03:24 AM

Recreation Room...

Coming into the room, Jarril looks about for a moment before fixing his eye patch.  Taking a deep breath he makes his way through the hares in the room in a straight bee-line for the bar.  On arriving, he sits down onto a stool and rests his paws on top of each other and looks about for a moment, then raises a paw to gain some attention.

Neville dips a towel into a freshly rinsed tankard, wiping away the last of the wetness and achieving the shine that most of his regulars have to come expect. Inspecting the rim of the tankard he grins to himself, satisfied with the job. Looking up, Neville spies a hare waiting to be served and steps quickly over, leaning on the bar in front of him, "Well hello there, and wot can I getcha tonight then?" asks the barhare with a grin, waving for an anxiously waving hare at the other end of the bar to wait for a moment. He looks back to Jarril with a raised eyebrow, "Well?"

Jarril grins back at Neville.  "Strongest thing ya got in the house.  Need ta block some pain tonight."  Looking about he speaks again.  "Busy tonight in here I take it.  Ya know ya should ask for some more helpers on a night like this."

Neville raises an eyebrow, "Hmph, well, I would give you the best of my distilling but recently there has been a bit of pilfering going on in my cellar. Ain't caught the culprits yet but they've got off with the best of my stock, still got a good load of orange brandy left if you fancy a bit of that?" He grumbles as he gives away the details of the robber's thefts, mumbling about kids these days and other old-time grumbles.

Jarril blinks and coughs.  "Ah well.  I see if there is anything in the officers mess.  That's if the colonel's have left anything mind ya.  I think ya may have ta go in there one day and restock on that mini bar in there."  The major smiles.  "Ah well.  I let ya get on with what ya doing."  Nodding his head, he moves away from the bar, to allow others replacing the space to make their orders.  Busy night, indeed.

Salamandastron: Secondary Infirmary
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This is the Secondary Infirmary of Salamandastron, the room to where all
wounded beasts who must be treated immediately are taken.  There is a
small alley in the room, with 5 beds each on both sides of it, the back
wall just a mass of cupboards holding herbs, though not as many.  One of
the cupboards has no door, and a string dangles down, looping around a
pulley somewhere below the opening.  It is a dumbwaiter, leading up to
the Main Infirmary, used for transporting herbs and other medical
supplies to the Secondary Infirmary if need be.
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                  Visible Exits:
[Out] to Level One Intersection

"Beyond?" Zoe gives a soft sigh, little more than an outlet of breath, and lapses into silence for just about a full minute before her eyes shift upwards and focus upon Furn. "I c'n tell you what -I- think... not that it's anythin' special..." She pauses once again, with a thoughtful frown, "I s'pose I think.. that beyond death, there's got t' be somethin'. And... that somethin', that beyond... that's where our spirits linger, aftah death.. Only, there're two.. beyonds, two fates. If'n you've lived a poor life, and done evil... well, ya end up in what mothahs threaten their dibbuns with - the dark forest. 'Cept.. it's not really jus' a -dark forest-.. That's just.. a comparison, ya know? 'Tis really just a... place, where ya wander, lost, in darkness, not even knowin' who ya are anymore... 'Tisn't a -worse- fate that c'n befall ya, than losin' yer name, yer self - yer honor." She pauses, taking a long, deep breath. "But.. if'n you've done good in life? If'n you've done everythin' you can t' do righ'? Y

"You join all of the spirits of the past, there, in the fields o' life... Ya know yerself, and you've nevah been more found... Every worry of yer past life... jus' falls away. That beyond? That beyond.. well, 'tis bliss. 'Tis where I aim t' go." She then gives Furni a self-conscious little smile, her shoulders lifting in a shrug, "So, aye, that's what -I- think."

Furnier stays silent for quite a while... "It...It seems such a small place to spend eternity..." silence again. "I...I wonder if a murderer can be forgiven..." oh boy, is he gonna worry about this for seasons. x.x

Coming into the infirmary, the major having no luck at all in finding anything strong and intoxicating to drink.  He looks about and makes his way over to the far side of the room and hands over a scroll to one of the healers.  A few hushed words are mentioned here and there and Jarril relieves the healer and turns around to see what else is going on.

Forgiven? Zoe quirks her brow, shrugging slightly. For her, there's not really an idea of something that -can- forgive. More an idea of weights and balances, really. If you tip more to one side than the other, that's where you go. So, she simply gives a shrug, straightening up from her forward-leaning position. She then rubs absently at the back of her neck, her next words spoken almost absently as she takes a glance around, "You've got season upon season t' set yer fate, Furni; don't let yer past set it for ya."

Ooh, Jarril. Noticing him as he walks over, Zoe dips her head in a nod and then stands, "Majah, if'n I could have a word with ya privately?" She then looks down to Furn. "Sorry, m'lad.. I might stop back by latah, if'n yer still awake.. if not, have a good sleep, eh?" She offers him a brief smile and then steps away from his cot, gesturing for Jarril to follow.

Oddly enough, he's done nothing. Once they are sufficiently far away from the rest, Zoe gives him a glance over, "I was just wonderin' how ya were feelin' - and if'n you might need anothah one o' those 'teas'? I know the healahs don't typically give as strong o' pain draughts as we migh' like.." And with a diffident shrug, she looks to Jarril steadily. No, she's not blunt. At all.

Jarril slowly nods his head at Zoe and sighs softly.  "Well, since it may look like I be a permanent feature for the healers, that's if the injury doesn't get more infected and all.  I ain't sure what will take the pain away completely.  Most of the healers don't know either.  It may go eventually but right now I just have to put up with the pain."  Giving a fake smile, the major continues on.  "They say fools get punished in some way and this is my punishment for trying ta fight someone better than me."  Stopping for a moment he nods his head.  "I did hand a scroll ta a healer just now for them ta make another batch of the stuff anyways."  Looking about.  "Not come back yet with it though."

Looking a bit displeased by Jarril's constant self-evaluation as a fool, Zoe glances away from him, studying the other injured hares present, "Well, if'n you have any trouble with gettin' the stuff, don't hesitate t' give me a yell, 'ey? They tend t' work a bit quicker when I'm about, fer whatevah reason." Snerk.

Jarril nods his head.  "Oh I am sure they're busy and all, wot."  Giving his right ear a slight scratch he looks about himself.  "So how's our fearless leader?"

Snorting softly, Zoe flicks a brief glance back towards Jarril before once again scanning the infirmary. "Fine." Ahh, such a grandiose response. Just about brings tears to one's eyes. Eh heh. The doe's lips purse into an almost imperceptible frown, and she opts for a different topic, "So how're those new recruits you've been trainin' up in archery?"

Jarril gives a shrug and looks about.  "Oh ya know.  They're new at it and all.  Be a season or so before they be ready for any battle."  The major smiles on that thinking that to be a good thing really.  "I was thinking.  Ya free or still on duty.  I was about ta go search the officers mess for any strong whiskey.  They ran out at the normal bar.  Had Neville complain of some pinching his finest and all."

"Nah.. not on duty." Zoe manages a slight smile and turns finally to face Jarril. "I wouldn't mind somethin' t' drink, m'self.. Care t' lead the way?"

Jarril nods and walks out.

Salamandastron: Leaders' Lounge
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The officer's social lounge, a completely different world from the rest of
Salamandastron. Whereas the mountain is mainly designed for the kind of
efficient practicality left for the most pedantic of military
organisations, the mess is a sophisticated, well furnished and luxurious
den. The furnishings are mostly polished walnut wood with large, padded
maroon leather armchairs creating small circles, each with a small table
next to the right arm. The walnut finish is also applied to the bar at the
back, shelves of expensive liquors and fine wines line the back wall, with
a small, private passage down to the cellars. There is a finely crafted
billiards table in one corner of the lounge, the well-polished balls adding
to the candle-lit shine of the room. The walls have various
expensive-looking hangings and ornamental weapons, the crossed swords
framing various different coats-of-arms from some of the famous BadgerLord
families or noted heroes of the Longpatrol over the ages. There is a more
business-like area of the lounge with a large notice board, complete with
detailed world map and various bits of parchment pinned across it.
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                  Visible Exits:
[Out] to Hallway

After settling down and finding something worth drinking.  Jarril smiles and pours a glass of strong whiskey, before pouring another and placing it on the table.  Picking up his own, he leans back into his soft chair and gives the drink a slight roll in the glass and then takes a sip.  Yep, nothing like swallowing something that warms you up right away.

No, certainly nothing like it. Except that Zoe suddenly feels somewhat sick at the thought of drinking it. Wooh. Taking a sip, nevertheless, she returns Jarril's smile with a tight-lipped one of her own and then, sitting back in her own chair, sets her glass in her lap without anymore ministrations to said drink. "So, ah..." Yes. Good start, Zoe. Very good start. Too bad you have no idea how to finish it.

Jarril pauses and looks at Zoe for a moment.  "So?"  He takes another sip of his drink and places it down again.  He smiles and takes another sip before frowning slightly.  "About the youngsters. Exactly how soon do ya want them ready?"

"Whenevah ya think they're ready... no sense in rushin' 'em." Apparently, Zoe's not one for setting deadlines. Almost absently, she leans forward to set her glass down on the table between them and then straightens back up, paws coming to rest on the arms of her chair. "We're not hurtin' that badly... like I said, we c'n just combine the low-strength patrols with full'uns."

Jarril nods slowly and ponders something for a moment and dismisses it.  "Ah well.  As long as we don't have anymore defeats like that again, we should be fine after all but."  The major frowns slightly and downs the rest of his drink.  "As long as we don't let them sit comfortable on their victory for ta long.  Don't want them thinking that they can beat us completely.  Dangerous having a blood thirsty vermin side against ya.  Bally well stupid in making them feel confident and all, wot."

At the mention of the corsairs and their victory, Zoe gives a rather ambiguous little snort, shaking her head slightly as she looks off and away at some middle-distance, with a frown. "Well, we'll do somethin', don't ya worry. If'n I have m' way, the next battle'll be the last one... And then their 'victory' won't mattah; they'll be dead." A simple logic, that.

Jarril smiles on that one and gets up.  "Well, I won't argue that one at all."  He looks about and places the glass back where he had found it for the other hares to clean it, etc and turns to face the colonel.  "I best head off for the night, see if I can sleep and all.  Thanks for stopping for a drink and chat though.  Haven't much talked since."  He stops and shrugs.  "Suppose we're all ta busy and all now.  I bid ya goodnight."  With that he walks out.