• Scribber of the High Isle

    “Alright, mateys, lissen up, says I!” Slicer the Rat growled. He was attempting to lay out his plan to lay siege to the Diamond Isles, but his crew was in no mood to hear him. Entranced and beguiled by the thought of the beautiful rat wenches they would find on shore, all attention and focus sailed off the quarterdeck like a lone gully rag in a strong wind. Slicer growled louder. The noise on deck desisted little. Necrid, a particulary annoying bit of young rat scum, was flicking bits of metal wire at his fellow crewmates, which riled them up even further. He was oblivious to Slicer, who stalked up behind him. Slicer the Rat would have order, and have order now. Necrid flicked a bit of wire high over his own head, laughing impishly…

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