>>5770275>>5770278>>5770279>>5770346>>5770372More cannon fire rolls in, and soon both of you hear the townspeople screaming and scrambling for safety. Children cry for their parents, officers shout orders to their underlings, and the pirates yell their war cries, all while thundering booms crash along the coastline.
It may not be your homeland, but you've come to care for the townsfolk all the same.
"Neither of us can sail if we're dead, fur-face. And I made a vow to myself years ago; I'm destined for the sea. I'm not dying here, not today." You declare.
The Ursidae grunts in response, "An accord?"
You laugh, tickled by his bravado and lack of hesitation. Perhaps the furball isn't so bad after all. You study the tattered and dirty wraps around his fists and wrists. You've seen these types of wrappings before, on some of the <span class="mu-s">Kalastine Monks</span> who had arrived for last year's Hurram festivities, but they were never this worn out and soiled. The Ursidae's seen a thing or two, clearly.
<span class="mu-i">I can work with this,</span> You think, as you offer your hand to the Ursidae.
"Name's Bora. Mad Hog Bora to my enemies."
The Ursidae grunts again, and this time you sense a bit of approval underneath the gruffness. "<span class="mu-s">Sigur</span>." He replies bluntly.
"Right then, Sigur. Follow me."
Cont.
