MANY GODDAMNED TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU ALL NOT TO CALL ME THAT?! HOW - MANY - GODDAMNED - TIMES?!”

 

All of the felines were shocked at the reaction from the vixen captain. Not that she had shouted at them (part of being on a ship was that shouting was not only expected, but necessary), not that she had told them not to call her by that name (even though they would say it behind her back), but by the flowing tears in her eyes that leaked down her face, for Florence never cried. She quickly wiped them away, rubbing the fur on her temple again.

 

“Sorry, I just…there’s treasure to get to.” The steely-eyed look of sheer determination was back. “If I have to go on a rowboat alone to bring it back, I will. But I’m not leaving without this. This is our time. Let’s shine like the constellations in the sky, okay, ladies?”

 

The crew gave a collective sigh and got to their oars.

 

“Hey, Avi, give us a tune, all right?” Grace’s voice boomed, as the cheetah, the only animal not rowing, brought out a fiddle and started a small shanty in a beautiful soprano tone.

 

“I thought I heard the old bird say, ‘Leave him, Janey, leave him.’ Tomorrow, ye will get your pay-"

 

“And it’s time for us to leave him!” the rest of them sang, getting in tune, rowing down the largest river, as the leafy forest quickly passed by in shades of green. “Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!”

 

“Oh, the wind was foul, and the sea ran high-”

 

“Leave him, Janey, leave him!”

 

“He shipped it green an’ none went by-”

 

“And it’s time for us to leave him!” The river’s rapids were drowned out by the singing. To Grace, it almost seemed like the Catastrophe was in a whirlpool spiraling downward, except it was more…peaceful than a whirlpool. Maybe it was them singing? Who knew? “Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him, Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!”

 

“I hate to sail on this rotten tub-”

 

“Leave him, Janey, leave him!”

 

“No grog allowed and rotten grub-”

 

“And it’s time for us to leave him!” Grace saw something with her keen eyes. A lake? Maybe… “Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him, Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!”

 

“We swear by rote for want of more-”

 

“Leave him, Janey, leave him!”

 

“But now we’re through, so we’ll go onshore-”

 

“And it’s time for us to leave him! Leave him, Janey, leave him! Oh, leave him, Janey, leave him! For the voyage is long, and the winds don’t blow, and it’s time for us to leave him!”

 

They had gotten to a giant lake, the waterfall crashing down in a cascade of rainbows, the sunlight clear.

 

“This…this is not on any map I’ve ever done,” Isabel said, her face pale.

 

“This is the legend!” Florence’s tone was filled with excitement, almost a squeak before she cleared her throat. “This is it. Now let’s search for the ship, a league away from the waterfall, directly. Emma, take the helm! Isabel, your telescope! Everyone else, half sails!”

 

“You heard the captain, half sails!” Grace’s voice boomed.

 

The winds were surprisingly gentle, almost like a summer breeze than a spring gale, and they carried the Catastrophe. Grace then overheard a whispered conversation between the lioness and tigress sisters.

 

“What if it’s…taking us there?” Cecily whispered. 

 

“What do you mean ‘taking’?” Sybil whispered back to her sister.

 

“Like…the winds are far too gentle and the waves too light. This is the beginning of spring, everyone knows the story that goes with it. Harsh winds, rain, heavy waves…this has none of that.”

 

“So you’re saying this treasure wants to be found?”

 

“I’m saying this isn’t close to being natural. I don’t know if it’s a curse, but…”

 

“It’s good luck!” Florence had finally overheard, clapping both sisters on their backs in excitement.

 

Grace had not wanted to step in…for the sisters did have a point. The weather had changed far too quickly. The river had taken them down to the lake far too quickly. It was a little suspicious, to say the least.

 

What if it’s the curse? she thought. What if that voodoo woman wanted the curse to continue, continue seducing the pirates that killed her love? What were the words she said for that curse? What were the words…?

 

But as much as the pantheress searched her mind for the answers…it floated away, a scrap of paper on the wind, fluttering into the heavens for God to read. The words were right there, but she had no luck remembering.

 

This is not right…something about all of this is very, VERY wrong…

 

“Captain Florence?” she said to the vixen, whose paws were holding a telescope to peer in the distance.

 

“Yes, Grace?” She had not moved from her position, her eyes still fixed to the telescope.

 

“I just…don’t you think it’s a tad…odd?”

 

“Odd?”

 

“Yes. The weather’s changed for the better, the river’s taken us down without a single shallow, it’s just…are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

 

“Are you saying there’s a so-called ‘curse’, Quartermistress?” The terse tone cut through the air, as the crew watched the two talk, the silence from all but vixen and pantheress so still that one could’ve dropped a feather on a field of grass and it would’ve made a sound.

 

“I’m saying that we should tread with massive caution. Surely you heard of the words regarding this?”

 

“Quartermistress, I don’t give a damn what you or the rest of the crew think about a supposed 'curse'.” Grace took a step back in shock as Florence snapped the telescope shut to glare daggers at her, her yellow eyes barely able to meet her captain’s green gaze. “There is no such thing. It’s a bunch of superstitious drivel by old pirates past their time that I don’t have patience for, that I’ve never believed in. We are a skilled, clever, and - yes - a very lucky crew to have the weather shift for the better after getting here, but don’t give me any shit about curses.

 

“This is a score for us, we’re lucky, we will get to retire early, and nobody will bother us ever again. We will NEVER go hungry ever again! We will NEVER want for anything ever again! And if you and the rest want to pursue the life of a family, that’s all well and fine, but I’m going to be spending my time with my share of the treasure ALONE! I am SICK AND TIRED of being second-guessed by EVERYONE HERE! IF THIS IS FAMILY-” the word spat out with so much venom that the entire crew bit their lips to stop from crying. “-I WANT NO PART OF IT! IF THIS IS FAMILY, I’M BETTER OFF ALONE!”

 

Grace was crying at this point…but she noticed that the black fox was crying as well.

 

Only Emma had seen what was ahead. The snow leopardess bellowed, “SHIP AHEAD!”

 

“There, now will you stop second-guessing me, all of you?” Florence snapped, as the ship came into view, as the crew milled around, staring at the vessel in shock.

 

It was a giant galleon, astonishingly looking quite well for the time it had been there, the black-painted teak woods gleaming in the sunlight. The anchors had been lowered, and barnacles had grown on the underside and the metal. The sails were torn, no, ripped to shreds, as if by some wild beast. It dwarfed the Catastrophe by a large amount.

 

“Emma, wheel around the anchors, settle to its starboard!” Florence shouted out. “The rest of you, get a gangplank to board. Jump to it!”

 

The Catastrophe had found The Dying Night.

 

The captain and crew would soon wish they had left it well enough alone.

 

-

 

Well, this is a real (and very old) sea shanty (my favorite from AC4: Black Flag, XD), called "Leave Her, Johnny". Yes, the song is normally talking about the ship, and yes, ships are always female, but I couldn't resist doing a bit of a gender turn. Not for the ship, but the song.

 

But yes, I'm excited to get this chapter out to you guys. Until next time~

[Baby Jemma]

Well, time for the next chapter of The Tale of the Dying Night. Hopefully this it to y'all's satisfaction~

 

-

Chapter Four: A Ghost Ship

-

 

The gangplank had to be raised for the Catastrophe to reach the top of the ghost galleon. Thankfully, Sybil was a solid carpenter and managed to get a few extensions to help it reach.

 

Florence was the first to board, and the second she did, she felt a supercharged jolt go through her, as nothing about the galleon made sense. It seemed to be abandoned completely, with no cannons, only one door (the captain’s quarters; there wasn’t even any sign of a deck below), and an odd, yet strangely familiar smell in the air that her nose couldn’t figure out.

 

The vixen sighed. They wouldn’t find the treasure by standing around.

 

“Is everyone getting on?” she called to Grace.

 

“Yeah, we’re coming, we’re coming!” The crew, either scared of their captain’s shouting match, curious about the abandoned ship themselves, or both, all clambered on the gangplank, getting on board the galleon.

 

The smell was almost overpowering to Florence at this point, and yet she couldn’t even describe it. Why was it so familiar…?

 

“WAIT, WHERE THE HELL IS OUR SHIP?!”

 

Florence raced over to the starboard side where Millicent and Winifred were. The Catastrophe was gone.

 

“Did our ship sink?” the black vixen demanded.

 

“No, there’d be bubbles, signs that she sank,” Emma said, the snow leopardess’s eyes showing a rare sign of emotion: fear. “Nothing. She just…vanished.”

 

“Ships don’t vanish! She’s somewhere…keep searching! I’m going into the captain’s quarters, see if there’s anything there.”

 

Florence barged into the captain’s quarters…only to see a long hall with a door at the end of it.

 

Is this a jest?

 

Then the door slammed behind her without any warning. She looked back for a moment...before moving forward towards the door ahead. Always go forward, never back; that was her personal motto.

 

Nothing to do but go forward.

 

She walked at a brisk pace, and yet the hall seemed to go on longer, a terrified voice in her head telling her not to go further.

 

Florence, are you sure this is natural?

 

It’s the treasure, shut up.

 

But-

 

SHUT UP!

 

The black vixen ran towards the door angrily, only to see it tease her by stretching out further. The terrified feeling in her mind was screaming, but she swallowed it down and leapt towards the door…only to slam into it when it had moved without warning.

 

She swore like a furious sailor (and she knew plenty enough words, having spent her entire life amongst ex-sailors), holding her bleeding snout, licking the blood off of her fur and paws with her tongue, dancing around with pain. When she was done, she took the handle and opened the door.

 

Her brain stopped working for a second.

 

Her eyes widened in sheer awe.

 

Her brain told her eyes that this couldn’t be real, to look again.

 

Her eyes told her brain that they were definitely looking, that this was definitely real.

 

It was a room. Just a nondescript room with only one thing that separated it from the other nondescript rooms of the world: treasure.

 

The treasure of The Dying Night was more than anyone could’ve ever imagined, beyond even Florence’s wildest dreams. Gold and silver of all kinds - coins, bars, goblets, necklaces, anything one could imagine - filled the room to the top, spilling out to her boots. Gemstones of all different colors dazzled within the gold and silver coins. Diamonds bigger than her paws; rubies, sapphires, emeralds, topaz, peridots, all of them as big as oranges. 

 

Dear God…this is…this is it! she thought excitedly. And it’s all ours.

 

No, it’s all YOURS, a selfish part of her mind said. None of the others believed. Why shouldn’t it be yours? It’s not that they’ve ever done anything other than second guess you, doubt everything you say, even after everything you’ve done for them, even after all of the freedom you gave them. You’re the only one who believed in it all along. Why not you?

 

But…they’re my friends. They deserve to share.

 

Then you get the biggest share. You’re the captain, it’s yours by right. They get enough to start their stupid families. You get to live in luxury.

 

Hmm…you…have a point…but not too much?

 

No. Take it all, put it on the Catastrophe. It’s only one room full of treasure; you’ll have plenty of room on your ship.

 

But…

 

No buts! You can get this treasure on your ship, be a rich woman for the rest of your life, do whatever you want, with nobody to tell you “no”!

 

That does sound awfully tempting…

 

Then do it. Get the treasure on your ship. Give your merry band of cutthroats their meager share, take all of the rest, as is your right as captain.

 

Well…okay…

 

“CREW, I FOUND IT!” she shouted, opening the door behind her…to see the deck of The Dying Night, her crew staring at her in shock as coins spilled out.

 

“Florence…we found it…” Grace whispered in shock.

 

“No. I found it,” the vixen growled. “Therefore, I get the biggest share.”

 

“That’s not how our code works!” the pantheress sputtered, her eyes wide with stunned disbelief at what her captain was saying. “Equal shares! Equal rights!”

 

“REALLY? THEN WHO FOUND THE DAMN TREASURE? ME! I OPENED THE DOOR TO IT; YOU MERELY STOOD THERE AND WATCHED!”

 

“Florence, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but this stops NOW!” Grace towered over Florence as she snarled at her captain. “We’ll take the treasure…but it WILL be equal shares, as according to the code you set!”

 

The quartermistress’s voice got to something in her, and her eyes widened in shock. “Sorry, sorry, I don’t…I don’t know what came over me. It’s the first big score we’ve had, and I guess…I guess I lost my head. I’m sorry…”

 

“It’s okay, just…we all believe in you,” Avis said, the cheetah giving the vixen a quick hug. “It’ll be all right. We’ll have enough to do whatever we want.”

 

“The Catastrophe’s back!” Denise’s voice called…from the port side.

 

The crew ran over to the port side, quickly noticing their beloved frigate, confused for a bit.

 

“Wait, why is our ship on the opposite side?” Sybil asked.

 

“We docked at the starboard side…” Cecily said nervously.

 

“Let’s get it all on, then!” Florence shouted in a giddy tone.

 

“Will we have enough room?” Denice asked, the lynx’s short tail curled between her legs. “That’s…a lot of treasure. And we still have to find room for food and drink…”

 

“We did not come all this way, go through all of that danger to halftail everything and take less than what we deserve!” the black vixen growled. “We’re taking it all. I want to see everything, down to the last silver coin, on our ship. Let’s get moving!”

 

The crew sighed, seeing the fox’s typical stubbornness come out again and quickly followed the order. Both captain and crew had gotten the chests from their ship, packing every bit of treasure they could find in, and when the daylight was fading, they had loaded the Catastrophe.

 

Florence looked at the dilapidated galleon with the odd scent one last time with a strange emotion in her mind: regret. She was a fine ship, at one point, fitting for a pirate king or queen. What had happened to her to make it this way? Where was her crew?

 

“That ship and her crew stole everything from me.”

 

Florence whirled around, looking for the voice in confusion. It wasn’t any of her crew’s voices; it was old, raspy…wise.

 

“Just imagining things,” the vixen said with a laugh, as she boarded her ship with her crew. She was going to leave this ship behind forever, get rich from the treasure, do whatever she wanted.

 

The scent had carried over to the Catastrophe, and recognition came to Florence’s mind. She knew what the smell was. It was something she had thought she would never smell in her life again.

 

“Why does everything smell like baby powder?” Isabel asked.

 

“It’s just corn starch, Izzy,” Agnes growled. “Probably part of the dead ship, probably all the crew had to eat before they died themselves.”

 

“No, I mean, this is…definitely corn starch used for baby powder,” the jaguaress insisted.

 

“Oh, tosh-oo!” the cougaress sniffed and sneezed.

 

“Bless ya-choo!” Grace sneezed.

 

The crew was sneezing uncontrollably from the smell, almost choking on it, before it overpowered them, and the mist swirled over the ship, making it impossible to see.

 

Florence could hear a loud voice burning a brand in her brain before everything went dark, and the voice echoed in the black.

 

“You pirates are all the same. You took away my husband, my light, the love of my life. Not satisfied with that, you took our baby from me as well. Well, I am not cruel like you. You will find love yourselves if you take but a single coin…but it will not be the love you expect. And you will never be able to hurt anyone ever again. This is your curse, from now until the end of days.”

 

“As for you, Florence Goodluck, you will receive the biggest blessing for your greed and selfishness. Pirate captains are selfish, greedy, cruel, evil monsters. The only difference is that you happened to be foolish enough to discount my warnings, unlike your brethren. Your crew will have freedom, but you never will. That is your blessing and your curse, from now until the end of days.”

 

Then even the darkness faded into sheer nothingness.

 

-

 

Well, I hope you enjoyed, fellow reader~

[Panther Cub]

Yay! So happy to get to read the latest chapter! I cannot wait to start reading how the crew deals with the fallout of their new... circumstances... (Hopefully they'll set aside some time for playtime!)

[Baby Jemma]

@Panther Cub Playtime will have to wait. They still have to get to their destination first, you know? And juicy, juicy conflict...mmm...conflict and fallout... *giggles*

 

And now, the chapter!

 

-

Chapter Five: Waking Up in a Bassinet

-

 

Agnes was slow to wake up, her head in a giant haze. There was a scary voice about pirates in her head, a bunch of funny smells that filled the cougar’s nostrils, an odd, squishy, mushy feeling on her bottom.

 

The corn starch smell was still in her head, as she woke up…to see herself in a huge rocking bed, the wooden walls higher than her, a comfy pile of blankets covering her.

 

That’s strange. These blankets are far nicer than the insect-infested ones we had.

 

She noticed other things, too; for one, she was wearing a short pastel-blue dress that didn't hide…wait, what was that?!

 

Am I wearing…a diaper?

 

The cougaress’s golden eyes flew open in shock. She was wearing a diaper, and she had completely wet and soiled it. Tears flew unbidden to her eyes as she started to cry for her mom who was murdered when she was young.

 

“Mommy!” she wailed. “Mommy, I made a poopy!”

 

“I made a poopy, too! Mommy!”

 

Wait, is that AVIS talking?

 

“Avi!” Agnes called, trying to get to her paws. Thankfully, the walls - which she now realized was a bassinet - were not too tall, and she managed to stand up to see the cheetah, who was wearing a coif on her head that looked quite childish. The cougaress’s paw flew to her head, as she realized she was wearing something similar, and tears leapt to her eyes again.

 

“Agy?” the cheetah called back, sucking on her paw. “Wherth’s Mommy?”

 

“Dunno!” Agnes said, her paw flying unbidden to her mouth, the soothing feeling of sucking on something taking over.

 

More crying from the room, as the rest of the crew realized their predicament. Every single one of them had wet and soiled diapers, and the smell of corn starch was everywhere. What none of them saw was Florence.

 

“See, I told you it was cursed!” Sybil cried, the tigress wearing a pink smock.

 

“Where is that bitch right now?” Cecily snarled in a similar pink smock. “I wanna wring her damn neck!”

 

“Calm down!” Grace’s voice cut through, still deep, still proving that all of them still, at least, had the bodies of adults. “Let’s just get out of our bassinets first, see what’s what.”

 

Agnes was furious…but she accepted the pantheress’s logic. Each of the crew got out of the bassinets rather easily, realizing that even though their diapers - much, much thicker than normal baby diapers - were causing them to waddle, they could still walk without any problems.

 

“I am going to wring that bitch’s…mean neck.” Cecily’s eyes widened as she couldn’t say the most common word of any sailor. “Meanie! Stupid! Floofy!” She sat down with a squelch and pouted.

 

“The HELL is going on?!” Isabel growled. “I did NOT ask to be dressed like a baby!”

 

“I did not ask to POOPY like a baby either!” Denise snarled, trying to enunciate “shit” without any success.

 

“It was that voice, that older woman,” Emma pointed out before sucking on her paw.

 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Millicent said diplomatically. “If we’re cursed, it has to be that voodoo witch who lost her husband…”

 

“But if it is, then what the hell happened to our captain?” Winifred asked in a worried tone. “She clearly said Flory was going to get it the worst…”

 

“Good,” Cecily growled, still pouting on the floor. “I hope she’s suffering, wherever she is.”

 

“Listen, Ceecee, I don’t like this any more than you do, but Florence doesn’t deserve it,” Grace said. “We all wanted that treasure. We could’ve easily overruled her, and-”

 

“SHUT UP, GRACIE!” Sybil snarled, the tigress hearing a hiss as she wet herself more. She started to cry. “Dammit! I hate this!”

 

“Shh, it’s okay, Sibby.” Avis came over as the cheetah hugged her crewmate, as Grace started to cry.

 

“Why are you being mean to me?!” the pantheress bawled, as Millicent and Winifred waddled out of the crew’s quarters into the room where the treasure was being stored.

 

“Because YOU said to not leave the first chance we got!” Agnes snapped, the cougaress’s tail lashing side to side (or about as side-to-side as her thick diaper allowed)  in fury as she sheathed and unsheathed her claws, finally venting her spleen on something tangible. “And our STUPID captain wanted to take all of the cursed treasure! I hope she’s DEAD!”

 

Denise and Isabel started to cry, and Emma glared at Agnes, through tears of her own. “You don’t mean that, Agy,” the snow leopardess said. “Leave Gracie alone; she tried the best she could with what she was given.”

 

“SHUT IT, EMMY! I HOPE THAT POOPY FLOOFFACE BITCH OF A CAPTAIN IS DEAD AND BURNING IN HELL! SHE CURSED US! FOREVER! WE’RE GOING TO BE MAKING POOPIES IN DIAPERS FOREVER! WE’RE GOING TO BE PAWSUCKING TODDLERS FOREVER! ALL BECAUSE THAT BITCH GOT GREEDY! SHE COULD’VE TARGETED A PERFECTLY GOOD MERCHANT SHIP, BUT NOOOO, GO FOR THE FLOOFING CURSED TREASURE! I HATE HER, I HATE HER, I HATE HER!”

 

Agnes threw herself on the surprisingly soft floor, throwing a tantrum worthy of any two-year-old, as even the normally calm Emma started to cry, snot and tears running down her face, as the adult kittens wished that their mommies were there.

 

Then Millicent and Winifred came in, their faces pale.

 

“Flory…” Winifred said sadly.

 

“I just…I didn’t know…” Millicent mumbled.

 

“Is the bitch dead?” Cecily said coldly.

 

“Is she at least suffering?” Sybil spat.

 

“Um, you girls are going to have to see for yourselves,” Winifred said, her eyes serious enough that even Agnes was curious.

 

“She better be a floofing newborn…” Agnes snarled to herself as the group went into the captain’s chambers…and gaped in shock.

 

It was a full-blown nursery now, various shades of pastel pinks and blues adorning the room. The treasure that had been packed in was gone, replaced by everything an infant would need: diapers, honey sticks, cleaning supplies...but not even a single silver coin could be seen. A large bassinet lay in the middle of the room.

 

Florence was sleeping fitfully in the bassinet, completely swaddled like an infant, drooling on her bib, whimpering in a pained voice. “No more, Momma…why don’t you love me, Momma? Why don’t you want me? Why are you hurting me? Why are you bringing in men that hurt me? Momma, pweash…”

 

“Florence, enough dreaming!” Agnes snapped, ripping open the swaddled blankets, revealing a diaper that was leaking so much it could’ve burst. “It’s time to wake the hell up!”

 

The black vixen fell on the floor with a start, waking up to see her diaper, and she knew, and started to bawl unintelligibly.

 

“Shut up! We’re all like this. Now get the HELL up and let’s get to Tortuga!” Agnes tried to bring the captain to her feet and drag her, but the vixen immediately fell on her bottom and started to wail even more. “OH, FOR FLOOF’S SAKE, GET UP!”

 

“Agy, I don’t think she can!” Avis said, the cheetah’s eyes glaring at her friend so much that the cougaress immediately stopped, trusting in her friend to handle it. “Flory, can you move your feet?”

 

Agnes stared in shock as the still-adult, black-furred vixen shook her head sadly, ignoring her hated nickname - no, not just ignoring, but accepting it happily. “Me no wawk, Avi,” the vixen said, drooling even more on her bib. “Me twy…” She tried to stand up but fell on her bottom with a squish and a sobbing whine.

 

“It’s okay, you’re just not old enough right now,” Avis said calmly. “Can you still do the things of a captain? What is two plus two?”

 

“One, tawoo…one one?” The vixen was looking at the cheetah hopefully, as the entire crew started to realize…she really did get it worse than they did.

 

“Flory, crawl over to me,” Avis said. “Maybe we could change each other-”

 

“Poopy…” Florence’s eyes glazed over as she did just that, the horrid stench going through the room, as she continued to drool and started to suck on her paws.

 

“Oh my God!”

 

A male voice. All of the babyfied women turned around to see a large raccoon and a bunch of various animals staring at them in horror, crossing themselves, dropping to the deck in shock, or praying to whatever God they believed in, all in their native languages.

 

“The curse, it’s real!”

 

“Querido Dios!”

 

“Mère Mary, Jesus Christ, pardonne-moi, car j’ai péché…”

 

“You demned fools…you demned fools, going after a treasure that was obviously cursed…” The raccoon, Captain Richard Toler, one of the heads of Tortuga’s conclave, shook his head in disgust, as he began to order his crew, “Don’t touch anything other than them. Get them the hell out of here, get them demned well out; I don’t care if you drop them off in the demn streets, just so long as these stupid bitches are out of sight, and away from any able bodied man or woman. I don’t want them anywhere near any of our ships; we need all of the help we can get against the East India Trading Company…”

 

Somehow, the Catastrophe had arrived in Tortuga…and it was one of the worst receptions the eleven animals could’ve gotten.

 

-

 

Hope you enjoyed~

[Panther Cub]

Excellent new chapter! I'm excited to see where the big kittens and their big kit Captain all end up!