Sea Lion Shores and a bottle of rum!

This forward-dated to some days after his joining at HR ;)

"Avast, ye spineless sea-dogs!" the youthful Jolly Roger crowed, fighting for his voice to be heard over the raucous, throaty barks of the sleekly finned beach-dwellers. There weren't as many here now as there soon would be come mid-spring, but he was impressed by their numbers nonetheless, having never seen so many in one place as most sea lions had typically avoided the dangerously wolf-littered isle of Tortuga.

Surely there was something worth taking from here—even if the smell of them was particularly deterring. (Salt, which was one of his favorite scents, didn't seem to be helping either.) But this would not stop the wolf's intended assault.

They ignored him for the most part, leaving him to walk around them, but some of the more wary creatures hobbled uncomfortably out of his way as he pranced through. "Prepare t'be pillaged an' plundered by thee migh-ty Cap'n Jolly Roger!" he further shouted, which was met by an irritated horn-like call of a nearby bull, who nipped at the space between Roger's lower thigh and hock, immediately drawing blood. "OW! Why ye li'l—" he snapped, whirling around to retaliate on the sneaky beast. Only a sudden WHOOSH and subsequent CRASH of the surf distracted him from the violent rebuttal.

"Oh shit!" A massive orca had come ashore, snatching up a (unfortunately) too-close sea lion, and then rocking back into ocean with its bloody kill in crying tow. Roger stood frozen in shock at the occurrence, while the smarter mammals all began to honk and scurry and blubber further up the beach, well into safety. He watched mutely as the sea swallowed up the dichromatic animal again, as well as all the blood it had spilled.