Malachi,
You, Mr. Thrice-born, Mr. Arfaliunium, and the seaman Jean Orleau return to the ship. Mr. Lang, keeping an anchor watch on deck, surveys you incredulously.
"What's this?" he says, in a sharp voice. His baleful gaze wanders over the boatswain, the Ship's Mage, and the able-seaman, before settling on the most senior officer in the group - you.
"Mr. Legba," he snaps, a note of anger readily apparently in his voice. "Mr. Legba, what is the meaning of this? Have you and this sorry lot been brawling like a bunch of...of common ruffians?"
Vemuz,
Upon reaching the ship, Mr. Lang's angry face greets you and the rest.
"What is meaning of this?" he snaps at Malachi, surveying you, Nicodemus, and the seaman Orleau with a baleful glare.
Nicodemus,
Upon reaching the ship, you are accosted by an angry Mr. Lang.
"What is meaning of this, Mr. Legba?" he snaps. "Have you sory lot been brawling?"
Orleau's mates, meanwhile, carry him down to his bunk.
Malthas,
The "cozy little place" that the bar maid had in mind doesn't appear to be a set-up. It is a fairly typical boardinghouse, somewhat plain, and more or less clean. A few sleepy sailors are apparent, lounging on chairs and benches around a fireplace.
The landlady, robust, red-faced woman, appears in a moment, carrying a broom.
"You'll be wantin' a room, I suppose?" she asks briskly, peering down at the two of you.
"I've heard," the barmaid says softly, her lips close to your ear. "That the beds here are the softest this side of the Sunset Sea..."
Antheos & Jonah,
For what seems like hours, the keg-raft pushes on through the fog. It is still, almost unnaturally so, inside the thick white mist; sound carries and echoes strangely. The soft splashing of the boatmen's quants are the only accompaniment to the silence.
"It's gettin' a bit dark," Captain McCrenshaw comments. "We might have t' spend a night in thet forest over there."
(OOC: Listen & Spot checks, please.)
