Places to be, places to be. Not that Bast didn’t like Pincher (he didn’t), but he had a few more invited to give that morning, so he tracked down a NPC on the border and told them to take news of the fourth party back to the rest of the pirate bunch. And then he was off, because again, places to be.

PARTY PARTY PARTY

"Nobody is fucking going anywhere." Pincher bluntly ordered in a demanding tone, clearly one that held no patience for being questioned. He was sorting small weapons that he had found in the flooded shores of the beach, mostly dented and dull due to the strike of the tsunami. He didn't even bother glancing away from his work in sharpening the edges of the blades, his cold calculative oceanic blue eyes narrowed with concentration as he sorted a dagger into a large brown bag that lay on the floorboards of the treehouses where everyone was located temporarily for. He had heard that the raptors that had attacked his crew had been spotted in the territory of the Ascendants as they were some of fucking pets and that disgusted Pincher to the point that the temptation to stir a revengeful desire to strike back.

"I bet they are celebrating that shitty holiday that stupid humans had...something I frankly don't want to give a shit about remembering." Pincher's voice drawled out as he rolled his glacier colored razor sharp gaze as his thin tar black pupils decided to finally glance towards the direction of the spotted savannah that had brought news. He shrugged his broad shoulders as he muttered "If you want to go crash and destroy some shit, go the fuck ahead but don't get caught. Last thing I want is more injured crewmates."