Beneath these Waves

[Luka]

"Busy. I'm busy, y'hear? I'll tell you a thousand times I'm busy and yet you keep going." Luka stepped from the kitchen counter with a heavy bag of flour in his paws.

"Busy?  You mean to say, you actually have?what is it now??? Alan stumbled on the words, alcohol's disturbing odor crawling out his lips.

"Use?" Luka finished. Dropping the flour to the floor, the fox rolled his eyes.

"Hah, use, yes.  Don?t be absurd. Anyway, this is far more important."

"Got some tenacity. Not unlike your brother," Luka noted, arms crossed.

Alan grinned madly. A slight twitch attacked his ear at the mentioning of his brother Eying up his bloody blade in one paw and chugging beer with the other he made his way over to the fallen guard. ?My brother is no concern of yours, limper.?  His voice was a harsh snarl. ?You?re nothing more than a lowly, serving, brute.  Whatever your ambitions in the past, I can assure you that you miss nothing.?

"We're all pawns in the end," the cook murmured. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Because I bloody well feel like it." Alan waved his blade almost tripping over himself.

Luka's eyes flicked to Molly, watching the mouse fumble with scones. "My life sucks, yours is amazing; congrats, is that the information you wish to share?hey, slave! Pick up that scone you imbecile! If their scones aren't flawless they'll be eating you and not a thing I can do will help you!"

The mink captain snickered, "Or you could ignore him.  It?s been far too long since we?ve had fresh meat," Alan mused, watching the mouse maid scramble on the floor.

Luka grabbed his knife and began chopping up onions. "Now, what's your point again? Oh look at this, heheh," the fox picked up a pear shaped onion. Shrugging, he sliced it up and tossed it into the nearest cauldron.

"Your wit is beyond compare.? Alan paused, placing a paw over his muzzle to hold in his innards.

Luka ignored the comment. Silent, he placed the flour back on the counter. "I'll add this in later."

"You know, I came here to warn you of an impending attack. Your pet slaves are acting up.  If I were you, I?d keep an eye on your kitchen knives. However, you may just want to limp to your hiding place. I?m sure you?ll feel safer there."




"He's right. What're you going to do, eh?" Luka held his small beer belly like a child holding its doll. Dull eyes glanced up from his stomach, locking on his open closet door. Inside, tucked away, was his former armor. It served as a nice contrast from the cook's barren room. Only a straw bed, cabinet, and one painting of his deceased parents decorated his living space.

Feeling the cold iron breastplate Luka heaved a sigh. "You're just going to die out there, Luka. Nothing you can do will stop anything anyways," the cook continued.

He limped forward and entered the closet. Scratching his head, Luka scanned his belongings. "Ah, yes, there you are. Nice to see you're still in working condition." The fox pulled out his shield and short sword, gently running his paws across both. "How long it has been since your colors have matched Alan's blade?"

Luka began the practice of speaking with his possessions. Despite the interest in the conversation, it was not long before the fox stopped himself and sighed. "No, there's only one way to see if wearing all of you is the right move. I should have time to confront it." The fox found himself fighting some invisible force to place his belongings back in the closet. Why was it such a hard decision?

Task complete, Luka limped his way over to his drawer and pulled out his chest board and pieces. With flawless recollection he placed the pieces in order, his movements blindingly fast. "If I win, I'll fight. If I lose, I'll limp away to my hiding place..."





Upon Luka's return, the kitchen became a warzone. Bowls lined the counters, silverware lined the floor, excess ingredients were tossed around, and his flour was moved?not like other ingredients were in the right spot, but who in the blazes spilled the flour? "Who put the flour in the cauldron? That is none of your jobs, is it? Well, who did it? You even dumped it out a bit you idiots!" Luka screamed, head about to blow off from the rage pulsing through his body. All of the kitchen servants were present. None of them spoke.

"N-no one sir," a young male hare finally revealed. "We haven't done anything without your orders. We weren't even back in the kitchen yet 'til you got back..."

As if he could run again, the fox made it to the cauldron with great speed. Shaking his head in disbelief he went back to the flour. None was missing?

"No one? Then why is it tipped over?" The cook cursed existence itself! Grumbling profanity after profanity, the fox shoveled the flour back into its bag. Taking the bag he grabbed the nearest slave and forced it against the beast's chest. "Nevermind. Make yourself useful and put the flour in. I've got more important things to attend to. Everyone finish whatever is left on the lists! Need to run back to my room and rest. Don't just stand there, go!"

"Luka, sir, where is Ralle?" another slave inquired.

The fox rolled his eyes. "Y'think I know? She's doing her job, as you all should be! Now off!"




Crimson blood soaked Luka's paws; too bad it was his own. Groaning, the former guard crashed into the nearest wall. Like a bag of rocks gravity pulled him to the floor mercilessly. "Lovely, quite lovely."

Was it karma that cut through him so boldly, leaving his chest with a troublesome wound? Was it his ignorance of Alan's words that put him here? The fox found no answer. Only sorrow filled his mind as beast after beast fell around him. Oddly enough, unscathed beasts started to collapse to the floor. Luka had to admit even he was beginning to feel woozy?and not from the wound! Shaking his head, he began to sweat. He would not die here. His armor weighed a ton, so he threw it aside. His helmet boiled his brain, so he did not need that anymore either.

What he once thought was going to be a fantastic night of overindulgence and celebratory cheers became his worst nightmare. Who attacks on a feast, honestly? Luka rose he to his feet. Rubbing his temples with his stained paws, he tried to connect the dots. Where did he go wrong? Certainly it was not with Alan. A cross grin appeared on his face when he realized maybe his chess game placed a hex on him. Okay, so maybe that was not it. The fox began to leave the dining hall, ignoring the cries of agony that followed him.

It landed on karma again. He should not have been so harsh to the slaves. After all, was Luka any better than them now? Sure, he was donning his armor once again, but now his entire world began to collapse around him. His blade and shield were becoming burdensome?he tossed them away too. It was just flour and food right? Were they anything worth yelling at beasts about? Karma obviously did not think so as her steel kiss went straight through his chest.

The further Luka limped, the more and more he began to succumb to darkness. Yes, he was bleeding out, but something did not feel right. What he would give for another buttered scone! And somehow, the thought made him feel worse.

Crunch!

His left leg gave out.

Again, the fox was on the floor. His eyelids felt like iron weights, but that didn't stop him from crawling to the kitchen. An odd grin formed on his features as he found the empty bag of flour discarded on the ground. Sniffling, he placed his nose and face inside it. "I've been a horrid beast, but not nearly as bad as they," Luka murmured. Rolling onto his back, bag still on his head, Luka continued his woes. "I couldn't even take down one woodlander...how bad is that?"

Certainly Lady Kovari must have met a worst end than he, right? Alan, in his opinion, should be in the Dark Forest right now. The cocky captain probably charged in a drunken stupor right into some pathetic woodlander's makeshift spear. Regardless of whether or not it was the mink's actual fate, the thought brought forth a weak chuckle. It was short-lived, however, as the cook moved his thoughts to Rallentando. Did the poor maiden make it out alive? Did he just refer to her as a maiden instead of a slave?

"No matter," Luka whispered. Removing the bag from his face, he sneezed up a puff of flour. Fur covered from the residue of the bag, he now took on the appearance of a ghost-faced being. It was only fitting.

Even from the kitchen, the cook could hear the yelps of death die down. Things were becoming calm, tranquil even. Unable to open his eyes, Luka reached around for something, anything comforting. A tornado had gone through the kitchen every year, so what would make this feast any different?

"Gotcha. Ah, good ole Trusty." He found his kitchen knife. Content, he rubbed its familiar handle one last time. The sound of rushing water filled Luka's ears. "Heh...didn't know that's what death sounds like." Whatever life was left in the beasts that night, became swept away by a watery grave.