Not throwing away my shot [Pack claim!]

Man, this was getting good. Artisan winced, turning his head away from the brawl as soon as the hidden dagger came out, glancing away to his side with squinting pained eyes and - wait. He blinked, bewildered for a moment, staring blankly across the spectators. "Bitch shanked me!." The voice might as well been a million miles away for how much Artisan paid attention to it. Right there, flopped down between the two sides was who Artisan had not-affectionately begun referring to as his arch-nemesis. The thieving raccoon who had ruined his introduction to Boreas and the best party he'd ever seen.

He got to his paws suddenly, thrusting the bottle of rum into Pyralis' awaiting paws. "Hold my rum." He told her firmly, lifting a paw and stabbing it into Hya's shoulder to grab his attention off the battle. "That's him." The man's eyes were locked firm upon the unsuspecting critter and the familiar accomplice bird that fluttered above him. Did he need to say more? Probably not - his siblings had heard of Artisan's obsession with Armando from the day he'd met the bastard, and surely he'd told the tale around the campfire to his new band-mates once or twice two, right?

Artisan did not wait to see whether his pirate brethren would take notice of his lust for vengeance, nor if his brother would agree that slapping some respect into the thief was way more important then Sparrow's approaching takeover was, he merely squeezed out from the pack of Sparrow-aligned-spectators and out towards no-mans-land neutral ones. There were some other scary fuckers there too, but Artisan only had eyes for Armando. "Temporary truce over!" He declared as he neared, before lowering his head and beginning a full-out critter flattening sprint towards the red panda.

"Speech"