the-watch-rp - Tumblr blog

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This week’s Fanart Friday comes from our very own co-writer @vero-valzer who drew this super cute picture of Captain Atticus yawning cause the idea of doing his paperwork makes him suddenly feel VERY tired. 

I think we all feel this way at work on Friday’s though… am I right?

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The blog is starting up a Fanart Friday! The art will include both submitted pieces and commissioned pieces. This awesome line drawing of Captain Atticus was commissioned from the talented @jozzgcblog

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Never raise your sword for a cause that you think is unworthy. Do what is right, not what is expected of you.

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Say hello to the captain!

A little eye candy for Halloween. More treats to come with a new page tonight!

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Trying something a little different.

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The Watch- “The Good Stuff”

Art-Jenjo

Written by- Emily Brigolin

PG01

Okay I absolutely HAVE to finish #2 of Seafoam before San Francisco Comic Con so here is a mini comic in the meantime. More pages of this new mini comic series to come, highlighting the peacekeepers of Port City and their fabulous feline captain~

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“Why madame,” He gasped, ear perking upward as he put a large clawed hand over his chest plate “You wound me.”

He grinned as his ears folded back, glistening pearly white canines that tweaked slightly to the left. It was soft on his chiseled jaw. A smile that won the hearts of many women instantly.

“It is mere coincidence,” he began, still smiling, “that I happened to hear on my way to deliver this rose that your lovely ears have heard some not so lovely gossip.”

Atticus leaned on the counter, his claw-like nails lightly scratching at the counter’s top as he let his emerald eyes softly gaze into Eve’s. She blushed furiously and he couldn’t help but think how utterly adorable it was. His grin faded slowly to a gentle smile that glowed on his bronzed skin.

“Should I have also brought chocolates?” He chimed when she did not reply.

"Just wanted to stop by and give a rose to the loveliest elf in Port City~" - Captain Atticus

Eve blushed, the pink reaching far enough to dust the tops of her ears. She was speechless for a solid moment as she took the rose gingerly from the Captain’s paws. It was a lovely bloom, practically still glistening with dew, fragrant and soft but a deep passionate red that almost rivaled the fiery shade of Atticus’ braid.

‘Where did he even find a rose so beautiful?’ she wondered as she sniffed at the delicate blossom. ‘He does realize what a rose usually symbolizes… Right?’ That brought the pink back to her face.“Thank you…” she murmured, eyes mired in the petals soft as velvet. “Now… what do you want?” she asked with a flat stare that tried to hide how actually flattered she was and how easily he made her heart flutter with such a simple, yet sweet, gesture. She couldn’t help the smile though below the inquiring eyebrow tilt. Around him, she wasn’t sure she ever would be able to help but smile.

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Atticus arrived with the king behind him, riding on a horse made of rock. The captain's feline eyes went wide at the sight of the tiny artist outside the barrier of the Rook cabin. Jen seemed flustered but not at all surprised by the arrival of the Captain and King.

"Which one of you called her!?" Atticus scolded between his teeth as he pointed. He tried to keep the same stern nature in his voice as he spoke to Jen. "Listen to Thaddeus and go home."

Housecall

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Even at top speed it still took Atticus a little over an hour to reach Cain’s castle by the sea. If the monarch didn’t insist on living on the other side of the mountain range it wouldn’t take nearly as much time to get to him. Of course sending a flame could have cut the time in half, having Cain come to him but... Atticus wasn’t sure what to put as the Rook’s address. That was the logic he used anyhow.

Atticus wasn’t surprised to find the front door to the castle closed and locked. Cain wasn’t one to be bothered unless he had to be and often only left the door open for a few hours in the afternoon to allow Mantians the opportunity to ask him questions. If someone was in dire need he’d come out of course, but often found trivial matters could just as easily be solved by the Captain of the watch.

“Dammit Cain, open the door,” Atticus grumbled as he threw a little more weight into pounding on the solid wood door. “The spell only lasts for a few hours!”

Housecall

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“What do you think, he’s the KING!?” Atticus exclaimed. “And yes, I carry out the king’s orders. It’s my job! And I don’t like people who beat on those weaker than them for fucking fun regardless of who they are!”

Desmond wasn’t listening to reason at all. This entire situation spiraled out of the control of the Captain who had just wanted answers. Instead of a peaceful resolution, Atticus received a cloud of thick, putrid, dark miasma. The mask he was wearing was pretty good at filtering smoke but he was certain something so concentrated wouldn’t be stopped.

“Dammit,” Atticus hissed as he turned tail to leap out the door, “you little shit!”

After a quick tuck and roll Atticus popped nimbly onto his feet. Mr. Rook was a wild card, but quite adept at making the most of his strange abilities. Not just anyone could send him running the other way. If the delinquent could focus his energy on something more positive he could actually make something of himself as a soldier.

Perhaps there was a way to do just that. He’d have to get Cain involved first since Desmond didn’t want to come with him.

“Since you refuse to adhere to the King’s direct orders I am forced to inform him that he is going to have to come down here himself,” He spoke loud and clear so Desmond could hear him from the house. “In the meantime-”

He withdrew a leather pouch from his belt and undid the lid. Atticus dashed around the house, spilling the blue powder as he went. Once he was done he lit a match and dropped it. The flame engulfed the powder, making a blue ring of fire around the Rook’s cabin. Desmond seemed distressed and upset by this when he noticed a blue sheen of energy encompass his place of residence.

“-you’re under house arrest.” The captain turned, offering a smile and wave. “Be right back~”

Housecall

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A harsh cat-like yowl was ready to burst from the Captain who was currently trapped of his own accord in a house filled with toxic smoke. What the crook who had his tail didn’t know was that catching this lion by the tail was no laughing matter. With a harsh swish the Captain lifted Desmond clean off his feet and flung him across the room. Atticus was quick to sheath his sword.

Luckily he’d brought something for the occasion…

After some fumbling, as the lack of air and exertion combined was becoming cumbersome, Atticus managed to unhook a demon hunting mouthpiece he’d confiscated a few months ago. The small mouthpiece covered the mouth and nose and filtered the air breathed in and out. It wouldn’t be enough to stop Desmond from entering his lungs should he try to suffocate him, but it would help him breathe at the very least.

“Oh… damn that’s better,” he coughed a little, pounding his broad chest to clear his lungs. “Okay Mr. Rook,” one more cough, “I know this seems like a game to you, but the matter is serious! Jen is a close friend of the King and I and neither of us want her in danger. You need a better outlet for your problems than going around trying to strangle defenseless young women.”

Desmond seemed unphased by the Captain’s comment as he began picking at his ears. Atticus stomped his foot, fed up with the smoke wielder’s overabundance of apathy toward the situation.

“Come down to headquarters with me NOW, or go later when the king gets here. I guarantee you I will be far more forgiving.” The captain’s emerald eyes sharpened, hoping Desmond would grasp the seriousness of the situation. “Do you know what a ‘hole is Mr. Rook? I’m sure you must have heard the rumors by now.”

Housecall

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The Captain's finely bridged nose crinkled at Desmond's words. Within his eyes he could see just how much he'd enjoyed attacking poor nearly defenseless Jen. Something was going to happen to this punk. Maybe a good ass beating would straighten him out.

"Oh?" Atticus exclaimed with his feline ears folding back, "so you're the one I ought to be dragging in then?" His lips pulled back enough for Mr. Rook to see his pearly white fangs. "And you will be coming with ME. You don't want the King coming down here son."

Atticus barged inside and grabbed a fistful of Desmond's shirt, which quickly became a fistful of smoke.

Housecall

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Atticus shifted his weight as Desmond went through the usual snarky chit chat. The comment about the house was indeed correct, but all the more convenient for the Captain since a house call was in order. His rolled back shoulders relaxed slightly as Thaddeus took Desmond’s place. It was always such a strange thing to watch one body shift between two completely different people. Their case was certainly a peculiar one.

Thaddeus was on edge, which led the Captain to believe something indeed was afoot. He stood up straight and appeared large even though the man he questioned was nearly more than a head taller than him.

“I’m here on royal business Mr. Rook,” he began, his voice steady and deep to add to the seriousness of the matter. “You’re being accused of assaulting an unarmed civilian who happens to be rather close friends with the king.”

He reached back and pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pouch, unfolded and handed it to Thaddeus. When Thaddeus didn’t move forward out of nerves, or fear he was going to be yanked outside Atticus added with a smirk,

“I can go in there and drag your bony butt outside at anytime Mr. Rook. I know you have... problems... so i’m trying to keep this civil until I hear your side of the story. Now, I know you know Jen. I’ve seen you around her here and there at Port. This is a written statement from his majesty attesting to some really nasty bruises on miss Jen’s neck and according to him, you’re the cause.”

Atticus jostled the paper and Thaddeus finally took hold of it.

“Jen is a very special girl,” he flashed his canines briefly, “so let’s go back to HQ peacefully and hear your side of the story.”

Housecall

Port city was a ramshackle town, the main hub of the Manta. It housed the islands best, its worst and everything in between. At the center of this city was an institution of justice that was home to the good old boys in blue, the protectors of the innocent and the best warriors on the side of good such a mixing pot like the Manta offered. Leading this fine group of individuals was Captain Atticus.

The Captain was brave, strong, possessed a healing ability that made him difficult if not impossible to best in battle and could mold any slob into a soldier. Now the captain wasn’t a perfect man, no… he had his faults. Paperwork productivity was one such downfall of the Manta’s fearless protector.

It sat in piles about him, the towers leaning off to one side, some of it spilt on the floor while other piles were purposely dumped. A few legal contracts, folded into the shape of paper airplanes remained stuck about the office on the lavish hand carved furniture. Atticus picked his teeth, having just finished a nice bowl of fish head soup. His long red lynx-like ears folded down as he barred his fangs to clean them. When a knock came at the door his large, three-fingered clawed hand lowered from his squared jaw.

Atticus leapt from his chair, accidentally knocking some papers from the desk as he hurried to answer what he hoped was a call to action. He was met with a messenger, stoic in appearance as he shoved a letter into his chest. Atticus raised a thick dark brow and examined the envelope, marked with Cain’s royal seal.

“What’s this about?” He asked the creature.

“You did not respond to the king’s letters… so he sent me to make sure you received this one.” When Atticus stood there with an expression that was expecting more the messenger sighed loudly and elaborated. “King Cain wants you to go to the castle.”

“Oh,” Atticus puffed out his chest and tossed the envelope over his shoulder on his way out, “why didn’t you just say so?”

000

Cain’s castle was a homey thing made of beach sand and rock. The drawbridge was down which meant he was indeed expecting a visitor. Atticus ran up to the door and knocked.

BARK! BARK! BARK!

After the initial warning the King’s prized Wolfhound Winchester came bounding around the corner. The size of a horse, the hound was really more of a puppy and built more like a wolf, but he was friendly and well trained by Cain. Atticus laughed heartily as he braced for impact just before the dog came careening into him. They tussled playfully for a minute or so before the large castle doors opened.

Cain stood with his arms folded and scrunched up high on his chest. Winchester gave Atticus a lick.

“Winchester,” Cain scolded with newspaper in hand, “what have I told you about tackling guests?”

“Oh he’s not hurting anyone,” Atticus chuckled as he ruffled the large hound’s dark fur, “big fella like this needs to rough house once in awhile.”

“Well you’re not here to rough house!” Cain scolded. “Come in at once. We need to talk.”

“What is the issue sire?” Atticus inquired as he followed the king into the throne room. “You rarely call me up here… has something dire happened?”

“I want this man arrested immediately.”

At that Cain tossed a newspaper at Atticus. The captain fumbled with the floppy parchment before gathering it properly in his hands. His ears dropped as a similar worry to a child being asked a question hey do not know in class seeped through him. His voice caught for a second before he recalled the day the photo was taken.

“Is this about the man known as Mr. Rook?”

“Yes,” Cain pointed at the paper, “I want him in your custody immediately.”

“Sire… a brawl on the Manta is a day’s worth in the brig at the most. He’s a trouble maker sure, but he’s also… well, you know he’s a crazy right?” Atticus emphasized this by swirling his finger around his temple. “Mr. Rook has a serious personality… thing… besides that his powers are very unique. It makes catching him difficult.”

“He attacked her,” Cain responded with the weight of a world on his shoulders.

“Her?” Atticus inquired with one ear drooping lower than the other. His tail settled on the floor behind him. “Sire I don’t-”

“HER,” Cain repeated. His dark brows flicked up afterward.

“He… no… how do you know?”

“I had to pry where she got the bruises around her neck from!” Cain exclaimed. “She was bloody fucking defending him! I want him locked up and away from her.”

“… I’ll speak with him.”

“You will lock him up and assure her safety or I will pay him a visit. Mentally ill or not he will not go around harming my friends.”

“No worries your majesty,” Atticus gave Cain a curt bow, “I’ll get to the bottom of this and make sure the lady is safe.”

“See that you do. Good day Captain.”

“Good day.”

000

He’d heard from Dasvan that Mr. Rook lived in an old cabin far out in the woods. She hadn’t been exaggerating exactly how far out it was at all. Why the cabin wasn’t far enough from where Jen’s tree house resided. Though he pondered how the hooligan survived out in the woods at night, the Captain supposed that as long as he kept the place locked up tight enough the ghouls wouldn’t be able to break in.

Adjusting his leather belt, adorned with throwing daggers and charms, the Captain approached the cabin. Atticus kept his ears perked as he made no real effort to keep the old porch from creaking under his heavy boots.

“Mr. Rook?” He called as he rapped on the screen door with the back of his knuckles. His keen ears perked upwards and listened. With the cabin being so old he could hear every small movement from within when the wood groaned and complained about it. “Mr. Rook I can hear you walking around in there. Either come to the door or we’re going to have a problem.”