Fight the Real Enemy!
	Escape, For Real!

When he climbs aboard Jacobus grins at Rhune as he jams the spear into a more secure position. "Let's see if we can persuade them to take additional passengers. If not..." he shrugs leaving the rest unsaid as he fingers the dagger in his belt. Jacobus and Rhune head toward the helm, where they find the helmsman has just heard the commotion and begun approaching the sideboards. Seeing Rhune and Jacobus, he looks at them cautiously, with a clever light in his eye, "Boarders, be ye?" Jacobus smiles at the Helmsman and after a brief glance over at Rhune he moves closer to the Helmsman "It's fortunate that you are here, we missed our barge a couple of hours ago and require passage down the river." he looks back at Rhune watching as the helmsman's eyes follow his, "as you can see, taking us aboard has certain benefits." Jacobus moves him further away from Rhune and talks in a low whisper "She's a rare beauty is she not ? Having her strolling around on deck could certainly make a long voyage more pleasurable, wouldn't you say ?" The man nods his head absently, not taking his eyes of the pretty little lady, "Aye, and having her bedside would make the trip a downright lovely thing, wouldn' it?" He chuckles, leering at Rhune, "Needin' a ride, are ye?" He cackles annoyingly, "Have to talk to the captain about that. Stay here." He continues to stareat Rhune's wares, bumping his nose on the cabin door as he walks. He opens it quietly. Jacobus walks over to Rhune "He's going to get the Captain." he grins at her, "It would seem you made quite an impression. I think we've stumbled upon a band of pirates or smugglers, after all who else would be travelling at this late hour ?" Rhune, drenched to the bone her very wet light linen tunic hugging her soft, slight curves stands looking at both men. She is uncomfortably aware that the one is leering at her and wonders just what Jacobus said to him. She may have to ask him later when she gets a chance. As the man passes her and leaves the room she shudders as she remembers that the Bishop's functionary had also leered at her. She sighs, wishing she had her cloak with her. As this goes on, the boat, and it's stowaways, head far enough upriver that they are sure no rider could see them now. They hear no hue and cry at any point, and those of positive mind begin to think that they made a clean getaway, until they remember those left behind who could surely let the Bishop know where they went, under proper enticement. The cabin door swings open, and two men emerge. They do not appear to have been sleeping, odd at this very late hour, and indeed do not even seem disturbed particularly by the intrusion. Both are middle-aged men. One is short with receding black hair wearing only a heavy brown robe. The other is his opposite, tall, friendly-looking, with a full head of stark red hair, which shines in the moonlight. He wears a fine blue robe comfortably. This one speaks, smiling at both Jacobus and Rhune, "It's a ride you are needing? Well, it's a start. You two have any friends in Arrezo? You look a little washed out. What happened? Never mind, you can tell me everything after you have a rest. All we have is the galley for sleeping, but you are welcome to it." Jacobus bows to the two men "Your generosity is most gracious, we thank you for your most needed hospitality." The man nods almost imperceptibly, glancing about as if he expects something more.Then, he looks about and notices the rest of the group sitting silently at the rear. Rather than being unhappy, he seems downright joyful, "More of you! How delightful!" He motions toward them and approaches, ignoring Jacobus' efforts to speak, "And a lot of you there are here! Excellent, excellent!" He looks admiringly at Ullar's rippling muscles and seems to be rather impressed with the sorry looking band. "Just what I needed! A mercenary band, yes?" He turns back toward Jacobus, "And you their spokesmen, come to offer me services or cash for transport, yes?" Once again, his speech falls out almost unhaltingly, giving Jacobus time only to mutely nod his head, "And you the treasurer of the group, yes?" motioning to Rhune. "Put your money away. I have need of you, and rest and a ride will only begin to pay for your services." Sweeping his arms about, he motions toward the stairway to the galley, "You all shall rest now and then hear my offer in the morning. You look worn out, and I would have fresh ears to hear what I have to say. Find yourselves a place to sleep and I will speak to you again on the morrow." He then grandly gestures at the group with a smile and returns to the cabin. The other man, not quite so happy, gestures toward the ladder, "Ain't much room, but there's hay to sleep on. Don't go gettin' blood all over the place, and keep the ladies away from the men. I won't have any problems on my ship. Whatever Stephan says, I'll toss your mangy asses overboard if you give me reason." The fellow looks well capable of doing exactly that. Though not geared for warfare, his carriage leads you to believe this fellow has seen his share. He gruffly turns, tossing back over his shoulder, "Cook won't be havin' nothing till morning, but there's some hard tack in the barrel to your right and bit of wine in the one to your left. Don't go gettin' drunk or anythin', or I'll have your hide." He then strides into the cabin after the red-headed man, closing the door roughly behind him. You hear some conversation immediately erupt from inside. When the two men leave Jacobus turns to the wet group and smiles his arms spread wide "Passage has been booked !" he said pleased with himself, even though he did nothing, "I told you I would repay your kindness. Granted they seem a little strange but I for one would rather endure their little quirks than the hard steel of a guardsman." When the conversation errupts from the cabin Jacobus feels compelled to move closer to the door and tries to listen in, he whispers to the group "Old habits die hard." The skills must die easier than he thinks, as Jacobus is able to make out nothing but mumbles from the door. Seeing the helmsman with his eye on him, Jacobus aborts the attempt, shrugging his shoulders. The helmsman only laughs. Ullar, glad that there is no dispute about the group coming aboard, sits down, quietly, in a corner. He unpack his wet sack and backpack, seeing to it that his stuff find a place to dry. It's obvious that the warrior is mourning for his lost comrades. Although the time spend together was short, the former Gladiator feels a close connection to most members of the group. As they say.. great minds think alike, and the warrior concludes to himself that that might be true for great bodies as well. Feeling rather tired, Ullar soon falls asleep in his corner, even forgetting to eat and drink, as offered by 'the other man'. Rhune sighs, it would seem that they may have to work for this man instead of paying him. Oh well a little work never hur. . then she remembers "the little work" the gnomes wanted them to do and sighs again. She quickly goes to gather in the rope and see if anyone did tie her bundle on the larger rope. She had time to tie her bundle indeed, but unfortunately, it was tied onto the section of the rope that now is probably lying at the bottom of the river bed. Right now she looks like a drowned rat: her curly, silver hair is plastered against her face and shoulders, her tunic is soaking wet outlinning her curves very nicely and she is shivering now that she is out of the warm water. She goes in and stakes out a spot for her herself and then gets a little of the hardtack and wine to munch on and drank. She finds the tack is edible, barely, but the wine is terrible, vinegary and sour. She finds she can take only a sip before her fragile elven stomach rejects it completely. The events of the day weighing heavily on him, Urak mumbles his thanks to Ullar as he is hauled aboard the ship. Drenched from the swift flowing waters of the Arno, he stands quietly, silently dripping water as he contemplates the deck beneath his feet. When the rest of the party heads below, Urak stumbles after them. Looking around at the companions Rhune notices that Urak appears to be very sad and that everyone else seems to be resigned to whatever happens. Looking up at the Urk, she smiles at him and offers him some of the wine, "Urak, I am sure that your Speaker will understand the choices you had to make today." she says softly trying to cheer up this most unusual man. She wishes, though that Dax, Silus and Kenshiro were here. Urak makes an effort to return the smile, but the dullness in his eyes gives lie to the sentiment. "I cannot understand the choices I have made, how should I expect others to?" he says simply, shrugging slightly. Rhune pats her pouch with the Blue Tube and looks around. "Should we examine what I have here, now or wait until we have a little more privacy?" she asks the party. Matteo's ears perk up when the others began discussing the blue tube, and he eases his way over to watch. "I'm a very curious elf"-says Krige, and smiles. "I think we should examine the Blue Tube now." Rhune sees that the stoppered cap of the Blue Tube is stuck tight, unnaturally tight. Krige takes a hand and finds it does not even budge, even though it does not appear to be wedged very tightly. Using any means other than destruction, the group is totally unable to open the tube. Rhune sighs again. She had really wanted to know what was in it. The gnoll had died for this. Oh well she will have to wait and try again. She places it securely in one her pouches that she managed to save. She feels a little naked without her leather armor but that lies at the bottom of the river along with her boots, backpack and her throwing daggers. She is also glad that she managed to keep the pouch of money. That will come in very handy later. As she is wearing nothing underneath her tunic the only thing that she can strip out of in an attempt to dry off is her pants. After doing so she settles down to begin her watch. She is wet, thirsty, and miserable, but at least she is alive and most of her companions are with her. She worries about Dax, Silus and the big foreign man and only hopes that Everan is with them. Krige removes all his clothes except breeches, and lays it on the deck. Then he opens his backpack, gets small tent out of it, removes his knife and longsword from their sheathes and also puts all this stuff on the deck for drying. "I don't trust these sailors... You may rest, but I'll not sleep here!"-says Krige to the party. As Rhune enters the galley she sees and hears Krige's response. Given everything that has happened to them since the meeting she does not blame the elf. In fact now that she thinks about it he may have a good idea. Sighing deeply, her nose wrinkles at the smell of those around her and her unwashed self. Mentally making a note that if she gets to a town soon she is going to have to take a bath. She takes her long sword and using some of the hay drys it off and then reseathes it. Looking around at the others, "Krige seems to think that we should remain on guard. Unfortunately I have to agree with him. With Krige outside, I can take first watch. If someone else can take another watch I would feel better." she says in a weary tone of voice Attempting to find a quiet corner, Urak sinks to the floor, resting his head in his hands. Mentally replaying the events of the past twenty-four hours, he tries to imagine something he could have done differently, some magical remedy that would have allowed him to preserve both his duty and his honor. But no alternative comes to mind. The past events have flowed too quickly, and the failure too recent for him to examine his actions dispassionately. When you cannot see the whole, focus on the details, Speaker had told him once, perhaps in the details of his daily maintenance, he could grasp a better understanding of the whole. With an almost obsessive completeness, Urak begins sorting through his remaining gear. Items that could be potentially damaged by his brief swim, he dries as best he can. Items that have been completely and irrevocably destroyed, he sorts out. He finds that all of those items that made the trip with him seem to have survived the swim, the fine cured leather from his homeland protecting his collection of small items. Only one items, one of his vials of writing ink, has been penetrated by the waters and dyed the pouch's interior black and made quite a mess. Reaching into the pouch is quite messy, so Urak discards it, carefully plucking the other vial, cleaning it, and placing it into another of his many pouches. Once finished, he shifts slightly on the floor, resting his small drum on his lap. Drawing a crude stone knife, he rests it on the floor, blade pointed towards himself. Lightly tapping the drum in deference to the hospitality of the crew, he begins to chant softly in Urkish. The words are hard to make out, even for those with a passing knowledge in the tongue, but to a member of the People, the haunting melody and solemn words are disturbingly familiar. It is the Biern-ste-morg, the dirge for the fallen. It is a song every Urk has heard, life in the high steppes is hard, and no tribe is ever completely sheltered from losses. As an infant, he heard it sung for his mother. As a boy, for Yerek, his best friend who died in a hunting accident. As a man, he sang the dirge with Speaker as part of his duties as an apprentice. Now, he sings it for Kenshiro. Though unsure of the Oriental's beliefs, Urak can only hope to lend some small solace to the man's spirit. Surely, no god of any people would deny the spirits of their dead comfort? Until he can carry word of his shame to Kenshiro's family, it is the least he can do. Both duty and honor require it. Later, below decks, Marika moves about mechanically, carrying food and drink to her companions, helping to salvage and dry their posessions... She is bone-tired but doggedly fighting off sleep, afraid of the moment when she has to shut out the world and face herself behind closed eyes. What had she been thinking, fretting about saving books while ignoring the sacred obligation of a healer to her patient? Her place should have been alongside Urak, helping to get Kenishiro to safety. She wants to offer the Urk some comfort -- she can see that his conscience oppresses him, although he did everything in his power, and more, to aid the warrior -- but she has no idea what to say, or why he should attach any relevance to her words after her shameful negligence. Finding that everyone's clothing, regular and spare, is soaked to the bone, she begins setting them out, attempting to dry them at night in the galley, which is not terribly effective. While the various items appear to be drying out nicely, anything of cloth is going to be damp until provided the heat of the sun to dry them. Thus the group is in almost a scandalous display of bare flesh as they attempt to dry out all their possesions. Some of the bolder men have stripped down to only their underclothes, and the ladies rid themselves of everything that will leave them some of their modesty. When Urak begins to chant his haunting dirge, Marika closes her eyes and lowers herself to the floor, sitting in the hay with her back against the curve of the boat's hull. She lets the low sound of his voice and the complex but solemn drumbeat carry her out of herself, and she adds to them her own silent prayers that the Goddess lend her strength and insight to the spirits of Kenishiro, Silus, and Dax, whether they now reside with the living or with the dead. Once the others have retired to the Galley or the Conversation in the Cabin has ceased, Jacobus wanders over to the Helmsman again and engages him in polite conversation, trying to determine where they are headed and what they are needed for. The helmsman proves quite open to conversation, obviously quite bored with his night shift all alone. He seems quite happy to have the partner. Though Jacobus is weary, he proves quite the good mate. The helmsman introduces himself as Petruchio. He informs Jacobus that the trawler is climbing the Arno River to dock in Arezzo, some forty miles upstream. He estimates that it will take most of tomorrow, probably early morning the day after. There they plan to put on a few fresh oarsmen and shove off, though to where he does not know. He informs Jacobus with a grin that they have been waiting for some days now for something like the group's appearance. As long as it paid, he didn't care, but crossing back and forth down the Arno since the Day of Rest struck him as very strange. However, he told them that they would see a group of people in need, and sure enough, there you all were. Strange, he says, but he is not one to question the ways of the gods. As for what Stephan has planned, Petruchio shrugs his shoulders, "Just a sailor-man, my friend. I don't know the whos and hows of the bosses. I just get paid to steer this thing." He smiles and produces a flask and takes a quick belt, making a raw face, "Care for some?" Jacobus grins at him "Don't mind if I do, it's been some time since I last had a drink." Jacobus licks his lips involuntarily as he is passed the flask. He doesn't waste time, taking one deep gulp of the liquid inside. Jacobus bends over double and places one hand on Petruchio's shoulder for stability. "That's strong stuff" he says to the Helmsman in a now hoarse voice. He hands back the flask to Petruchio and gazes over the side of the ship. "What's the fishing like in these parts ?" The helmsman smiles, "Depends on what you are fishing for, I guess!" Marika opens her eyes, disoriented, and realizes with a start that she had been deeply asleep...for how long, she isn't certain. Her sore arms and shoulders shriek in protest at the slightest movement, but her mind is clearer now. She is still ashamed of her actions, but to dwell on this shame would be pure self-indulgence, of no help to Kenishiro or anyone else. Shaking the cobwebs from her brain, Marika picks her way among the sleepers to see who is on watch, and if they would like her to relieve them. She sees that there is some hint of light from the ladder, though it is clearly not quite morning yet. Rhune sits in some sort of meditative state, apparently having not been relieved by any of the men, who all sleep soundly, Ullar snoring loud enough that Marika is surprised she didn't wake earlier. Marika offers to relieve Rhune, who gratefully accepts and falls asleep. Marika then opens her satchel, and begins to examine its contents, to see whether she managed to protect the books and scroll from complete destruction. All are there and completely secure. She thanks her patron lady and begins to settle down, an odd mixture of reverence and studiousness, reading her book while sitting in a devotee position. After almost an hour of this, she closes her book, having fully restored her magical energies.

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	Benjamin Lomax

This page was last updated on 29 January 2001