Dead Wolf Walking

Graveless
"Man, dyings a drag."

Harlan walked through the busy streets, people giving him looks. He was a half-mink after all, what did he expect? But he reckoned a few of them recognized him from his old bounty poster. “Stop fuckin’ staring, before I pop a cap in ya!” he yelled. Those staring at him snapped to face elsewhere.

Harlan looked down at his new armour, he still wasn’t used to it. After he had “died”,. The pirates battle with Gambi Marlow had been more difficult than anticipated. He’d be dead if he hadn’t jumped into the water and been saved by sheer chance. Harlan had gotten much stronger since he had died, with some more training of course. But now he was trying to find a way back home, if he could call it that. Brine, where those other pirates were. The one whos crew he had joined; those Round Table Pirates.

He sighed, stumbling into a small restaurant. His mind flashed back to the dinner he had with his old family, the. A little “hellhound”, they had called him. Harlan had no idea why that thought manifested itself in his mind, but he had started using that new epithet since he returned from the dead. It was much more catchy than his old one. The half-mink shoved those thoughts aside, plopping down on a seat. “Oi, waiter!” he yelled. “Bring me a steak! I’m starving!”