Blackbeak Bluff skeleton crew

Hoping for a non-BC wolf

The Captain found himself unaccompanied on the shore, discontented despite the recent progression toward one of his goals, which had not come without compromise; something Ferahgo was never keen on. Left to the feral workings of his mind, he was bitter, bored, and all the more irate that he had consumed the last of the rum a while back. To make that matter worse, there were no fruits and berries available to make more. He cursed the gluttony of Ruffian, and scolded himself for having let the bastard live after he had failed to deliver a proper supply of rum.

He missed the days of Tortuga, of his solo reign at the head of a bloodthirsty and perilous crew. He missed the raids, and the triumph at seeing his coffers overflowing. He had nothing here, he noted with scowl. He was Captain — no, only co-Captain now — of a fine ship but without a crew on deck and none to be scavenged. He had his swab, Erz, and a couple of pathetic wenches. The realization made him pause, standing still on the beach with his gaze cast fiercely ahead as he ground his teeth. Though he would not admit this had been a failed venture, something needed to change.

But what was Ferahgo to do?