Cerulean Cape driving on the sidewalk, looking back and the sky is burning in my rear-view mirror

There were the good corsairs and the bad; the good followed a code, and looked out for one another. They were the sorts you banded together with. Unfortunately for him, this wolf was not what he thought he was. Dragon realized his mistake as soon as the other male's expression shifted, and it was confirmed as the wolf spoke, his accent coming through so thick and distinct that there was no believing it was coastal born. Or at least not of any coast he knew of.

"Sea-wolfs, yeah," he said, his mood considerably deflated. But his ears perked to the mention of a 'croizy' sea wolf over yonder. He licked his lips, his gaze momentarily travelling to the island Murgash had gestured at. The fellow's definition of crazy could mean anything, especially since it could be argued that all corsairs were a bit crazy.

"Dragon," he returned. Curiosity bit at him.  "Crazy how?"