09:34 PM

Humbert looks up at the sun, judging the time of day. He looks down again and runs to the front of the marching column, "Major! Major ol' chap!" he shouts as he runs up, "Looks like about tea-time t'me sah, the rules clearly state that in a non-emergency type state then we should stop an have a spot to eat. Patroller's rights an all that sah". Humbert pats a book-shaped lump in his breast pocket - the ever present rule book since his promotion and "rise to glory". He tugs down the front of his shirt and gets ready to call a halt on the major's behalf, waiting for the nod from his superior before he does so.

Jarril blinks at Humbert but nods his head.  "A word when with ya in a moment."  The major says as he slows his pace down.

Neville leans to the side, looking past the hare in front as his gaze follows the lieutenant running past to the front of the line. He shakes his head sadly, "Whats he up to now? Trying to control everything again I guess" mutters the barhare. He sighs, "Never once seen him in my bar... what kind'va hare doesn't ever visit the bar?" he says, mostly to himself. A gruff old hare behind him barks a rough laugh, "One whose head's far too up 'is own behind to think about enjoyin' himself".

Skipai chuckled and leans to whisper to Neville.  "I say, why don't we..."  The otter continues to whisper to Neville with a grin, looking to the front of the patrol while winking at the hare.  "Who's got any firewood left from last night?"

Neville glances back towards the otter, a wicked smile slowly appearing on his face. He nods along with the plan, adding, "I'm sure I can... help" he whispers back, patting a bulge in the side of his pack. He smiles once more as a chorus of affirmative answers come and the occasional hare waves a couple of sticks of wood.

Buckthorn is standing off to the side, eyeing the others with suspicion. He perks his ears, not really offering any help. He was far too much like the poor Humbert... but at the same time held no love for the hare. Once or twice before his own ears had been battered by the pompous commands of the hare. Buck scooted closer, however, interested.

Humbert takes a deep breath in, about to bellow an order, before choking it back, he looks towards the major, "A... word sah? But the regulations say we should stop" protests the newly risen lieutenant. He flusters slightly, trying to make sense of the contradictory order but, eventually, accordance with the chain of command kicks in and he salutes crisply, "Ready and awaiting your orders and guidance sah" he reports to Jarril, still keeping pace.

Jarril sighs.  "Never mind."  He coughs and gives the order to stop.  "Alright.  We rest here now.  Make camp."  Turning to Humbert, the major nods his head.  "Ya follow me for a moment."  Without saying another word, the major walks off leaving the patrol to sort out their thing as he walks briskly away and then stops a short distance off.

Skipai looks and then turns to face Neville.  "Right, this is what we are going to do mateys.  Neville, me laddo.  Y' sure y' can take the stuff now as I be making it really strong?"

Humbert flusters some more, looking towards the column of hares, slowly coming to a disorganised halt and the major, striding away. He turns to the hares and seems to hesitate, flipping between going quietly after the major and organising the rabble. He sighs and turns, following Jarril away from the crowd and looking quite confused as he does so. "Whats this about sah? That rabble need a firm hand to stop em from flopping to the ground and not even getting round to cooking dinner! Wastrels the lot of em"

Buckthorn wrung up his snout, this proposal between the otter and hare becoming one of great interest from not only him, but a gaggle of hares about him. He really didn't want to get invovled... buuuut... a glance is shot to the hare Hambert. No, he /wanted/ this.

Jarril places his arms about his chest and nods at Humbert, just the one eye frowning slightly.  "May I remind you sah.  That yaself was in the lower officah ranks only a short while ago.  And that I decide when I have walked the bally patrol enough, not ya."  Shaking his head, the major looks around the hare and smiles.  "As for the rabble, they're already setting up camp or do ya question my own training as a major?"  Jarril stays firm in his stare, awaiting Humbert's reply.

Humbert looks down to the ground, then up to the major, then across, back, down, up, everywhere but meeting the superior officer's gaze. "Well yessah, a'course you know when to stop sah." he follows his leader's gaze towards the group of hares, now happily making a cooking fire, all whilsting and laughing as they do so. His eyes narrow, the co-ordination of the commoners obviously a ruse to make him look bad in front of Jarril, "Ah, yes sah, I underestimated their devotion sah, obviously your inspirational command has got them in order sah"

Neville whistles happily as his stirs a large pot, occasionally adding drops from a large bottle from his pack. He stirs away, sniffing at it occasionally. A fighter stares at the liquid, asking what exactly was in it, the barhare looks over, "It's just fruit cordial matey, it'll perk yer up a bit tho and wet the throat, thats the main thing" he explains, "A'course I've made a special one for our beloved lieutenant, can't 'ave him gettin' thirsty from all the orders and whatnot". Neville looks particularly evil at this point, moreso than ever, he cackles as he stirs the brew.

Jarril nods his head.  "Well, we won't speak another word of it again.  Just remember who has rank, wot.  Now let's get back and see what is being cooked up."  The major slowly makes his way back.  Skipai on the other hand, spots the major heading back as he begins to put ingredients into the small pot.  "Hmmm, how much do y' think we need?"  He looks about as he puts one paw ful in.  Looking about he see's some hares shaking his head.  "Ah well, this is good stuff mateys so y' all owe me getting more of this stuff."  The otter puts in four pawfuls of the red powder.

Buckthorn wrinkles his nose and allows himself a smile. It there was one hare in this scheme that the lieutenant would trust, it would be the no-fun Buckthorn. Making his way past Humbert, he sneakily and with a great deal of flawless acting  pipes up as he hops on by. "Blast. 'Course I'd fah'get meh cup on th' one trip ole Nev makes 'is famous cordial. None finer, wot wot!" He adds a shake of his head and a serious frown to top it all off.

Humbert watches Jarril walk back towards the group and sees Buck coming towards him. He's about to say something when he remembers Buck's serious nature, an unreasonable telling off would be questions and the appropriate steps would be taken. He sighs and perks an ear to the hare's complaining, he raises an eyebrow and grins, maybe it was a good idea to bring the useless barhare along on the trip. He licks his lips and wanders towards the crowd to get some food and an officer's portion of the cordial.

Neville tries not to be too obvious in noticing the lieutenant approaching his pot of cordial as he continues to dish out drinks to the queing hare. He doesn't bat an eyelid as the pompous hare pushes his way to the front and demands his "greater share" of the provisions, as according to his rank. Neville makes a show of searching around for the biggest mug, distracting the lieutenant as he fills it, sloshing in a generous helping of a clear liquid from a small vial. He gives it a good stir then stops. "Actually sah, got some spice that'd really improve it" he says, sprinking a few strong smelling spices in from him pack, mainly to mask the flavour of the little additions. He passes it over with a winning smile.

Skipai tends to the small camp fire as he carefully tends to the pot and the contents held within it.  Picking up the small ladle the otter takes a sip, pulls a face and adds another pawful carefully into the stew while everyone is busy looking at Neville and his giving out drinks.  Stirring it a bit more, the otter smiles and tastes it again with a approving nod.  "Right mateys, the food's nearly ready.  Anyone who wants a hot meal, line up or use y' own rations.  Doesn't bother me, it be more warm broth for myself."

Humbert swells, empowered by his success in skipping the queue for drinks, and heads over to the food, striding confidently past the hares waiting for their food. He thrusts his bowl towards the otter, "You there, I'll have my share first" he says, still in a bad mood for his telling off and quite happy to take it out on the 'help'. He stands, bowl still thrust out and glares at a hare who sniggers slightly in the queue.

Another young hare in on the games, one of the name Tulbard wrings up his nose, being pushed as the hare manages to barge his way past. "Hoy thar!" He starts, about to yell at the hare trying to cut. Upon a quirked brow a shy smile lights on Tul's face. "Burm, wot? Oh! Lieutinant! E'cuse meh, Sah! Go on right ah'ead!" He says and steps to the side.

Skipai blinks and looks at the bold hare, standing up. "Here, I can't have y' just butting in and all."  The otter waves his ladle about in the air, just barely missing a few of Humbert's whiskers.  "And I may remind y' matey.  Have some more respect for y' elder as well.  Now ask politely for the broth or y' not getting any?"

Jarril watches from the side away from the other hares, rubbing his chin as he looks to see how Humbert will deal with the situation at paw, although ready to come in if things get out of hand.  Taking out the map from his pocket, he begins to inspect it, looking about the beach and the general direction the patrol is heading in.

Humbert scowls, "Errm, may I remind /you/ to have more respect for the officers of the longpatrol" commands the hare, a demeaning sneer crossing his features. He notices Jarril glancing over at him from afar and coughs, straightening, "Well... anyways, no need for unpleasantries. Sir cook, may I please have my rightful helping of your...broth?"

Skipai looks in the general direction, spotting Jarril and turns his head back to Humbert.  "Ah, yes, y' broth."  Kneeling back down again to stirring it in the pot, the otter churrs softly.  "Nice t' know that y' still got hares above y'.  Well, unless y' planning on killing the major just t' get promoted like some rat."  The otter fills up the bowl of the hot vegetable stew and hands it over to Humbert, with a smile.  "But we all know long patrol officers don't do that, so everything's fine."

Northpaw runs, sand billowing up behind him. His straps for his weapons and such are flapping, not very well buckled. The swords on his back are bouncing up and down, creating a small bruise on his back. Oh god, my lungs are about too blow up...oh well, I'm all most there. Damn! I hope I don't catch it from the major. As he catches up with his patrol, he slows down, hoping he hasn't been missed. Lost the time in the Rec Room, blood n' fur. He smiles as he thinks about his winnings, a nice bracelet, some small gems and a nice dagger.

Humbert snatches the bowl and scowls some more, just for good measure, "A'course I'm not gonna kill anyone, I'm no brutish otter" says the lieutenant, "But I'm sure they'll give me my own patrol once they see how good I am at command". He turns sharply and marches off to sit on a rock, away from the rest of the crowd, sure that everyone's jealous of his position. He shakes his head and takes a large spoonful of broth up to his lips. He sniffs at it first then grins. "Hah, bet they think they're so clever, expectin' me to take a mouthful of burnin hot brew" he says to himself. He blows on the broth to take the temperature down slightly and eats the spoonfull. He grins and takes another large spoonful and is about to take a third when he freezes... He slowly lowers the spoon, breathing out heavily. He sucks air into his lungs, which only fans the flames in his throat. He wheezes, coughs and grabs for his mug of cordial which he proceeds to glug down, licking the bottom of the cup in an effort to get every last d

Humbert licks the bottom of the cup in an effort to get every last drop of moisture onto his burning tongue. His eyes, now streaming water quite freely, bulge as the burning continues. He stands, coughing, spluttering and looking quite red, sweat running from his fur.

Skipai chuckles as he hands a bowl to Nev while filling up a bowl for himself and moving away from the fire.  "Well, the rest is y's if y' can take it."  Noting the other hares.  "Call it a challenge, those that can finish their bowls get me and any otter's respect."

Neville looks over in fascination as the lieutenant downs the whole mug of cordial, including the generous amount of "old gullet-fire", one of the most lethal spirits know to hare-kind. He shakes his head in astonishment, "Bloody fool must've thrown it right past his tongue if he didn't notice the alcoholic kick... or his tongue was so busy shrivelling from the heat that it just didn't register. Neville chuckles to himself, although feeling guilty for it. He watches as the lieutenant staggers around for a bit before doubling over, emptying the contents of his stomach in one, rather unpleasant heap. The barhare grins, "Some folk just can't hold their drinks" he says, getting a coarse laugh from the surrounding hares.

Jarril blinks at the map one more time and turns his head to the sound of running heading to the camp.  Moving swiftly to the direction of the noise, the hare's paw moves to where his weapon is but stops midway.  "Ah, and what can I do for ya Northpaw.  Late again I take it."  Shaking his head.  "That's fine by me, ya can wash everyone's bowls this evening and tomorrow ta make up for it."

Humbert straightens and wipes his mouth, staring groggily down at the mess on the beach then over towards the 'rabble' of patrol hares, most of whom are now pointing and laughing. He groans and turns to stagger behind the rock where he was leaning earlier, only to get caught in another gagging fit, releasing yet more of the poison in his stomach. He sags and falls against, the rock, slumping into a sitting position and panting... "Water..." he croaks.

Buckthorn flicks his ears sadly. He really figured some hares about the patrol would take a liking to playing the very same tricks on him. Oh well, at least Buck wasn't pompous or stuck up... just... strict. The hare moved and collected his own portion of food and drink, giving an extra wink and smile to Nev.

Skipai gets up and makes his way over to where Humbert is, carrying a flask of water.  Kneeling down next to the hare, the otter churrs softly.  "Now, matey.  That was just a small lesson t' be learnt.  Maybe next time y' respect those under y' as they will be the ones t' help y' in battle.  Be firm yes, but respect others and they respect y', even those above y'."  Handing over the flask.  "If not, then remember.  I can make other things than just broth and I am the cook for this patrol.  Remember that."  Leaving Humbert, the otter makes his way back to the others.