A shadow falls over the courtyard. At first it's as if the sun has been eclipsed, but then it is apparent that a gigantic barrel soars down from above and crashes into pieces on the dirt path to the central gate, turning the yellow soil into a morrass of mud and a foamy green liquid that stinks of alcohol.
A figure plummets like a comet into the foamy sea of grog and comes squelching out to greet the new arrival.
It is a penguin dressed in a preposterous pirate costume, complete with tattered seaman's jacket, floppy wide-brimmed hat and enormous purple feather plume, rose-lensed goggles, and a wooden toy sword painted gold.
"Yarr! I be Cap'n Penguin! Welcome teh' our little citadel!" he says, handing Naymu a frosty mug of foamy, bubbly, salty, green grog.
"What, may I arske', be a 'tri-hawk'?"