A/N: Pyrah: A-a couple of years 0.0 Ah well... it'll be a couple of years before *this* story gets finished :P Yes, I'm gonna have a lot of fun with the back-stabby pirates!

AlexFalTalon, As annoying as Varys you say? Well brace yourself for this chapter is basically... only the Manywhispers :P This chapter is also sort of because of your point in regards to the pirates being forgettable. Some will be because there are as many as there are, but y'know at the very least some of them ought to be memorable. Also, I think it's fair to say Fret would prooooobably do things as badly as Klis.

Sebias: The hare speech was incredibly fun to write... because while it *is* pretty in depth it's also all sorts of stupid and ridiculous, courtesy of Angus and Andrew's rather... hyperbolic interpretation of the language. Sharpfur and Greyclaw have made up and yes, big dark prophecy of doom! Gotta keep the plot moving at *some* pace :P

Waycaster: As per your point on recognising names, this chapter was born! Because these pirates need to stick out quite a bit- they've hidden behind the curtains for too long!

Sebias again: So sorry but er- Scarface didn't get out of that in one piece :P Also, yeah he got duped on-screen a couple of (read a lot) of chapters ago. I don't blame you for forgetting mind, this story is stupid long and updates very slowly... details will go missing. Not a bad theory, we'll see how that goes though.

Enjoy!

"I'm sure you've heard that I've been made a captain now," said the Manywhiskers, fidgeting with the hat he'd inherited from Scarface. It had been small for the oafish stoat's massive head, but fit quite comfortably on the feline's. If he positioned himself in a shadowy corner, and bent his head in a certain way the flames of candlelight would gleam along his whiskers and the darkness around him would hide his face. The Manywhispers was quite proud of this effect.

"Word gets around," grunted Clawtail, who did not like having anybeast in his cabin. The gluttonous fox glowered down at the feline from atop a vast pile of pillows, his meaty fingers resting on the hilt of his scabbard. "The Bloody Gull ain't a bad ship."

"Some would say it's cursed. I have half a mind to give the captaincy to somebeast else and move on…"

Clawtail's piggy little eyes widened. The fox leaned in, suddenly very interested in whatever the wildcat had to say. "Are ye offerin'-"

"But I don't think there's anybeast more qualified than me at the moment," sighed Manywhiskers. "No, I can't trust anybeast else with the life of my crew. It'll have to be me in charge. But that's not what I came here to discuss with you."

"Out with it then," spat the fat fox. "I haven't got all day! Lots of things te do ye know, bein' a captain ain't as easy as ye might thi-"

"The snacks can wait Clawtail. Yes I know about your snacks. Don't worry, I'm not interested in them. I know for a fact that you put far too little salt in your pickled herring. It has definitely gone bad by now."

Clawtail scowled. His tail swung from side to side, the nominative claws upon it clacking against each other in what might have been a threatening manner. It wasn't very threatening of course, because the Manywhiskers was not easily threatened.

"We are going to hit land soon, and storm-wrecked as we are, it is advisable for us to stop and resupply."

"I know all that!" snapped the fox, adjusting his pillows and pouting. "I know how I'm supposed te be Captainin'!"

"And you knew that I happened to possess a map of this very island? A map that would have led me to great and wonderful riches? Oh how wise and well-informed you are Clawtail! No doubt you also know that that treacherous mink, Toothclaw, has stolen it from me and now pretends to have never heard of any map!"

"Ha! I'll bet he did that! Never liked that fish-fingered ole bas-"

"Please do not use such unsophisticated language in my presence. I understand that you are trying to convey Toothclaw's evil in an a simple manner but surely you understand that he was born within wedlock?"

Clawtail blinked once, frowned and grumbled something about Toothclaw being part-otter.

"No actually, his mother and father were both minks. But we are getting sidetracked here Clawtail! Toothclaw's parentage is of no avail to us. I came to you because, of all the captains here, you are the only one I trust. I do not need much of the treasure myself- a mere five percent will do- but I have been wronged and demand justice!"

"Aye," nodded Clawtail, wondering what he would do with the remaining eighty-eight percent of the treasure. In his mind's eye he imagined the blades on his tail to be made of solid gold. "Aye that, yes. Aye."

"When we reach this island Toothclaw will follow the map in search of the treasure. All you have to do is follow him."

"Ha-har! An' when he finds it I takes it from him!"

The Manywhispers smiled his smile, stepped into a shadowy corner and began to twirl a whisker. "I knew I could trust you."

"Well," said Toothclaw, rather modestly. "Course ye can trust me. 'S'far as I'm concerned there ain't a more honest creature aboard. What can I do for ye my whiskery friend? If this is about them supplies Clogg wanted ye can tell him I've already started the countin'," he gestured at the claw-marks he had carved into his claw-mark-riddled desk, which read 'two minus three equal one'. "Numbers are given' me a headache though."

"They do have that effect on beasts, don't they? Numbers that is. Yes, yes numbers can be quite a confusing thing. Say, is that a barracuda behind you by any chance?"

Toothclaw whirled around in his cabin chair (the skull of an eel) to face one of the skeletons hanging from his cabin walls. "Pike actually," replied the mink. "Killed 'er with me bare claws. Nearly took me down with her o' course but, well, I've been fightin' sea monsters since I was smaller than ye."

"Most interesting." The Manywhispers reached out with a claw of his own and changed the scratched-in sum into a four. Toothclaw's headache with numbers had not yet ended. "Yes I always thought you were a very fine fisherbeast."

The mink turned back towards the Manywhiskers with a shrug that did nothing to hide the pride rushing to his face. "Oh you know how it is, simple enough. Just gotta have a knack for it, gotta be quick-" he snatched at an imaginary shark and wrestled it to the ground. "Knock it's teeth out real quick an' that's all there is to it really."

"Indeed."

"Sometimes they'll try an' rip yer arms off- well, they do that all th' time but sometimes they almost manage an' that's when ye've got te be careful-"

"Please do not take offence, but I did not come here to discuss fishing."

"Right. Course not," the mink sagged with disappointment.

"No, this is about something far more important," the miniature wildcat threw a furtive glance around himself and Toothclaw felt compelled to do the same. Once they had both ascertained that the coast was clear, the Manywhiskers withdrew a curled up piece of parchment from the folds of his sleeves. "A map."

"A map?"

"That's what I said. Yes, it is a map. The only map like this that exists in the world."

"R-really?"

"Yes. And it leads directly to treasure. The most wondrous things. Jewels, gold, gems…" Toothclaw did not seem at all impressed. "All buried within the heart of a kraken!"

"The h-heart of a kraken?" The mink leapt to his feetpaws with an excitable squeal, nearly knocking over the oversized tusk of a narwhal as he did so. "I-I've always wanted te see one of 'em!"

"You might just get your wish," the Manywhiskers grinned. "When we land, have most of your crew resupply the ship, and lead a small expedition to find the treasure. But make sure you aren't followed."

"Of course," gasped Toothclaw, staring at the map as if it were made of solid gold. Or rather, the inside of some sea monster.

"And remember. Nobeast must know."

"Nobeast must know… what?" Sharkbreath, ever the grumpy ferret, had his eyes narrowed under his three-cornered hat.

"That I am about to give you the only copy of a map that is supposed to lead one to fame and fortune."

Sharkbreath's signature scowl weakened slightly. The ferret forced himself to remain frosty, but it was as if he'd been electrocuted. Now that the thought of treasure had been planted in his keen, intelligent mind he could not help imagining himself in a nice pair of earrings. He had always wanted earrings. It was with great mental fortitude that Sharkbreath banished this image from his mind and forced himself to remain glowering. The Manywhispers was not a beast to be so easily trusted… "An' what do ye expect in return?"

"I'll settle for…. eighty percent of the treasure you uncover."

Most pirates were not good at numbers, and Ripple Sharkbreath was no exception. He had, however, devised a method that made him better than most. Pirates were always counting things (it was imaginary numbers that confused them) and so by counting his claws Sharkbreath could do complicated mathematics beyond that of an ordinary pirate. Thus he soon realized he was being cheated and began to snarl.

"Ye want me te find it, undig it an' then give ye eight-tens of it!? Never! Yer gonna hafta offer better terms than that!"

The Manywhiskers frowned, pretending to be upset. "I'm sure we can work something out…"

A short while later, the Manywhiskers left the cabin and Ripple Sharkbreath sat at his desk, glowering at the map he had just bought for fifty percent of the loot. "Make me rich," he muttered, "A-an' give me my diamond earrings…"

"I'll get that Toothclaw," Clawtail chuckled to himself, opening up a barrel of his secret stash of pickled herring. "I'll get Toothclaw, an' the treasure. An' then I'll get the rest of them too…" he bit into a particularly large herring and gagged- it had gone bad.

"The heart of a kraken…" whistled Toothclaw, gazing around at his collection of fishbones and dolphin-guts in awe.

"Now I haven't been your captain for very long, so I thought it was necessary to have this meeting to discuss any questions you might have about the way things are supposed to be done around here. As you can probably tell I am very different from Scarface and intend to do things a bit differently."

The crew of the Bloody Gull blinked as one, and the Manywhiskers realized that he would have to use less flowery language in the company of illiterate creatures. "Does anybeast have… any questions?"

Dungear and Mudfoot, still wearing an overly-floppy hat between them, raised their paws. "Do we stills have ter keelhauls Splitfang?"

The Manywhiskers stroked a whisker. "It would be rather poetic, wouldn't it? If the first thing I do as Captain is undo the last thing Scarface did… Yes… yes I think you can let Splitfang up now. He's had enough torture just thinking about being run across the barnacles. You see, dreading something can often be worse than experiencing it."

When the crew blinked blankly once more, the Manywhiskers shook his head. "Pull him onto the deck."

"Now that we are all present," the Manywhiskers went on once a grateful Splitfang had been pulled free of his bonds and seated amongst the crew. "I have something very important to discuss with you all-"

"Whereth Thkarfathe?" piped up the broken-looking fox, searching the deck for any sign of the fearsome stoat.

"He's dead," Dungear said with a shrug.

"The Manywhispers is our captain now," Mudfoot explained.

"Oh," said Splitfang, looking confused (or maybe that was just his squint). "Well carry on then… Captain…"

"As I was saying," the Manywhiskers cleared his throat for dramatic effect. "We are sailing towards an island full to the brim with-"

"Hang on! Ithn't I thuppothed t'be Captain now? I wath the firtht mate for lotth of time!"

"Oh, truly? Well in that case I had better relinquish my captaincy," the Manywhispers purred. "I'm sure the crew here would love to have you leading them."

Splitfang stood up, oblivious to the sarcasm and made his way towards where the Manywhiskers stood. "Well that maketh me hap-"

"I'd rather keelhauls 'im!" came a voice from the back.

"Aye!" chorused most of the crew.

Splitfang went pale and stopped in his tracks, by then however it was too late to back down for the Manywhispers stood before him and was offering Scarface's old hat.

"Go on Captain Splitfang- the Bloody Gull is yours."

The deformed fox swallowed audibly, and watched from the corner of his eye as most of the crew drew their paws along their throats.

"That is, if you can handle the pressure- the, ah, burden of Captaincy."

"I-I-I thinkth I'll thit thith one down," he stammered, seating himself between Dungear and Mudfoot with his tail between his legs.

"Then you had better start addressing me as Captain," the Manywhiskers said briskly. "Now then, as I was saying. I have found a treasure map!"

"Th' lost treasure of Captain… Blade?" Poisonblade narrowed her eyes. "Do I look daft te yew, cat?"

"Not at all," said the Manywhiskers brightly. In truth he thought she looked ridiculous. The she-rat had tried, it seemed, to remove all colour from her form. Her face and muzzle were powdered white, her natural fur a silky black. Even her cabin was dark, illuminated by a single, short candle. "No I think you are a very capable creature Poison. Which is, in fact, why I come to you. I feel nobeast else would get the job done as well as a beast of your caliber."

"Save yer breathe feline. Yer words ain't gonna fool me. Never was a Captain that went by Blade, ever. Did Clogg put ye up te this?"

"You know I don't do everything he tells me to."

"An' I also know ye did 'im a big favour by killin' Scarface the other day. Don't think ye can fool me Whiskers. Ye've been watchin' his back fer seasons now an' he doesn't even have te pay ye for it. Maybe ye think yer special but at the end o' the day, yer just another one o' his lackeys."

The Manywhispers pursed his lips. "I'm actually quite offended that you think Clogg can put me up to anything." He sighed dramatically. "I had hoped it would not come to this but… oh well, I'm sure Clogg can handle treasure as well as you can." The feline turned away, fully aware that Poisonblade was grinding her teeth. "Better even I daresay."

"Now hang on! W-what's this about treasure?" Poisonblade demanded.

"The Lost Treasure of Captain Blade? I thought you didn't believe in that old myth about a pirate ferret and his knock-off mountain fortress complete with sulphu-"

"Alright!" the rat narrowed her eyes and crossed her paws over her chest. "I'll hear ye out… But nothin' more!"

"I don't need any more," the Manywhispers whispered to himself. He spun on his heel to face her, a massive grin on his face. "You'll be happy to know that there is only one copy of this map in the whole world. When I give it to you it shall be yours and yours alone."

"As it should be," Poisonblade muttered darkly.

"All I need is a mere fifty percent of your newfound loot."

"Humph," the she-rat harrumphed. "Fair…" Despite her skepticism Poisonblade accepted the treasure map when the Manywhiskers offered it to her. As soon as he left the cabin, she unfurled it to find a message.

'Unfortunately the real map has been stolen- you'll have to find it yourself if you're truly interested!

PS, Clogg will be glad to know that you think he can put me up to things. It's a very flattering thought, even though we both know that it's not true.'

Poisonblade bit back a growl and tore the page clean in half. "Thrak! Thrak!"

At once the narrow muzzle of an impossibly tall, dark and thin rat entered her cabin, followed close behind by his impossibly long tail. Her right paw beast, an imposing, if not particularly muscular creature to intimidate those she didn't want to poison.

"How may I be of service, Captain?" Thrak bowed low, his arms folded behind his back.

"I need ye te shake down anybeast carrying a map."

"A map?" One-Eye's one eye narrowed, but interest was painted clear on his face. The young wildcat licked his lips and pawed the hilt of his cutlass in anticipation. "Where can I find this map?"

"Why," said the Manywhispers, twirling a whisker. "I haven't got a clue! Somebeast has it, somebeast told me they saw it, but I have no idea who's got it and I feel… if anybeast has the sense… the ability to get their paws on it… why, it would be you, wouldn't it? The most ruthless pirate to ever sail."

"I am very ruthless," One-Eye agreed, feeling the usual vermin need to seem smart when discussing things with somebeast who spoke eloquently. "Yes, you came to the right place." The young wildcat leapt to his feetpaw, withdrew his black and red scimitar and brought it crashing into his desk, a milimetre away from the tip of the Manywhisper's whisker. "I'll get my paws on that treasure even if I have te kill every last beast aboard this Hellgates damned fleet!"

"Naturally. And no doubt you intend to do this in broad daylight, surrounded by witnesses?"

"Yes."

"And you think you can single-pawedly go through every able-bodied beast on this fleet?"

"Yes."

"Have you no sense of cunning? Of subtlety? You fool." The MW did not flinch even as the scimitar was pulled free of the desk and leveled at his throat. "You'd be killed before you ran anybeast through. You must use your wits here. In your rampage you might cut down the very beast holding the map, and in the process cut off a corner. Who knows, you might even end up with a fake map- I hear that there are fakes being made even as we speak!"

"Hmmmm… subtle…" the scimitar was lowered and One-Eye's scarred face contorted in concentration. "I can be subtle… I can… kill everybeast… while they sleep!"

"But then you'll have nightmares! And you'll miss out on sleep- and do you know what happens when you miss out on sleep? Your eyeballs begin to bulge and pop out and-" the Manywhiskers shuddered dramatically. "The rest is best left unsaid. No, sleep is very important my fellow feline."

One-Eye shrugged. "I already sleep lightly."

"And you're already half-blind."

"...I am."

"You best hold onto that other eye then. You'll need it to read this map when you get your paws on it." Doubt flashed across the larger feline's face for a split second but the Manywhiskers saw it and smiled. "That is… assuming you know how to read a map."

"I do."

The Manywhiskers gave him a patronising look.

"I don't."

"Admitting to our faults is the first sign of progress. Now, I think we can rule out any of your killing schemes. You'll need whoever has the map to read it for you, won't you?"

Grudgingly, One-Eye sheathed his blade. "Yes."

"Especially since the map is hidden in a riddle."

"One-Eye, eh? Never liked him," said the Dreaded, twisting a beaded whisker. "An' yer sayin' he stole yer treasure map, eh?"

"Yes," choked the Manywhispers- both because it was hard to breathe in the the greatrat's cabin and as part of his schemes.

"An' ye thinks only I've gots the cunning te go and steals it from him, eh?"

"Of course."

"Well ye be right there!" the Dreaded smacked the arm of his chair and let out a hearty guffaw. "I've got more wits than that lilly-liver pussy cat can dream of!"

"Oh thank you! Thank you so much!" the Manywhiskers grinned, eager to leave. "I am eternally indebted to-"

The Dreaded held up a paw as a smirk spread across his muzzle. "Now hang on pussy-cat, we ain't finished decidin' what ye'll give me in return for this favour. Can't get somethin' fer nothin' ye know?"

"Oh, oh yes, of course. N-naturally. Well, if you retrieve the map I could give you half of whatever treasure it leads me to… but if you were to find the treasure yourself I would settle for a mere quarter of it!"

"Ha!" cried the Dreaded, rubbing his paws with glee. "Make it two quarters an' ye've got yerself a deal!"

The Manywhiskers bowed. "It is done," the wildcat spun on his heel and made to exit- but was halted in his tracks by a massive paw clamping down on his shoulder.

"Bloodface ye swine! Bring up some grog for me matey the Manywhiskers 'ere!"

Several tankards of the worst-smelling seaweed grog in the world, the wildcat made good his departure, muttering under his breath of foul things to come. Naturally he hadn't drunk any of the grog (he was rather good at pretending to- though regretted that no potted plants could share a cabin with the stinking greatrat and live, for potted plants were an excellent place to pour unwanted beverages) but the time wasted listening to the Dreaded would never be returned to him.

"How do you put up with him?" he asked of Bloodface, the Beaded Death's first mate.

The weasel tapped the tip of his snout conspiratorially. "Perfect for the job. Never been able te smell a thing- an' good thin' too, I heard Cap'n got rid of everybeast whatever told him he stunk."

When nobeast was looking, Choptail helped himself to a second small portion of preserved tuna. It was disgusting and slimy and all sorts of decaying, but the small, fat ferret had had second helpings for most of his life and he was not about to give up now. His paunch had even saved his life once, when he had been forced to leap from a tower window lest he face the wrath of a furious wolverine king.

Life at sea was not much better than life at Chillgrave. Back in the castle at least he had had his slaves to bully and pick on and make himself feel important. They had cowered and shuddered and hidden away from him and this small measure of power had balanced out the never-ending fear of working for Longclaw. But aboard the Black Plague he was nobeast's superior and feared everybody.

'Oi stowaway!' the leering pirates would say. 'Fetch me a tankard 'a grog or else I'll see t'it yer made inter a deck swab, savvy?'

'Deeeeeckswab! It looks like ye missed a spot- shall I be gettin' his majesty the Prince?'

'Deckswab! Yar biskit almost broke me teeth!'

Deckswab. They expected him to answer to 'Deckswab' as if he were nothing more than a scrap of cloth.

Suppressing tears, Choptail gave himself a third piece of tuna. He was not fit for the sailor's life. He belonged in a kitchen where he could tell all his slaves to cook meals the way they were supposed to be cooked.

"Funny name Choptail- considering your tail is still entirely in one piece that is."

The ferret nearly choked on his tuna and whirled about to face the Manywhispers. The wildcat shook his head.

"You must be very careful when snacking aboard a ship Chopatil. They do sometimes eat the fatter crewbeasts you know- when rations run out that is."

The cook swallowed heavily and nodded in understanding.

"And if anybeast knew you were taking a little extra for yourself…"

"Please don't tell them." Choptail was on his knees, his paws clasped together as if in prayer. "Please- they'll kill me they will. You know they'll kill me. Please-"

"Oh hush Choptail. If I wanted you dead you would already be dead. No… what I want from you is a favour. Which you will of course do for me now that I've done you the favour of not telling everybeast why it is you're so fat."

"O-of course," Choptail's voice shook from fear. He was hesitant, but desperate. "A-anything."

The Manywhispers smirked. "I have in my possession a map. A legendary map that leads to none other than-" the wildcat paused for dramatic effect. "The lost treasure of Captain Blade."

"Wh-who?"

"Some Pirate King, not important at all. What matters is that we get our paws on his booty."

Choptail swallowed. "R-right."

"Here is where you come in, my fine, flabby friend." The Manywhispers withdrew the map from a hidden pocket in his sleeve. "Somehow rumours have spread across the ships. The other captains, other crews, they all know of my map and the fortune it leads to. But they do not know who has it."

Choptail swallowed again, beginning to connect the dots. He was quaking terribly and beginning to sweat, not that the Manywhispers seemed to care. The wildcat placed an arm around the head cook's shoulders.

"They will search me, my cabin, my first mate- but they won't search you 'Deckswab'. They think you're too stupid to get your paws on a map, but that's not true now is it?" Smirking, the Manywhiskers placed the rolled-up piece of parchment into Choptail's shaking paw. "You're smart enough to know that, should somebeast else get the map something truly terrible will happen to you. Something horrible and horrendous that will make you wish you were still being used to swab decks."

Choptail swallowed a third time, and struggled to stifle a whimper.

Choptail was not the only former slavemaster who was finding it hard to adjust to life at sea. Since his arrival Browneye had been shouted at by his captain, lied to by his subordinates and forced to weather a storm up in the crow's nest. He didn't even have his whip with him. He too missed his slaves. Not because he cared for them (much) or liked them (at all) but because he only felt truly happy when he was bossing somebeast around. He had had his favourites over the seasons, and a part of him even went as far as to consider them family. Not that the slaves would agree of course.

Unfortunately there were no slaves aboard the Plague, and the other ships already had masters for them.

So with no brownish-yellow mice to pummel into submission Browneye spent his days glowering at anybeast who did not respect his authority.

"You will make a lot of enemies if you keep glaring like that. Try and smile a little."

"Humph," Browneye turned towards the beast addressing him. "I've already made quite a few enemies."

"Yes, the crow's nest joke wasn't very nice," the Manywhispers conceded. "But no harm done, right?"

"Lots of harm done," Browneye snarled, watching as Darkhide, Fleaback and Scringewhiskers all threw their heads back and laughed. "They've undermined me, made me look weak." He balled his paws into fists. "An' I don't forget things like that easy."

"Revenge?"

"Aye," said Browneye simply. "That."

The Manywhiskers 'hmmmed'. "If you got rid of Darkhide," he whispered. "It would be doing everybeast a favour. But try and be subtle about it. We wouldn't want your pelt hanging besides her's now would we?"

"No. We wouldn't." The stoat turned his gaze towards the miniature wildcat and smiled for the first time in days. "Yer the Manywhispers, eh? Heard quite a bit about ye." He offered a paw.

The feline accepted and they shook paws. "Of course you have- and you know that I am very good at keeping secrets for my dear friends." He leaned in and winked, before adding in a whisper. "Choptail has a treasure map."

"Choptail?" Browneye repeated out loud, before following in the Manywhisker's lead and lowering his voice. "An' what's this got te do with me?"

"Nothing much… just that it would be very good for us if that map ended up in Clogg's paws."

"I don't think he's weak and I do trust him. Clogg has his heart in the right, piratey place but he just doesn't understand some things. If that map gets into his paws we'd be doomed and the lost treasure of Captain Cierra Ancorra would stay rotting away on Turtle Island."

"An' we don't want that," Darkhide, who thought Clogg was weak and didn't trust him, agreed. She was wary of the Manywhispers of course, he was a dangerous beast to trifle with but an excellent ally to have. And if her mutinous schemes were to succeed she would need far better then the likes of Fleaback and Scringewhiskers alone. "So what do we have te do? Sneak it outta Clogg's cabin?"

"Oh no, the map isn't in Clogg's cabin." The Manywhispers twirled a whisker and leaned in conspiratorially. "Marik's brat has it- Whimper!"

Footnote: If you've caught the MOIII references not-so-subtlely sprinkled here you get a brownie from me. Only one because the delivery was rather ham-fisted. Of course the Manywhispers is more than capable of making these references because he is almost entirely all-knowing.

So yeah, there are a lot of pirates, this chapter serves as a roll-call to the ones that havent been introduced before (because you should reasonably all know who Bork, Klis, Clogg and Swallowtail are). I'm just going to briefly summarize them here so that you can use this chapter as a sort of reference point in the future.

Clawtail, fat fox with metalic claws on tail

Toothclaw, mink with fish fetish

Ripple Sharkbreath, grumpy ferret pirate

Mudfoot, peg-legged and stupid weasel

Dungear, the other stupid weasel, but with an ear problem

Splitfang, deformed butt monkey fox

Poisonblade, gothic poison-dealing rat captain

Thrak, tall, dark and sinister lackey rat

One-Eye, extra bloodthirsty wildcat pirate

The Dreaded, extra stinky greatrat with dreads

Bloodface, the aforementioned greatrat's long-suffering weasel first mate. Who has no sense of smell.

Choptail, fat little ferret cook

Browneye, former stoat slavemaster 'promoted' to first mate for no reason

Darkhide, Scringewhiskers, Fleaback, the sort-of anti-Clogg conspiracy

And now that the scene has been set... let the mayhem begin!