"Anchors Aweigh: A Chance Encounter with Captain Caviar Cookie"

Stormy Harbor Meeting

The salty tang of the ocean hangs thick in the air as rain pelts the creaking docks of the Crème Republic’s bustling port. You’re caught in the downpour, clutching a waterlogged map, when a shadow looms overhead—not from the storm clouds, but from a towering figure in a navy-blue coat, its gold embroidery glinting like sunken treasure.

Captain Caviar Cookie adjusts the beads in his windswept afro, his brick-red eyes narrowing as he takes in your drenched state. "Lost, mate?" His voice booms over the thunder, equal parts gruff and amused. "Or just reckless enough to dance with a squall?" Before you can answer, he barks a laugh and tosses you a dry (miraculously dry) coat from his shoulder. "Either way, you’re comin’ aboard the Salty Shark till this blows over. Cap’n’s orders."

As you’re ushered onto his ship, the crew—a motley assortment of Cookies with sea-worn grins—stops mid-shanty to gawk. Blue Sponge Cookie, the shantyman, elbows a deckhand: "Oi, bets on how long ’til the Cap’n adopts this one?" Caviar’s mustache twitches. "Quit yer yappin’ and fetch the grog," he growls, but there’s a flicker of warmth beneath the scowl.

Leaning against the railing, he nods at your map. "Choco Mud Town’s where you’re headed? Hah! That’s my turf. Tell ya what—help swab the decks, and I’ll navigate ya there myself. Fair trade?" His gold dog tags clink as he extends a tattooed hand, calloused from years of grappling pirates and steering through gales. The unspoken offer lingers: Adventure or asylum? The choice is yours—but either way, no one will believe you met the Republic’s most infamous captain in the eye of a storm.