[h1][color=aqua]Captain Aldrich[/color][/h1]
[@Empour]
The Captain's behind tingled in a way that made him angry. An itch bit at him that not even the handle of his trusty shooter could scratch. He growled as he picked up the bottle once more and raised it to his mouth to remove the cork with his teeth. Twice-damned sea monsters and their thrice-damned wriggling boneless limbs. He'd rather face sirens and sea serpents again before touching another tentacled terror. 

He stopped an inch short of biting down on the cork, hearing another voice in the forest nearby. Another beastie? His body didn't take chances, and moved quick to turn and point the pistol again. This time the barrel came to a rest on an elderly man, grey in the beard but spry in the step. He looked almost as fit as Aldrich himself. He was definitely shorter, as Aldrich angled the pistol towards the old man's gut. He was just waiting for a tentacle or two to come spilling from the man's chattering maw.

"Ya-what Woods?" He questioned as he stepped closer with an angry grimace on his face. The bottle fell as he went to pick up his blade and sheathe it once more. "I've been booted onto this lovely little rock by my former compatriots." The pistol's powder was wet, but the old man didn't seem to be a threat. Aldrich was wet, cold and bruised. He was in no shape to be starting wars with what could be friendly natives. He glared for a moment, before lowering the pistol and picking up his bottle once more.

"Have you any water, or food?" He said with a growl, toting the heavy bottle, "If I keep drinking this I'll be leaving bits of my stomach all over the woods."

He rubbed at the trigger-guard, biting at his lip softly. The pistol was harmless, but the old man needn't know that. "What about a camp?" He asked cautiously.