Stavanger Bay I hope we stay thick as thieves, butter and bread

The cur continued to belt out his song, offending even the gulls overhead with his raucous off-tune voice. His crowing only ceased when a call from the distance piqued his interest and Blurry turned quickly on the spot, spying an approaching Ferahgo. The man was rough and uncouth but the closest thing to family the wretched little coywolf had, and so his tail waved jovially as he called back, "Hoy, Cap'n!"

The submissive posture was automatic and so normal for Blurryface that he wasn't even conscious of it any longer. He oft sported it even without anyone around. His tail wiggled as he was pushed roughly aside, and almost proudly he declared, "thar be two o' them pinchy walkin' barnacles an' a salt fish, Cap'n, good an' dead like ye likes 'em." Okay, maybe Ferahgo wasn't a fan of already killed cuisine, but Blurryface wasn't well known for his ability to do exactly what was asked of him all the time. He blundered far too often, but he did his best.

"Oi, Cap'n," he blathered on, "thar be a righ' shiny chest off th'starboard. I saw it wit' me own eyes. I bet thar's a nice bit o' treasure fer the plunderin'." He cracked a mischievous grin. Blurryface hadn't dared to touch it by himself, but with Ferahgo here, there could be nothing wrong with taking a look. The captain would get the booty anyway.