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Nov 15, 2024 7:59:02 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jan 11, 2015 0:01:43 GMT -5
Trusty shook his head again, snorting softly as he padded into the parlor after Scamp, seating himself as the younger dog hopped up onto the chair behind the writing desk. The old tracker winced when Scamp began nosing through the papers on the desk, hoping Jim wouldn't notice how much everything was being rearranged. He couldn't help but glower a bit when the young mongrel returned to the floor.
"I hope Jim Dear doesn't notice the mess you made up there," he huffed. He let out an irritable snort as he eyed the missive, already sealed with wax. He lowered his head, taking care not to let his jowls trail across it, to examine it further. After a moment, he sighed, and shook his head, dismissing the issue. "I don't suppose there was any way around it, and what's done is done," he stated, stretching out on his belly, nose almost touching the letter as he regarded it closely.
If they broke the wax seal, it would be obvious no matter what they did. The question was, how would they get to the letter without breaking the seal? He lay there in silence, pondering, mulling over the problem carefully. Something about the seal tugged at his mind, but try as he might, he couldn't quite figure what. But something did stand out.
"How, uh, how did Jim Dear, uh, put this seal in the wax?" he asked, gazing up at Scamp from beneath heavy eyelids.
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Sept 11, 2021 15:41:41 GMT -5
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Post by Scamp on Jan 11, 2015 0:16:56 GMT -5
Scamp felt his shoulders slouch, the smirk quickly vanishing from his maw to be replaced by an uneasy apologetic smile. Trusty was right, he had left all of Jim's notes scattered side to side. He would have to take spehcal care to neatly stack them. While their order would be lost, perhaps the sight of them stacked once again nice and neatly would throw any suspicion that someone had nosed through them.
He bowed his head, and sat down on his hunches. Like his uncle, he lowered his head to examine the parchment. Upside down as it was to his point of view, and careful so as to not bump heads with the bloodhound. The seal was there, nice and solid. Scamp knew litter about seals. The only seal he had done in his life being the paw-print left on the contract he held with Shang upon inclusion into Simba's army.* He knew it was a stamp that was placed into the wax when it was hot, but exactly how he did it, Scamp was unsure.
"I dunno. I've never seen him do his work before. He usually does it upstairs in his office. Even mom and pop where not allowed in there. My guess is he wrote the letters, stamped them, and then brought them down here so he would remember to give them too me to send sometime in the next week."
If that was true, then that meant the seal, the wax, and the kit was upstairs. Even if they could get past the sleeping Jim Dear in his bedroom, the office was more then likely locked tight. It would be hopeless to get into it.
"What if we slide something sharp under the seal, can we pull it up? I don't thick teeth or claws would do the trick."
(*OOC: Somewhere, I remember a thread where individuals where signing in to join the army. Where and when I can not recall. heck, it was so long ago, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm mixing threads, or even if my mind made it up. If anyone has information to the contrary about how they actually joined, I will amend the post.)
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Nov 15, 2024 7:59:02 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jan 11, 2015 23:14:37 GMT -5
Trusty frowned as Scamp denied knowing anything about how the stamp was put into the wax, and the half-formed idea in the back of his mind faded even as it solidified. He gazed back down at the letter, rolling his ears back over his shoulders to keep them from flopping down in his way.He dismissed the thought of Jim's seal from his thoughts, focusing on the task before them.
He glanced back up at Scamp when the young dog spoke up again, but he started to shake is head even before Scamp stopped speaking. That suggestion wouldn't do any good at all. "No, uh, that wouldn't do any good. Hard as that wax is attached to the paper, it would break right in two. There's no, uh, no way to, uh, deal with wax after it's been melted. Aside from, uh, aside from scraping it off," he said, a bit distracted as he explained, still trying to think.
Then he frowned in thought as his earlier musings finally came into focus. If they'd had Jim's seal stamp on had, they could simply remove the seal, and melt some wax and stamp it themselves once they'd read the message. But they didn't, so breaking the seal was something they couldn't do, under any circumstances.
"Of course, uh, I suppose you could, uh, melt the dried wax," he remarked in an offhand manner, pondering Scamp's suggestion again. The young dog was right about the needing to use something thin to open th letter. Their teeth and claws would be of no use to them. But that still left them with no way to re-seal the letter once they were done. For the first tie in a long time, he found himself wishing Lady's clever mate were here even as he glowered at the thought.
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Sept 11, 2021 15:41:41 GMT -5
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Post by Scamp on Jan 11, 2015 23:51:46 GMT -5
Scamp's ears perked. He rasied his head and looked around the room, brown eyes focusing on the steam radiator that sat in the corner. Like most of the fine homes on Snob Hill, the Dear residence was fitted with steam heating. He knew from a puppyhood incident where he mistakenly placed a paw against one that the radiators could be very hot. He gave a soft snort as the memory of the vent played itself out in his mind's eye.
"What about the radiators? We could soften the wax over one, and then maybe we could pry it free."
The pup then stood his legs, and cast his gaze around. Both attempting to seek out something they could use to pry the wax open with, and trying to come up with an idea in the same. While he couldn't have known it, he too was wishing his father had been there. The Tramp always seemed to have some sort of cunning trick or plan in his back pocket. Of course, Scamp mentally chastised himself, that's what got the older mutt into trouble in the first place.
Despite this, the dog suddenly found himself coming up with an possible solution. His tail began to wag as a small smile broke across his maw.
"Wait, I think I have an idea...hold tight."
The pup spun around in place, and trotted off towards the hallway, takeing great measures to pad on the very tips of his paws in order to keep his movement's silent, and not click his nails as he reached the kitchen. Pushing his way gengerlly through the dule hinged door, he moved swiftly across the tile floor. Unfortunately, despite having gained some height, he was still not tall enough to reach the particular drawer that was his target. useing the crown of his head, he had to carefully push a chair into place. Doing his best to not scratch the feet of the chair along the floor. Once capable of reaching the drawer, he used his teeth to clasp the handle and pull it open., and retrieve his target.
Within a few seconds, Scamp returned to the parlor. With a sharp kitchen knife wedged handle first between his teeth. The blade pointed down in case he tripped. He deposited the utensil next to the missive.
"Will this do?"
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Nov 15, 2024 7:59:02 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jan 12, 2015 23:22:14 GMT -5
Trusty turned his head to gaze at the radiator, pondering Scamp's suggestion. He knew it would be more than hot enough to soften the wax seal. Then, before he'd even thought of anything to say, either for or against the idea, Scamp was up and moving, leaving the old hound lying on the floor, staring after him with a bemused expression on his face.
He watched the young mutt move a chair carefully, then clamber on top of it so he could reach a drawer. That was when Scamp's plan fully clicked, and he returned his attention to the sealed missive, particularly to the wax seal. The question was would it be better to hold the missive over the radiator to let the wax heat up, or would it be better to heat up whatever Scamp was going to get out of the drawer?
The answer came when Scamp deposited a wooden-handled knife beside the missive. They should be able to use the handle to keep from getting burned while heating the knife blade. Then it was only a matter of sliding the hot blade behind the seal. He slowly nodded, a renewed look of determination crossing his face as gazed back up into Scamp's eyes. "Yeah, I'd say that will do just fine," he stated before gripping the handle carefully between his teeth, blade held straight ahead as he rose to his feet.
He padded towards the radiator, and placed the knife blade against a pipe, immediately grimacing as he felt the cloud of hot air surrounding the radiator. But he remained where he was, fully committed to the task at hand. After a bit, he couldn't keep from wheezing a bit as the heated air entered his lungs.
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Sept 11, 2021 15:41:41 GMT -5
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Post by Scamp on Jan 13, 2015 0:14:03 GMT -5
Scamp held a paw to his chest as his uncle hacked slightly. Holding the piece of cutlery over the radiator. There was a small part of him that wanted to warn the bloodhound to be careful holding the blade. The mongrel had seen first hand the effects that sharped bit of metal could do to flesh and fur.
As Trusty warmed the knife, Scamp lowered his head and carefully grasped the sheaf of papers firmly in his teeth, and brought it closer to the radiator. He figured that it once the knife was warm enough the edge would melt the bottom of the seal without damaging the seal itself, and they could lift the lid on the missive. However, figuring out how to coordinate such a delicate operation with one their paws and teeth was going to be the task at hand. Scamp had once wielded a sword before, flinging it haplessly at Zira in a battle several months ago, using his jaws. But this required more precision.
He had also carefully removed a tin can from the paws of a sleeping monster before...and he knew that the same sort of skill would be required here to get past the seal without mistakenly slicing open a paw.
"How do you want to do this?" He asked around clinched teeth. "Do you want one of us to just hold the darn thing steady, and pick at it? Or pin it against the floor?"
(Sorry for the short post....the site glitched on me and I lost a chunk of writing. )
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Nov 15, 2024 7:59:02 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jan 13, 2015 0:42:08 GMT -5
Trusty had to force himself to focus through the waves of heat pouring off of the radiator. And to not sink his teeth into the knife handle. He closed his eyes, fighting against his instinct to back away from the radiator. His nose felt like it was stuck too close to a fireplace, and he couldn't keep from wheezing more as he inhaled more hot air. After a bit longer, when he felt some heat in the handle, did he back away from the radiator.
He stumbled a bit, pausing as he let his head clear. He grimaced around the knife handle as he felt his heart flutter, seeming to skip a beat for a moment, still wheezing a bit. Then he carefully set the knife down, and slowly sank to his belly, head turned away from the radiator as he breathed the cool air, hiding the discomfort in his chest as he felt it loosen, his breathing returning to normal.
Then he placed his large paws on either side of the missive, holding it in place while leaving the seal clear, along with the opening for the knife blade to slide in. "I'll hold it in place, you slide the blade beneath the seal," he said, his voice a bit strained. He knew Scamp would have an easier time manipulating the knife into position than he would.
He did his best to ignore the dryness of his nose, and his hot, parched throat. He hadn't felt this way since he'd gotten too close to a fireplace. But he hadn't felt any discomfort in his chest, then. He dismissed the memory, figuring it simply had to do with the fact that he was still recovering from his bout of Lyme Disease.
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Sept 11, 2021 15:41:41 GMT -5
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Post by Scamp on Jan 13, 2015 1:05:37 GMT -5
Scamp lowered his head and grasped the wooden handle of the blade. While the blade was not red-hot, as close as it was to his nose he could feel the heat radiating through the knife. It tickled the insensitive scent receptor enough to cause the mongol to wrinkle his maw slightly. Carefully shifting the bit of cutlery to be able to orientate the blade in the right direction.
Gently, he kept his head held low, and brought it about to focus on where to aim the tip of the blade. He stood with his rump in the air as if he was crouched down ready to pounce. His tail flicked back and forth swishing in the air as he concentrated. With Trusty's paws on each end of the missive, it would be real easy to mistakenly cut into a toe if he made an error in judgement. He drew leveled the blade, and placed the edge against the seal, right where the wax met the paper.
For a second, nothing seemed to happen. A little force was applied, still nothing. More force still.
Finally the size of the gap between the seal and envelope began to widen, and the knife slid between the two. Scamp's ears perked, as milimetricly he drew the blade between the two. Taking his time. He had not concentrated this hard on a singular task since Buster dumped him in Reggie's ally! About half way through, he felt his nose start to tickle. Most likely leftover from the heat that was still rising from the blade. It took the grey furred mongrel all of his admittedly limited self control to not reach a paw up to scratch.
Finally, with a sudden acceleration, the seal broke free. Scamp suddenly felt himself loose balance and it took some quick neck and chest work to keep himself from landing face first on the hot blade or swinging it at one of Trusty's legs. The Seal had been pulled, and while a little waxy residue was left on the envelope, the seal face itself was undamaged. The Coat of Arms of Marceline was undamaged.
Scamp dropped the knife. Letting it hit the rich carpet to cool.
"Man...that was slick!"
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Nov 15, 2024 7:59:02 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jan 14, 2015 23:35:32 GMT -5
Scamp's focus on the task at hand gave Trusty the chance to close his eyes for a moment to help clear his head. He opened them when he felt some slight pressure on the missive pinned beneath his paws, and he drew his tongue inside his mouth, breathing as softly as he could, unmoving, listening for any signs of Jim stirring upstairs, hoping the man wouldn't wake before they'd concluded their business.
It took every once of his self control to remain where he was when Scamp nearly lost his balance, knife still clenched between his jaws, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the young mutt recovered, and dropped the knife on the carpet, leaving the seal intact, but separated from the envelope. They'd done it. He waited for a moment, letting th wax cool again, before shifting his paws, pressing the sides of the envelope to more readily expose the papers inside.
"You did good, but we're not done yet," he said, a pleased, proud smile crossing his face as his tail wagged a few times. He dared not try to remove the papers from the envelope himself. His snout and jowls were too big and too loose to even consider it. Especially not when Scamp had already proved he had quite dexterous jaws.
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Sept 11, 2021 15:41:41 GMT -5
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Post by Scamp on Jan 15, 2015 0:00:41 GMT -5
Scamp could feel his confidence boosting at his minor accomplishment. He raised a paw, and carefully splayed the toes in a canine version of cracking knuckle, her mouth cocked into a smirk.
"Heh, easy."
He drew a claw, and carefully began to pull the small stack of papers from the envelope. He could have used him mouth, but he did not want to mistakenly place his tongue on the paper and leave any sort of evidence. Once the paper where pulled free, once again using his paw, the young mongrel flipped the first one over. Unfolding it as he did so.
For a few seconds, he speed read his way through the message. Brown eyes dancing left to right along the lines of text. What he was reading both sent chills up his spine, coupled with the feeling of his heart sinking.
"I regret to inform you that in the political climate, any sort of alliance between the good people of Marceline and Simba's Army would be near to imposable." He kept his voice to a low whisper, reading the missive out-loud. "As we feel that such an copulation would be against our long standing neutrality, and more lucrative opportunities would compel us against an outright alliance."
Scamp's head then rose, ears falling backward slightly, one eyebrow raised in confusion.
"What does that mean, "more lucrative opportunities"? I mean...I understand that Jim doesn't want to have dealings with Simba. I don't want to see Simba's army here....but, lucrative opportunities...that sounds scary."
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Nov 15, 2024 7:59:02 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jan 15, 2015 23:31:43 GMT -5
Once Scamp had freed the letters from their envelope, Trusty crossed his paws before him, waiting patiently for the young dog to unfold a page and read. He was pleased to see the young mutt using his claw over his mouth. Less chance of leaving any signs they were looking at it. But as Scamp read some of the writing aloud, Trusty felt his hackles bristling, and a cold feeling settle into his belly.
A grim look settled over his face, and he rose to his feet, too agitated for the moment to answer Scamp. The phrase 'lucrative opportunities' wasn't unfamiliar to him, even if he didn't fully understand just how money worked. Mainly that it gave some humans a higher social status than those with less. For a moment, he feared it was too late as soon as Rourke had set foot into the Dear house. Then he snorted a bit, rejecting any thoughts of failure.
"It is," he said grimly. He sat down again, facing Scamp, a weary feeling sweeping through his body. He could only hope that Jim hadn't already agreed to anything with the Human Villains. "Is there anything else?" he asked. Once they'd learned everything important they could form the missive, then they'd discuss things back at his house after re-sealing the missive.
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Sept 11, 2021 15:41:41 GMT -5
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Post by Scamp on Jan 16, 2015 8:12:50 GMT -5
Scamp could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise slightly at Trusty's tone. The mongrel was no international diplomat. That status was reserved for his older sister. So exactly what words where between the lines was lost to him. He also knew very little about what the rules of Neutrality where. Shang has expressed concern that the American center of industry would declare itself Neutral, and that the general knew of ways to get around such treaties. Both for the good, and for the bad. He returned his attention to the letters, moving them around with his claw tips. An eye brow rose and one ear perked as a line caught his attention.
"Now this is interesting. "Belligerent parties attempting to invade the territory of Marceline with intentions to occupy with be met with resistance. Resisting any such attempt does not compromise its neutrality." Must mean Simba and Shang can't just waltz in with an army."
The pup's tail started to wag, and another possibility entered into his mind. He could feel a form of tentative relief moving through his body. Perhaps there was a light after all.
"Does that mean that Rourke can't pull anything either? I mean...at least it means the HV alliance can't just invade right?"
It couldn't be that simple. After-all, technically speaking, he was himself a member of a belligerent party. He had not found any resistance upon entering the town despite the fact. Neither had Rourke.
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Nov 15, 2024 7:59:02 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jan 16, 2015 23:49:42 GMT -5
Trusty couldn't honestly claim to be an expert at politics. Good manners were all he could claim, as far as diplomatic skills went. He much preferred action over talk, when it came down to it. But he'd been around long enough to gain some knowledge about how some thing worked. Knowledge a=enough to cipher some of the bureaucratic wording in the missive.
What he heard gave him some relief, but not enough to give him much confidence. At least not enough to set his mind at ease. He was beginning to suspect that Rourke and the rest of the Human Villains weren't going to be deterred so easily. He couldn't predict how they might find ways around Jim's warning, but that didn't mean they wouldn't think of something.
"It means that Marcaline will fight against anyone coming here to claim the town for their leaders," he stated simply, keeping his reservations about the town's ability to fight off an invading army to himself. It would bring destruction to the town no matter what happened if anyone did invade. "It doesn't mean that Rourke feller can't cause trouble," he added after a moment.
He rose to his feet again, and padded over to a window, gazing out over the snow-covered streets and houses of the town, resting his nose on the windowsill. If the war did come to Marcaline, Trusty would fight tooth and nail in its defense, ready to give his life in defense of the master who could barely even take care of himself. But the thought sickened him. Not for his own sake, but for the sake of the innocent people who would get hurt.
"What else? Anything?" he asked after a moment, not looking back.
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Sept 11, 2021 15:41:41 GMT -5
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Post by Scamp on Jan 17, 2015 0:21:40 GMT -5
As Trusty looked out into the cold, Scamp closed his eyes and thought back to the Pridelands. It felt so strange, as if he was thinking back to a distant dream. Or a nightmare. If his speculations where enough to keep the mutt up at night, reading the actual declaration made the pup's blood run ice cold. A somber reality that even here, in the warm parlor of their old New England home, the war was not far away. It's dark tendrils snakeing across the distances to touch the unaware and the unknowing. Would anywhere truly be safe?
He suddenly found his mind visualizing two faces, newborn, nuzzling into the furry chest of their war-beaten mother.
Trusty's words snapped the mongrel from his private thoughts. He shook his head, ears flopping about stupidly, before focusing back on the missive at hand.
"Uh...let me look."
He started to draw his claw across the letters. Looking for anything more conclusive. Most of the remainder was descriptions of Marceline's boarders, and the land and territory that made up the town proper. However, the pup's ears shot forward when he heard a sound from upstairs. It was no doubt the soft thumps of Jim Dear's feet hitting the floor alongside the bed. His master was awake.
"Oh shit." Scamp intently hissed under his breath, his head shooting up to focus on the ceiling. While he didn't know exactly what sort of crimes and political misdemeanors getting caught opening war correspondence was, he knew it would be severe. More then a night chained to the doghouse. He whipped his head over, looking over his own shoulder at his uncle, speaking in a hushed tone before scrambling his claws across the spread messages, working to slip them back into the envelope.
"That's Jim Dear! He's up early!"
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Nov 15, 2024 7:59:02 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jan 17, 2015 22:46:27 GMT -5
Deep in his thoughts as he was, Trusty didn't miss the tell-tale sounds of feet thumping against the floor in the bedroom overhead. For a moment, he stared up at the ceiling, a feeling of dread creeping across him, then he spurred himself into action, padding swiftly over to the desk, straightening the papers scattered there as best he could with his big paws, and the occasional nudge of his nose.
"Quickly! Get that missive sealed, but be careful. It won't take but a second or two for that wax to get soft," he ordered softly, padding swiftly away from the writing desk and taking the knife between his jaws once again. He moved swiftly to the kitchen, taking extra care not to make any noise, and placed it on the counter by the drawer it came from before sliding the drawer open. Tall as he was, he didn't need any assistance reaching it.
Once the knife was back in its drawer, he paused to listen for a moment, dreading the sound of footsteps on the stairs. If Jim was like most humans Trusty knew, he'd make straight for the kitchen, and coffee. He seized the chair Scamp had used to reach the drawer between his teeth, and hoisted it bodily off the floor, awkwardly maneuvered it back to its place before very carefully setting it down. Wheezing a bit from the exertion, he rejoined Scamp in the parlor, unwilling to abandon the young mutt.
"Is it sealed?" he asked softly, an urgent tone evident in his voice. If Jim made for the kitchen first, Trusty knew he'd have to very carefully avoid him unless he could figure out some reason to explain his presence in the house. One that wasn't an outright lie. He didn't' feel he could, honestly.
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