Wheeling Gull Isle pinkie pie's party cannon

I pped your ass a bit, Blurry LOL. You know the drill!

The salty wolf curled a lip over his fang as his swab came barrelling in between himself and his new recruit. It was a wonder, not only to those around him but to him himself, that the Captain tolerated him the way that he did; any other wolf would have found theirself dead at his feet. Instead, all Blurry received was a clout across the snout with one of Ferahgo's paws. "Good, now get out'a me way, Scurvyface!" He did not wait for his orders to be carried out, he ensured it by shoving his swab off to the side as he returned his attention to Habit.

"Pay no heed to he, he's useful, but irritating." Perhaps that was an understatement. His swab was a total urchin. He lived under the protection that fear of the Captain's wrath granted him. Ferahgo would never extend a hair on his hide to save the daft creature; but he threatened all not to touch him in the first place.

"Now, flotsam, tell me of your life before you joined me crew, eh?"