“Aye lads, our next gig be from one of tha royals up in tha north. ‘e wants a kelpie, a selkie, n’ a mer.” A stoic-looking woman who appeared to be in her late 30s called out to the some 20 men and women currently on the deck of the ship, The Giver. Her crew all cried out in different types of excitement, eager for the new hunt. Captain Erga Yorkshire gave a predatory smile, basking in the joy of hearing her people’s joy. Captain Yorkshire was a woman you didn’t want to mess with by looks alone. She was a stocky blond lady whose hair was almost always fashioned in a Viking braid. Her piercing blue eyes held some sort of cold and calculating look, only those who truly knew her could make out the kindhearted gaze hidden within her. “We set sail immediately!”
Below deck in the hold of the ship, Taloon was busy cleaning away the cages and stalls that held the crew’s freshly departed batch of creatures they had, a hydra hatchling that the crew managed to acquire after slaying its mother and a juvenile Quetzalcoatl, which they captured after breaking its wing and rendering it flightless. The redhead, who was lost in thought while scrubbing a fresh puddle of blood from the floorboards, got jerked back into reality when one of the other stablemates, a cruel man named Dawson, hollered down to him about the new batch of creatures they were going to hunt before taking his leave.
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