Voyage of the Devastator.

[Tass, Nathan and Brine]

Tass stood on the prow of the devastator, he looked out at the sun rising over the sea. Tass had purchased the devastator with the combined wages of Nathan, brine, and of course, him. Devastator seemed A melodramatic name but at least the boat almost deserved it, it could hold 50 people plus A fair amount of cargo. He had gotten the boat for A small sum of money considering it's size from from A wealthy trader who had gotten A new boat and had nothing to do with his old one. Tass already had A voyage planned, he had planned it two days ago when A former pirate in the western settlement had told him about the northern isles and A settlement there, it was being raided almost daily by pirates and the like. He had asked Rina if he could go right away, his request was granted and now the supplies were loaded on the boat, now all he needed was A crew. He patted the ballista that was next to him on the prow, it was Nathan's pride and joy, he had spent two long months making it. It's stand was bolted to the deck, it had A huge screw in the middle of it so the ballista part could swivel. It's main part was shaped like A long crossbow and it could fire round rocks or long arrows. Tass walked by it and stood by the gangplank that people could board the ship on, he looked at the waterfront.

"come here if you want A position on A warship!"

He shouted at the people already milling about on the waterfront.

[Shard Prime]

Arcticus Crowley awoke from his drunken slumber as he tumbled from a rotting crate that was being transported by two burly rats to a cargo ship; they had dropped it on the ramp by accident. They merely exchanged looks of confusion as the hungover weasel tumbled all the way down the loading ramp, swearing many times on the way to the bottom; they shrugged and moved along to the next crate to be loaded. Crowley groaned at his rotten luck and stood, staggering along the coast. How the hell did he get in a crate? The aging weasel looked down to his paw, finding that he was holding a wine bottle, miraculously undamaged by his rolling trip down the ramp. It was half-full. He half-shrugged and brought it to his mouth, taking a long swig of it. Now where am I? He was a bit more focused now, and stumbled inland a few meters to get a better view of the place (and because he was walking in the shallows). "I see..." Crowley took another gulp of wine. "...Ships." He groaned, wondering how he got all the way to the shore, and how long it would take him to get back to the tavern. Oh well, he thought. At least I've got good spirits. He giggled to himself about his unsaid joke and took a draught of wine. The weasel began to walk further inland, a bit steadier now, when a shout stood out to him:

"Come here if you want a position on a warship!"

Crowley disregarded it at first, until he went to take another drink. He cursed quite loudly and threw the empty bottle onto the ground, causing it to shatter. Then a thought occurred to him: shouldn't a ship be well-stocked? With food and, more importantly to him, drink? He was able-bodied for a drunk; he should be able to be a decent crewbeast. Why not? Crowley turned around and headed in the direction of the call, trying to seem sober, but failing. He adjusted the partially-rusted sword that hung from his belt and dusted off his faded uniform as he approached the one who made the shout. Crowley stared up at him, though it made him dizzy, and called back to him, slightly slurring his words and studdering in his drunkenness, "Ahoy, Cappin'! I'll come ab—abou—aboard!"

[aeroflyte]

"Gerroffit!" Teylan growled to a scrawny seagull, flailing his arm at it in an attempt to deter it from stealing his pasty. His paw stuck feathers, and the gull squawked indignantly and sloppily took to the air, a crumb of its aspired meal in its talons. Grumbling, Teylan stooped over and picked the half-eaten pasty of of the cobblestones. Despite his gruff demeanor, the otter was actually quite happy. This was logical, as any otter's disposition improved miraculously the closer they got to water. Teylan was, by origin, a river otter, but any relatively large body of water suited him.
He took a large bite out of the steak-and-ale pasty, chewing contentedly as he stood up from the ground and strolled aimlessly deeper into the heart of the port. On one side, a ramshackle village was set up, buildings resembling large blocks stacked thoughtlessly on top of one another, with laundry lines strewn between. Rats strode beside voles, otters beside hedgehogs, and Teylan even spotted the rare badger. The smell of fish-- some rotting, some fresh-- pervaded everything, only to be trumped by the stiff, salty breeze that was almost constantly blowing. On his other side, there lay the sea, and upon it the ships for which this place had been built. Ranging from Galleon to Dory, almost every one of the vessels were teeming with activity. A few crowds were gathered around a few that were either boarding, selling wares, or recruiting passengers or crew. A larger ship caught Teylan's eye, and he took another bite. The Kestrel Was its name, as marked on the side. This took a few seconds for Teylan to puzzle over, seeing as he had little knowledge of the written language. He swallowed, speculatively. At least he was able to read that much, which was an improvement from several weeks ago... He sighed, batted away a ferret's hand that was straying towards his dilapidated pouch, and scanned the rest of the ships. Wavebreaker, The Scuttlebrine, The Seahawk, The Bellatrix... His gaze lingered on a new looking ship with clean-cut lines, a sizable deck, a ballistae, and a distinctive lack of personnel. A ballistae? On a ship? Intrigued, he pushed forward through the throngs. The Devastator... Not the most original name, but you can't judge a ship by its title... Teylan shoved the rest of his meal into his mouth and swallowed hastily. Treading up the gangplank gingerly, in case of splinters, he paused at the top edge, saluting at a squirrel who looked to be Captain, and shooting a strange look at a presumably drunk ferret to his (Teylan's) left. Something struck him as odd, and he looked at the squirrel further. He grinned. "Boats n' barnacles! I didn't know ye had a ship, Tass!"

--
Ta-da! Behold the wall of text! This didn't take too long, actually...

[Riska Longarm]

" Just hold it right...no, not there. There! Now get me my...what? No, don't even dare you little—get back here! I need that more than you do!" Riska hollered at the small otter getting away with her the only fresh mussels on the store's shelf. She swung her head down and lingered to the clerk, a large otter with an apron. " You got anymore? I have to make a new recipe for my friends."
The otter gazed at her and nodded. " Fresh from the sea herself! Here you go, and have nice day." He handed Riska a basket of mussels and she smiled politely and walked away. Riska was an unusual weasel, she was always friendly, even to the enemy...(though she's dumb enough not to know who the enemy is...) and she has the amazing talent for cooking. At that moment, she was to make a batch of Glob (that's what she calls it...its a mixture of seafood....mainly for the otters that occasionally pass by the shop) for her friends for their new "adventures".

Riska arrived at her home, a small house attached to a tree. Right away, she went to cooking. Pans and spatulas went flying and the scurry of paws that went this way and that. Soon, the smell of mussels and clams filled the deserted area where Riska lived. " All done!" Satisfied, Riska put the food away and crept up to her bedroom and went to sleep.

Knock knock knock. " Tass? You there?" Riska banged her paw against the door of the squirrel's home again. " Guess not. But I just have to find him! Oh—!" Riska remembered that Tass was bragging about a new ship and he would be at the docks to find who would come and sea explore with him.

The docks were crowded and she had no idea on how she was going to find a small squirrel in the mixture of sea beasts. Then came the glorious voice:
"come here if you want A position on A warship!"

" Tass!" Riska ran up the the enormous ship and there stood Tass right by the gangplank. A few beasts were with him and one she recognized. Crowley. By then, Tass and the others were boarding. " Tass! Hold up! I got something!"
Tass wheeled around as Riska sprinted up the plank. Out of breath, Riska shoved the cooked meal into his hand. His confused look caused her to giggle. She slowly made her way to Crowley. " Here." Riska handed him the food. " It might taste weird, but at least you'll make it through the day." She smiled and walked off the ship. " Don't want to hold up yawl's fun! See you back at home soon!" Riska waved her paw and walked back down to the docks. Waiting until they leave.

——

OOC: At the beginning, Riska is talking to a young otter that was "helping" her...but stole her food and money instead. ^^ my very first good RP in a long time!