[h1][color=skyblue]Coastal Vigil[/color][/h1]
The appearance of a ship at The Continent's shore had drawn the attention of more than a few of the Vigils. They stood atop a rocky outcrop further downwind of the Salt Dagger's temporary moorings, watching silently and waiting. Waiting for a departure.

As one of the more extravagantly-dressed occupants was thrown from the ship, and it began to sail away, the congregation dispersed with the knowledge that only one had disembarked onto the sands. And with that one, stayed one of the Vigils.

From its twisted shell, it stared on as the pirate threw on his gear and began a sullen march inland, toward the forested areas. A mollusk scuttled from cavity to cavity on the shell and with a shake of its blue, stretched limbs, the Vigil raised a hand to the bottom of its shell. The other went to the large opening atop its shell-head. 

It straightened up, raised its head and...

[h1][color=aqua]Captain Aldrich[/color][/h1]
A horn sounded in the distance as his ship sailed away without him. The [s]Ex-[/s]Captain sucked the dregs of moonshine from his lip and corked the bottle again, rumbling deep in his throat as he felt the burn of the liquor as it went down once more. Doing his best to ignore the noise and sounds of merriment from the now-distant ship, and that peculiar horn. The bottle in his hand was still heavy, long enough to nearly touch the ground from his dangling grip, and the brew was strong. He would need to preserve it until he found a running water source. This wasn't his first marooning, which helped his nerves. His first mutiny, sure. Always a first time for everything, as his mentor always yammered at him. Right before he slapped a sword in his hand and told him to dance the Daisy Darling.

Imperial customs, in hindsight, were worrying.

Thankfully the undergrowth and vegetation past the treeline wasn't the most difficult of terrain. He'd seen worse untraveled wilds but this place seemed to have had some traffic, and rather recently. He wasn't the best of trackers, but broken branches and shifted grass didn't take a pack of hounds to understand. Boots sloshing and breeches beginning to chafe, he trudged slowly through nature and stopped routinely to be unimpressed at his current state of affairs. He would have started to feel sorry for himself had he been a man for lamentation. 

And had a growl not erupted from a bushel behind him.

His mind had not fully registered a threat as his hand flicked for his blade quicker than a rat through a pantry. The draw was silent, and silver flashed in the light of the moon as Aldrich struggled to pierce the dark and see what had made the noise. He should have brought the torch from the shore. Rather, he SHOULD have gutted Berhtr the moment he started giving him sideways looks in the galley, then he'd never be in the ass-end of nowhere with his blade drawn to face a...

Fox.

Aldrich lowered his blade with a huff, kicking a boot out at the mange-ridden mutt. "Shoo, little blighter." It recoiled, but didn't retreat. Merely staring him down as he sheathed his blade and stared back in kind. He was in unfamiliar territory. He inquired to the fox, furiously fiddling with the buckle of his belt. "Tread on your turf, have I? Well, we can't have that."

It was a few moments before he was marking territory of his own, right there in front of the creature. His anger sometimes got the better of him, his mentor always told him. Right now he was more concerned with the look of fear he was garnering from the beastie in the bushel. "What, mutt? Scared of what you can't scare off?" He said with a growing chuckle before the fox's retreat made him tilt his head. The feeling of sea-spray on the nape of his neck calmed him for a moment, before he realized where he was. And felt an unfamiliar chill on his rear.

The Vigil had arrived.

In a gesture that seemed more at home in a drinkhouse or rum den, the Vigil reared back and gave Aldrich a quick lash with its quivering tentacle. The cold sting was slightly familiar, but unwelcome, and in the next instant a flash of silver had severed the writhing limb. Aldrich wheeled around, one hand grabbing for his falling breeches with bottle in hand as the other took up an offensive stance with his blade. The Vigil swayed for a moment, before turning tail and barrelling away. The Captain dropped his blade and fumbled for his pistol as he redid his belt, dropping it too as he secured his pants. With a quick dip, he picked it up again before squeezing the trigger with the shell-headed creature in his sights. A click, a fizzle and then nothing as the Vigil bounded over a rock and disappeared.

Aldrich looked to his pistol with a grimace, and rubbed at his right arsecheek. The skin crawled as he hissed in pain and annoyance. The powder was wet and now his behind was both soaked and slimy.

"The lads would die if they saw me now." He grumbled.