[h1][color=slategray]Jolly Gutters[/color][/h1]
[hr]
Gutters was situated on the deck of the airship still. He was seated on an overturned barrel that had rolled its way down the slight grade the crash had formed, against one of the mast poles. He was holding an old glass cup in his hands, rubbing it with his filthy rags for clothes, attempting to clean it. All he was doing was smudging it even more. He slowly grew an angrier and angrier look on his face as he checked every few seconds to see if his own face could be seen on the surface of the glass. And he never did.

[color=slategray]“Don’t play games with me…”[/color] He said. To the glass. [color=slategray]“I NEED this…”[/color]

Gutters continued to rub the glass, but it was to no avail. After one last, half-second examination, he yelled and threw the glass over the railing to his right. He panted a bit as he stared out into the Fog for a moment, then turned his head, lowered it, and cradled it in his hands. All the time he’d spent on this shipwreck, he’d been looking for reflective surfaces to examine himself with. There wasn’t a single intact mirror onboard. All the glasses were dirty and smudged. Nothing was good enough to use at all.

In the midst of his despair, something sounded nearby. Gutters’ gaze shot up as he looked onward to see a small creature creeping up over the railing. Wolf-sized. Looked like a little wyvern with gray scales. He didn’t recognize it, but for clarification’s sake, its locally known brand as a “cliffracer” will be used henceforth. The cliffracer growled at Gutters as it slowly planted itself on the deck of the ship. The man’s vision went wide as he stood up and laughed. [color=slategray]“And where the hell have YOU been?”[/color] He said aloud, pulling out from within his coat the same old pistol he’d taken from the late captain. The cliffracer snapped its maw as Gutters inched forward, holding up the pistol, taking aim. [color=slategray]“I have been… SO patient with you… but NOT anymore!”[/color]

The cliffracer lunged, and Gutters’ eye went wide. He gritted his teeth as he fired, striking the creature in its neck. It landed on him, pinning him to the deck and knocking the pistol from his hand. The wound disorientated it, and gave Gutters the chance to retaliate. He wrapped one of his arms around the cliffracer’s slender neck, and then he proceeded to brandish a rusty dagger from his coat pocket, and jabbed it into the bullet wound. The cliffracer thrashed about, attempting to break free. But Gutters kept an almost [i]inhuman[/i] level of strength as he held the creature close to him, twisting the dagger and ripping up its throat.

The cliffracer’s thrashing quickly began to die down. Gutters’ scowl and grin slowly began to fade as he held onto the creature. Moments after it went limp, he shoved it off of him and stood up. He stared down at it for a moment, before he turned and walked over to pick up the pistol.

The moment he did, though… more growls.

He turned his head. Three more cliffracers had climbed up over the rails.

Gutters’ eye went wide, and he twitched some. He quickly threw aside the dagger and grabbed an old sword from one of the nearby dead crewmen’s hands and raised it up. The cliffracers encroached his position.

And he yelled.