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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Bob Aberton" data-source="post: 1156171" data-attributes="member: 1518">Vemuz,As the longboat speeds downriver with your hand on the tiller, you think back to the chieftain's reply to your parting words;"Truly," he says, with great respect evident in his words.  "Truly, you are my Brethren in spirit if not in body."  He places the feather in his headdress, the plume curving high above his forehead.  "This is rare plume; a fitting adornment for one such as you.  You are rare man, Swordfisher.  Had I a hundred like you the clamdiggers would curse these shores for a thousand generations.  I place your gift above all my other feathers; always will this feather go before me and guide me in battle.  And for your generosity, I give you something of my own."He removed a fine rich wolfskin from his shoulders, and draped it over yours."This is pelt of a Great-wolf, direct descendent of the First Wolves, first children of He-Who-Wrought-The-Mountains.  It has ornamented my shoulders since I was first made chief, it graced the shoulders of my father and his father before him.  May your arrows never miss and those of your enemies never hit."  Malachi,"Aye, Mr. Legba.  These Grugach won' strike their colors wi'out a hell of a fight,  couldn't ask fer better fighters, an' I hear they've got magics thet make all the Universities in the Middle Lands seem like a bunch o' berobed charlatans, an' they'll make th' Stan - the clamdiggers - curse their mothers for bearin' 'em, but it strikes me thet their battle was decided th' moment we round-ears set foot on these shores.  Us round-ears're like dry rot in th' floor timbers, sometimes, ruinin' whatever we touch...Never th' less, if the Lady wills, then they still have hope.  I know I'll be sayin' a prayer for them this night.If y' ask me, them ships what left half-empty were the smart ones.  I tell y', I'd give an arm an' a leg t' be on the old GRACE right now, outward bound from this hellhole.  I don't want t' be within a hundred miles o' Standishtown when the shootin' starts, though I can't say I'll spare many tears for them slave-tradin' cravens of clamdiggers."He settles down to smoke his pipe, but he is clearly impatient to be back to his ship, every few moments whipping out his spyglass and checking and rechecking Malthas' map of the river.Malthas,The captain, who had been fidgeting impatiently with his pipe and peering ahead at the river constantly, brightens up at the mention of the rum."Don't want t' set a bad example," he says.  "But these sort of misadventures make a man thirsty.  Permission granted t' splice th' main brace, Mr. Swifthand; let's have a tot o' rum all 'round.  In lieu of a proper celebration on shore, o' course.  But let's have no brawlin' this time, eh?"The hands, naturally, recieve this message with raucous cheers.Nicodemus,Sitting in the longboat skimming downriver, you think back to your own speech to the Grugach, and its reception.The Grugach had been a most receptive audience, and they had given a hearty cheer in your honor when you finished your speech.  Indeed, when they bid you their own farewell, they said to you;"What you lack in stature, O noble Mage, you more than recoup in wisdom and judgement.  May your mind always be clear and may your tongue never falter."</blockquote>

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