Malthas,
Heart---- frowns.
"Some danger, possibly. Depend who it is found your Kep-tan. Not all of my Brethren are as merciful as I. Keep weapons out of sight, or there will be bloodshed; I must not look like captive, or they will try to rescue me."
Malachi,
The Grugach shrugs.
"Safe now," he says. "Kep-tan talk to Mind-of-the-Mighty-River."
You can hear little beyond the rustling of brush and the ordinary noises of the river.
Nicodemus,
You can hear a faint noise of shouting drifting over the river. It is clearly the captain's voice.
"...had enough of this Calypso-be-damned nonsense! Bloody river, bloody mud, bloody forest, bloody stuck up savages wi' pointy ears! I'm not a bleeding fool, if they want t' show me off to their chief like some damned-to-Davy-Jone's-Locker turkey for the slaughter, I sure as Davy Jone's Locker won't go bleeding quietly! ....wants a fight, he'll get one, by Calypso...tell him, Jonah, tell him we a'en't goin' t' give him our weapons, an' we sure as Oceanus' arse a'en't goin' t' be tied up like that many sides o' mutton..."
Jonah,
The captain stares at the elves for a long moment. Suddenly, he slaps at a mosquito on his arm, and, as though this is the last straw, leaps up with a roar.
He hurls his hat to the ground in front of Mind---- with an air of challenge, rips off his coat, and rolls up his sleeves, fury apparent in every motion. Despite his age, the strength of his arms is readily apparent as he curls his knotty, muscular hands into fists and brandishes said fists wildly as he pours out a torrent of abuse at the forest, the elves, the river, the elves, and the elves.
"Submit t' bein' bound? Submit t' being
bound? The hell we will! I've had enough of this Calypso-be-damned nonsense! Bloody river! Bloody mud! Bloody forest! Bloody stuck up savages wi' pointy ears! I'm not a bleedin' fool, if they want t' show me off t' their chief like some damned-to-Davy-Jone's-Locker turkey for the slaughter, I sure as Davy Jone's Locker won't go bleeding quietly! Well, I'll say this, if this...this...prancing pointy-eared mother's boy wants a fight, he'll get one, by Calypso...tell him, Jonah, tell him we a'en't goin' t' give him our weapons, an' we sure as Oceanus' arse a'en't goin' t' be tied up like that many sides o' mutton. You tell him we a'en't nothin' t' do with them Standishtowners, an' I'm sorry we killed some o' their kind - or I was, until this son of a b
opened his Calypso-be-damned mouth!..."
Indeed, he looks ready for a fight; eyes flashing and fists waving, he continues to call down every curse known to a sailor's vocabulary (and then some) upon anything that has anything remotely to do with Grugach.
The elves, upon seeing the captain leap up, reach for their weapons, except for Mind-of-the-Mighty-River, and now they face Captain McCrenshaw with bent bows. This only incites the captain to further heights of fury. He seems only vaguely aware of his surroundings as he gives vent to two days worth of frustrations - the hunger, the thirst, the lack of sleep, and of course, being hunted like foxes through incredibly inhospitable terrain.
"Weapons, is it?" he cries, upon seeing the Grugach leap up with bent bows. "Not elf enough to face me barehanded, eh? Takes six armed pointy-ears t' do away wi' one old man, eh? Have at ye! I'll give you, an' you, an' you - I'll give all o' you a taste o' blood an' vinegar, arrows or no!" He says, waving his fists in the faces of all the elves in turn.
Over the captain's continued shouting, however, you catch a noise infinitely more hope-inspiring that the captain's continued provocation of the murderous looking elves; you hear the splash of oars, and the distinctive voice of a halfling shouting an off-color joke about the habits of Standishtown serving-women. You recognize the voice as Mr. Swifthand, the halfling quartermaster of the CALYPSO'S GRACE. It would seem he is just around the bend in the river.
Now if only you can keep yourself and the captain alive until then...
oh well 13 +5 = 18)
