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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 1026143" data-attributes="member: 1210">The Return of Captain Clambake2/1/368 O.L.G.Captain Clambake, though not captain of the ship he's on, growls softly deep in his throat as the vessel heads through the medium-high waves into the harbor of the Shining City of Tirchond.  The Egg, he thinks with satisfaction.The Purple Whale's captain approaches him.  He's a grizzled veteran of the Forinthian navy, retired over a decade but still scarred from old battles.  "We're here," he says in his typical clipped tones, and Clambake nods."Arr, my thanks," the dwarf says, handing over a bag of coins.  The captain nods at him briefly, then stomps off to the foredeck, peering out at the elven vessels moored at the quay.  Soon enough he's barking orders at his crew to tie off and ready for inspection as the suspicious elves and dwarves of the Port Inspection Authority board and start examining the vessel's cargo.  Clambake doesn't bother to wait; he heads immediately into the city, seeking lodging, and soon he's got a meal of fish stew and vegetables in front of him, as well as a flask of rum.Some tastes, even acquired under the influence of a curse, never go away.  "Arr," he says to himself quietly in satisfaction as his belly grows full and warm.  Some mannerisms, even acquired under the influence of a curse, stay with one for life.A flight of stairs later and he throws his pack down in his room and doffs his coat and hat.  He's dry of the spray of the sea now, and he spends a few minutes passing his fingers through the tangles of his beard.  Definitely needs some work, he thinks briefly to himself, then falls to his knees to offer his devotions to his God Na'Rat, the Chaos-Bringer, for whom he has come to this far-flung isle.After his obsequies are done, Clambake flings himself heavily into the bed and soon sinks deep into a snoring sleep.  And dreams of old friends, companions long gone, events in the past...He dreams of the hat whose mark has never fully left him; he dreams of Horbin the Holy, with whom he sailed for two years after the terrible last battle that drove them from Dorla.  He dreams of Krunkshank, who went far to the west, perhaps even to Dorhaus, accompanying Anvar the Paraelementalist so long ago.  He dreams of Droidi, the small two-headed half-dragon, arguing with himself, head snarling at head.  He dreams of recent times, spent on Pesh in meditation and study.  He remembers the bile that rose in his throat when he saw that the accursed Cluma had overthrown the local obelisk to his deity; he recalls the mission his masters at the temple had sent him on.  He dreams of the Egg of Na'Rat.They whirl like a tornado, his dreams; they go back to times long past, to the Sea Wraith.  He recalls again the fight against the roper that left him drained and weak, and how he struggled madly as his companions pulled the hat from his brow and hurled it into the fire.  He remembers, in his night visions, the horrible thirst and hunger that came over him immediately afterwards- eating and eating, gulping down water, trying to restore himself.  And then....The lich.His mind whirls through a succession of images, his triumph over Alexis the lich among them.  Then, Clambake wakes up.  Morning has come, and he has an Egg to locate.***He remembers the two long years under the aegis of the temple of Na'Rat in Pesh, and the excitement of the high priest when he sent Clambake on this quest.  "The Egg of Na'Rat," he exhorted.  "A powerful item indeed!" "Arr, what am I to do with it?" Clambake had asked."You will know," the high priest had answered with a wide grin.Not sure exactly what he's looking for, Captain Clambake walks out onto the streets of the Shining City.  Next Time: Sheva meets Glaxo!</blockquote>

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