Tales of Cascadia:Chapter Two~Calm before the storm
Chapter Two~ Calm before the Storm
1 month later..................
Garus rolled and licked his cotton mouthed lips, turning onto his side for the untold time as his dreams were odd ones indeed. It was like the sea was full of gold, which for a privateer that isn't too odd especially for the black furred pae'pae, but what made it really odd was the strange symbols on the bars and coins, or how overly erotic the jewel encrusted statues were even for him, which was saying a lot if you asked any of the tavern workers or fellow dockhands. And he could almost hear a strangely musical voice, and a deep scrap beside him, the more natural sound snapping him out of his stupor, watching the black, grey and white peppered feminine paw pull away from a tin plate full of food, fresh biscuits, bacon, grits and eggs. His stomach grumbled and he thanked the woman that seemed to always visit by his overturned longboat and barrels that made his humble lil home, or lack of home in other people's eyes. It wasn't his fault the crew that he sailed with purposely left him behind or decided to hold his 4 month pay instead of going into his now empty pouch. He picked up a biscuit and pulled the torn and tattered cloth aside and crawled out into the soft sun, turning and watching the lovely lass that was his own angel walk down to the end of the pier, every day she could be seen standing and watching the horizon from dawn to dusk, whoever she was waiting for he thought, was a lucky and blessed man indeed.
He reached down and pulled out the plate and his belt, setting the food on top of the boat and used both paws to fasten the buckle and tightened it around it lean waist, well not so lean with real food in his stomach this last few months, crumbles of sweetbread dribbled from his mouth as he refused to set the food from his muzzle down , a look of concentration on his face as he turned the sheathed dagger from poking his tail and made sure his worn and slightly rusty cutlass was hanging rightly at his side. All set he leaned down into his makeshift home and pulled his hat and pouch and took his time eating, knowing it would be the only meal for the day unless he found work, and that meant needing strength.
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Kor'ma sat at her table, going over the latest invoices passed out to all Captains coming in going from the harbor, such a warm and welcoming day outside his open cabin window, a peaceful blue jewel out one direction and the smells and sounds of a busy and prospering city just a view away out the other, so deceptive compared to the news of disappearing ships and strange going ons near the string of islands known as father's arms, normally a trading post between countries and some say the smaller island home to more then natives, but it seems less and less of the painted and almost nude tribes have all but vanished, not one has been seen wandering into the one and only sea port of Fairway in weeks, which normally during their strange holidays was fine but some eyes have taken account, some even saying their simple fishing villages have seemed empty as well and not one of their sturdy leather boats could be found saved one floating lazily tied to a small wooden pier, but non have been brave enough to actually set foot on the sand and see, in fear of disease or worse.
She ran a paw up to stroke the long braid that ran down her shoulder, a bead, skull, coin or trinket from every time she made port in the arms, and quite a few of them were from close and good friends of those villagers. Turning her head with a sigh she looked over the pile of reports, copies of ship logs she had to still sign on for the dock heads and knowing with the arms being avoided my most people at least the southern section, trips would take much longer then needed, but at least that meant more coin in her pocket, but she felt an unease and a growing curiosity in her stomach, finally standing up from her chair, and checking herself in the mirror before setting out, her fur was a light cream color, well groomed if a little long spoke of her time at sea yet a spirit of discipline, but her modest grey, blue and white uniform could not hide the ample bosom and lovely curves she earned from a life of constant movement and well earned meals from countless voyages, expeditions and even a war or two under her worn belt, yet her grey blue eyes spoke of a hunger, always seeming to gaze off to the next horizon that lead many to think she was a daydreamer by nature. She took a drink of her tea, draining the cup and with a quick grab of her white gloves shut the door behind her personal cabin and greet the day.