The silence that follows Bruff's words is broken by the sound of trickling water. Girth is standing by the bulwark , facing the ocean, and the sound comes from him. He breathes a sigh of contentment then turns around holding the bag of dust he obtained from Thorendin, now thoroughly wet.
Tipping the soggy mess into his hands he walks over to where he had been scratching his signs into the decking and starts rubbing the wet dust into the etched lines.
"Between the nodes and the lower octave...the malefic is in opposition... Good...Good...blood, that's what is needed...Yes!"
Girth stands and wipes his grubby hands down his tunic and looks around him, staring in turn at each of the companions. Seemingly coming to a decision he walks over to where they are standing.
"I need blood. Fresh blood. Blood from one of us by an enemy spilled. Then I can my task continue. Will you me aid? This for our benefits is."