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?
Ooh, a pirate captain meeting another pirate captian, how fun?
It wasn't unusual to catch Depp roaming about the coast, bored out of his mind, luckily this was not one of those times. For he was drunk. Yes indeed, it only be about an hour ago where he consumed overly ripe apples and was now journeying his favorite part of land–the beach. How often he longed to travel the coast once more, to have infinite supply of alcohol at his call? Quite often. It was a miracle when he found the fermented fruit lying beside a young tree, he thought he died and went to Heaven. Him having quite the troubling time, possibly being a future father and the possibility of his children's mother to kill them the moment they were born clouded his mind, but with the wonderful, intoxicating apples he was now free of the burden...for now, that is.
When trotting through the sand of the coast line, he caught the scent of another not too far away. It was familiar, but definitely not well known. He paused a moment, processing whether a not he should follow the smell, and sure enough he did, forth he went with a stagger–not caused by his drink, but simply because that was how he walked. It wasn't long until another wolf was insight, and he began to slow his broken walk. "Hello there, mate." He showed off a toothy smile. "What brings you too the shore?"
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