Migalen, Dacien and Deeshon sit in a small low-ceilinged Tobon tavern near the docks. Migalen pours yeasty ale for the other two from a pitcher. "Tell me how he died, lad..." the old one says to Dacien.
Dacien swigs deeply from his tankard, "You would'n believe it if'n I did tell you, Migalen. I saw it and I'm still waiting for to wake up."Dacien shakes his head, eyes filling, "More a father to me than me own drover, he was."
Migalen toys with his black dome-shaped hat on the table before him. His own tankard sits empty. "He was a fine man, and I'll miss him. But what's to become of th'Reckoning?"
Dacien sniffs strongly and looks up, "Rhyll has taken over as Captain and Baj is first mate, but there's some unrest. That's me other reason fer wanting to speak with ye in private."Dacien glances around the tavern, "I need ye to get some information to Brixton. There's a member of his bunch that's on the Reckoning now and stirring up trouble. Name of Koster."
Migalen glances about at the Tobon in the tiny tavern. "Y'had that look, my friend. We can speak here." This is a place of your people, where you can feel at home. A place where the small, unobtrusive Tobon can be with others of their kind.
Deeshon leans forward...he hasn't heard this plan yet.
The old Tobon rubs his stubbled face with his gloved hand. "What sorta trouble?"
Dacien says, "He's a sluggard, just the sort that Brixton would toss ta the gutter, and now he's pulling together a crew of his own on the Reckoning. He'll try somethin' some day soon and I'd prefer Brixton's revenge found him first. Otherwise, good men might get hurt fighting him off."
Dacien says, "I know ya haven't much use fer Brixton or his sort, but maybe ye could let the info find it's way and put the payback in yer pocket fer a rainy day?"
Migalen nods. "Aye, son, I can pass the word. But you know Brix...he'll want something fer his pains. Recompense, as it were. This Koster, he's likely nothin' to him now. Are y'offering aught for it?"
Dacien nods, "Now, this bastard's name might not be Koster, but he's hiding from Brixton as sure as I can climb a mast. He's a sandy redhead and no younster either, an uncommon sight in this town, I'm sure."
Migalen nods. "I take your meanin', Dace. Are y'in town long? Maybe I can find out more for ye on this 'Koster' fellow whilst you're about."
Dacien shakes his head, "Afraid not, Migalen. The Captain has some business to complete real quick afore we head back out to sea. In fact, he'd like a word with ye at the Crouching Lion before he leaves."
Dacien extends a hand, "I rightly appreciate the favor, Migalen, couldn't ask no more."
Migalen refills your tankards. "I'll let the right folks know about this fellow, and what happens, will be his destiny. And I'll be glad t'speak with your Captain at the Lion. Just in time for elevenses!"
Dacien smiles, "Aye, and I'm sure that the Captain will be glad to buy a drink for such a good friend of the former Captain."
The Crouching Lion is one of the largest taverns at the waterside, a two-story affair with a real glass window adorns the front, a magnificent lion ready to leap is formed from bits of red and yellow stained glass. The tavern has grown and prospered in recent times.
Hannaford, the proprietor, is an old Angharan soldier who was injured in one of the many skirmishes between the barons there.
Migalen pushes open the doors and shows the other two Tobon inside. His hansom is parked outside.
Inside, Rhyll and the shore party sit at a large table in the center of the main tap room, with a cask of wine nearby and a big platter of fried fish fingers for breakfast in the center. The room is crowded with folk, even at this time of day, late morning.The main room has a high two-story ceiling, and a wooden chandelier burning with candles hangs from above. A broad stairway leads to a railed gallery that runs around all four sides of the main taproom. The inn's rooms each front on this gallery.
Dacien enters the Crouching Lion and heads directly to the table where Rhyll and the others are seated, "Captain, might I introduce an old friend, Migalen."
Rhyll says, "... and so I says to the farmer, I'm sorry, I thought that was your milking cow, not your daughter!""
Drarn and Soti roar with laughter at the Captain's tale.
Ferlan looks puzzled, like he doesn't get the joke.Benning smiles dryly.
Migalen is an aging Tobon with dark stubble, wearing a long coat, round hat and and threadbare clothes. He removes his hat to bow to Rhyll.
Rhyll having finished his tale, slams his tankard on the table and turns to Dacien, "Ah Dace you're here. Just the man I was looking for."
Dacien bows slightly and speaks softly, "Captain, this is Migalen, an old friend of Captain Tyree and a valuable man to know."
Rhyll gets up from the table and performs a low bow, "And I see your travelling with some respectable company for a change. Master Migalen it is a pleasure."
"My condolences, Captain, on yer loss." Migalen says softly. "It's a loss for all o'us."
Dacien excuses himself and makes his way to the bar to speak with his friend Hannaford.
Rhyll takes on a look of seriousness and again bows his head. "My thanks, he was like a Da to me. It is a great loss."
Dacien says, "Hannaford, ye great mountain, hand me down a mug o' yer finest, and none o' that swill ye serve when people ain't lookin'."
Hannaford is behind the bar, a burly blond Reith with a graying beard, wiping out some glasses. He goggles at the Tobon before him. "By Baron Brock's arse!" he roars, merrily. "Is that you, Dace? One mug, comin' right up!" He fills a mug with Dacien's favorite brew and sets it down. "Good to see you!"
Dacien climbs up onto a barstool, "Good ta see you, Hanna. What's the good word?"
The old warrior shakes his head, as if he has suffered long. "The word is, this city is no place for an honest man. But that's why we love it so. And why you keep coming back, I guess. What brings you into town?"
Dacien jerks his thumb over his shoulder, "Captain's business, I'm just here fer the beer and ta make sure he finds his way back ta the ship."
As Dacien's mug empties, Hannaford refills it, grinning. "Well, we've plenty of that. I've got another cask I was saving for a special occasion. I'll run out back and get it, and you and your friends can enjoy it. And tell 'em not to worry about the tab."
Dacien takes a smaller sip, "Save yerself the trip, we ain't staying long. Just some conversation and we're off agin."
Hannaford gestures, insistently. "Then take it with you. I owe you more than that, my friend."
Rhyll says to Migalen, "I don't suppose you remember but we met once when I was a boy tagging along on Tyree's coattails. He had great respect for you, sir.""
Migalen nods. "And I him. I do recall you, now, Captain. The Captain spoke well of you even when you were a young'un. I see he was right." He sits down at the table.
Rhyll looks around, "I'd like to speak to you of some business. I have a room, where we can speak in more privacy."
Migalen nods. "Of course. Lead the way, sir."
Rhyll turns and leads Migalen upstairs to the private room he's rented earlier.
Dacien leans in over the bar, "And speaking of conversation, have ya seen me little mate Nevil about?"
The Angharan bartender ponders."Hmmm.... Nevil? He comes in once in a while. Always busy, that one."
Dacien nods and sips his beer, "I owe him a few silvers, I'll leave it with you if he don't show before we leave. If you don't mind holding it fer him?"
Hannaford says, "Not at all. Let me get that beer for you while you're waitin'." He takes the bag of silver serpents from Dacien, slipping it securely into his pocket, and backs away, exiting the bar by a small door that leads to an exterior courtyard behind the tavern.
A group of Reith, with an Urag, have entered the crowded Crouching Lion. They have the rolling walk of sailors and joke merrily with each other, bantering and teasing, looking forward to time here.
At the table, Benning sees them, recognizes them, and waves his hand gently to get Dacien's attention.
Dacien hops down from his stool and strolls over to Benning. He knows them. These men are from the Firewing, the pirate ship of Captain Draco. There are five Reith, and a broad scarred Urag. Their leader is the Firewing's second officer, an ugly squint-eyed Reith with one ear named Guldas. Rhyll himself took off that ear the last time the crews met. They haven't spotted you yet in the crowd, but it's only a matter of time.
Benning points. "It may be time to go..."
Ferlan says, still befuddled, "So explain to me what the Captain meant by that joke. I still don't get it!"
Dacien nods, "They know better than to start anything in here, Hannaford won't put up with it. But I'll fetch the Captain."
Dacien ducks away from the table and heads for the room where Rhyll and Migalen are meeting.
Guldas orders, "Barkeep! Some o'that Kalidan whiskey, and keep it comin'!" His men roar approval and appreciation. The Urag looks about, like he's on the scent of something.
Dacien raps lightly on the door and barges into the room, "We got trouble brewing Cap'n. The crew o' the Firewing." He ducks into the room and emerges a moment later with Rhyll and Migalen.
Below, in the taproom, Benning is calmly standing before Guldas and the others,
clearly trying to defuse the situation. Hannaford still hasn't returned from
his errand.
The Urag, Kugg, is glowering at the priest.
Guldas demands, "So where's yer Captain, hey, Benning?"
Rhyll quickly leaps down the last few steps and runs up next to Benning. He bellows, "Guldas, my good man! It's been a long time, let me buy you and your friends a round, hey?"
Dacien lets Rhyll go down the stairs, while remaining at the top, and looks around for a tactical advantage. Migalen slips away into the crowd.
Guldas, slaps away Rhyll's hand. "Stuff yer drink, you little pissant. I''ve been waitin' fer a rematch since th'last time we met."
Dacien sneaks back along the second-floor balcony, heading for the rope which holds the chandelier.
Rhyll looks hurt, "Now now, Guldas is that any way to treat an old friend? If it's a rematch you want, what type will it be? Dice? Cards? Drinking?"
Guldas draws his knife. "No, I had something more permanent in mind. Fer me ear!"
Rhyll realizes nothing will soothe Guldas but blood. So he raises his hands and says, "Would you strike and unarmed man?" As this works it's way through Guldas' thick skull, Rhyll knees the oaf in the balls.
As the big man reels over in pain Rhyll grabs him by his one remaining ear and slams his head into the near by table. "Oh, dear, I do think you've bloodied your nose old chap". He then draws his sword and says, "Shall we lop another one off tonight do ya think?"
Dacien unties the chandelier rope and takes it in hand before he stands on the railing, yelling out, "The Reckoning is come!!!" as he sails into the fray.