Furret

Furret came to the Isle from another seaward island called Eddit, a mad and rowdy place where no one wears pants, and chaos reigns supreme. He thrived on this island, but soon grew bored of it, casting his eyes to the horizon and dreaming of sailing the seas. He built his own boat, despite never having done so before, a ramshackle and wild contraption which nonetheless remained watertight during his tests. During a particularly mad episode on the island that would be inappropriate to recount here, he decided his time had come, and he disembarked into a cool clear day with calm seas, and waved goodbye to his home, setting a course for adventure.

He drifted somewhat aimlessly for a couple days, picking up his sailing skills by trial and error, with far more of the latter than the former. But it did not concern him; he was enjoying freedom, and a break from the absolute chaos of his home. What did concern him was his growing hunger and dwindling food stores. He hadn’t bothered with planning or rationing, so that was beginning to become desperate. So he tried his hand at fishing, but when he lost all his bait with no success, he decided to try his feet at it instead. Dipping his toes into the water, he waited for a fish to come for a nibble, and then he would haul it on deck. He had far more success with this method.

Shouting his joy with a whoop, he set about building a fire to roast his catch. On a wooden boat. This venture went predictably poorly, and he had to tear a plank loose from his doomed vessel and dive into the sea with it as the rest was consumed by the blaze. He had salvaged one of the fish, and had roasted it in the conflagration, and so he now sat floating in the sea, eating his catch with a smile while he watched his ship go down. But the seas gradually became rougher, and a keening wind picked up and tossed him about. He hung on for dear life, laughing despite his mortal danger: adventure he had wanted, and adventure he now had.

Just as he began to think he might actually die, a curious figure drifted down through the sky toward him, and alighted on his plank. He wondered at what a pudgy yellow bird might be doing fluttering about during a storm in the middle of the ocean, but had little time to indulge the curiosity, as the waves finally managed to snap his plank in twain, and send him sinking to the depths. The current dragged him this way and that, and never let him come up for air, until he finally went unconscious from the strain.

He came to as if by miracle, surprisingly not dead and washed ashore on an island much like his own. After scrubbing the sand from his eyes, he looked about - and found the strange little bird perched over him, peering at him intently. When he gained his feet, the bird took off from the tree branch and let out a piercing scream, looping about and repeating it until Furret made to follow the bird. The bird’s shrill calls led him further down the beach and into the forest a little ways, where a small boat sat shipwrecked, but salvageable. When he laid his hand on it, the bird alighted on his shoulder, and let out one of its shrieks, which Furret echoed back in thanks.

After patching up the vessel, he put out to sea in it again, the bird atop his shoulder the whole way. He spent much of the voyage mimicking the bird’s cries, sure he could puzzle out its language with enough time. But they arrived at Isla de Oro before much progress was made, and Furret pulled their boat onto the shore. When he deboarded, however, the bird finally left his shoulder, and remained behind on the boat. After a few futile attempts to speak to the bird in its own shrill dialect, he simply asked what the matter was in his own. At this, the bird hopped to the wheel of the boat, and let out the longest wail he had yet heard. And he understood. His own adventuring days were at a bit of a close, but this bird, this guardian spirit, would never stay on land for long. It had done its duty, and it was now time for their parting.

So he pushed the ship back out to sea, and watched as the bird steered for the horizon, and sailed away. With a tear in his eye, he turned to introduce himself to the pirates who had begun gathering during his odd episode. In time, he found a place for himself among these fine lads, and joined the crew of the Bleeding Rose, making his way to the position of Master at Arms. His signature cry, his own personal testament to the creature who had wrested him from the jaws of certain death, is a herald for his vessel and crew. And he has particular fascination and love for all the Isle’s birds, and can be seen using his free hours to study those that he finds, always attempting to pick up their particular languages for himself.

Stranger things are the case on the Isle. Surely.

* Isla de Oro Wiki
* The Island
* The Town
* The Council of Bones
* The Fleet
* The Captains
* The Officers
* The Nightwatch
* NPCs
* The Library
* The Hall of Legends