I hate boats!

anDrok rocked back and forth trying to mimic the movements that the young deck swab had shown him. Down here in bowels of the ship where Verak and he were stationed however the perpetual dark mustiness, accented by the pungent smell of sweat and puke had the Rhennigar squire spilling his guts. The first day had been bad to say the least. anDrok cared little for his prisoner now for he felt that he was going to die as his mouth burned with the simple yellow bile from his empty stomach.

Day 2 aboard the cursed ship and no relief was to be found for the weather had turned violent and now as anDrok lay with his body prone on the planks of the rolling ship his pale face plastered to the floor as the salt caked the side of his face from the water that would now and again spill through from somewhere in the darkness above. Seeing the rugged but small bare feet of a true sailer standing over him, Pip the young swab poured some fiery liquid into the side of the squire’s mouth. “Here, we call this Grog. You Nobles might call it rum but out here it’s still Grog.”

Sapped of energy anDrok felt the dark liquid trickling down from his lips to the path down to his innerds. “My thanks to you Pip but while yesterday I felt I should surely die.”

“Are you better today?”

“Today I simply pray that I will die! I shudder to think what that Grog of yours will do when it comes back to land on the floor as it will inevitably do.”

“What of your friend, how does he fare?”

“No friend of mine is he. A prisoner of sorts.”

For the first time in many hours anDrok sat up peeling his salty cheek from the floor while still feeling the wrenching burn of both overused muscles used to wretch and the better feeling of rum in his empty belly.

Whether the rum or his curses to the skies anDrok felt a whole lot better. It was day seven of their journey as the squire looked out to see the flags of Hagen flying in the distance in their approach to the eastern harbour. The sailors were earning their keep moving about, the creaking rigging and sun blistered ship like flies on a new kill. The ponderous anchor hit the water with a resounding splash pulling a large chain down to the bottom of the harbour with it. The Rhennigar squire looked around for his charge mentally berating himself for being so mesmerized by the workings of the sailing vessel. It would not be long now he thought. A quick stop in Hagen to re-supply and then a few days up the Southern Alahadrion River following Lake Lusarra to Cyradon....then the work would begin to have Verak sing like a songbird. Shit. Verak. Where was he?

anDrok grabbed the scruff of the hunched over sailer who thought he might be first to board one of the boats over to the city of Hagen, “Not so fast Verak, it will take more than just a bit of subterfuge to get away from me!”

Not knowing that he was foreshadowing fate Verak and anDrok moved through the town on their way to saddle up for the ride to Cyradon. It had been difficult to garner all the supplies given the Rhennigar squire’s affiliation with Khel. Turning the corner to the stables two powerful looking men blocked the road looking directly at anDrok, “Let the vermin go. He’s ours now”

Looking around anDrok pulled his sword as he realized that two more were coming in at him from behind.

As anDrok lay bleeding onto the flagstone he cursed the sailing vessel that had left him weaker than he should have been. While he had injured each of the four would be assasins quite grievously he had still gone down before finishing the job. Now who would want Verak? This was strange as someone with many a gold “Dolar” as they referred to them in the Palatinate, would be behind this.

Sitting up in bed the young squire finally felt up to searching for his escapee. It had been a week since they had landed in Hagen and it was now time to ignore the pain that still throbbed in his side and figure out where this slimy snake was.

It had taken another three weeks but anDrok finally had found his prey. The gruff looking man in front of anDrok wiped his grease laden hands on the sides of his apron which did to clean them or the filth that lay caked on the seams of the abused clothing. Placing a thick finger in one ear to itch it casually the cook looked at his pinky now adorning an ochre coloured chunk. Flicking it casually he looked at the Noble in front of him. “My Lord, you must understand that I am but a lowly cook in the service of Lord Halwen. I know nothing of some vermin named Verak that would be newly come here.”

anDrok pulled his sword slowly from it’s sheath allowing the eyes of the grimy cook to take in it’s sheer power. “I will chop you up into hash and throw you into that pot if you don’t tell me what I want to know. It will likely improve the taste of the filth you serve.”

Scratching his stubbled chin the cook gave anDrok the information he needed.
“Finally”, murmured the squire, “Verak in the dungeons of Lord Halwen.” What would Khel have me do now?