Quote Originally Posted by Chimaera View Post
"I guess I'll get extra drunk tonight then", Godfrey grins and takes his prize.

Turning to Syl, he take the opportunity to chat a bit and know more about the ship's course.
"How long until we get to a port town though? I fear you'll have no gold left if it takes too long and you guys play like this every night", he brags about his skill and luck, "But rest assured that I wont take any more gold out of your pockets. Tonight, I mean", he get up and leave the tables as to avoid losing what he just gained: Luck is a fickle thing after all.

With an idea and a plan on his mind, he decide to head where the owlbear is kept.

"Does the owlbear have a name? I do thing there must be a very interesting tale on that nickname and the way you ended here", he ask the big chainned man and sip from his rum, "I hope you can tell me those. Are you thirsty?", he says and offer his glass of rum to the man, fully aware the chains wont let him drink it.
The Owlbear is curled up small against the stairs to cradle his wounds, or at least as small as such a large man can get. He looks up in some part of shock as someone actually attempts to have a conversation with him, and reaches wistfully for the glass of rum, only to be brought up short by the chains affixing his hands to the mast.

"I don't.... I don't remember," he says, after a moment. "He's always called me Owlbear."

"But I wasn't always here. I do remember that. I had a home. And a ma. Then I didn't." The big man actually starts to tear up before he swallows them down. "Why'd He take me, you think?"

Suddenly, a dawning light in his eyes: "Does He want me to fight you too?"

Quote Originally Posted by Table Flipper View Post
Sarra stifles a laugh at Rosie's attempt at innocence. "That is quite a pickle. Ya think she'd sell it to me? From there mayhaps it finds its way back to you. Oh, but fiddlesticks, I'm so poor followin' my recent 'recruitment.'" Sarra looks off into space with feigned wistfulness.
Rosie looks tellingly off to one side. "Well, if hypothetically, of course, someone were to get this fiddle for themselves, and then should just so happen to get tired of it and give it to their good friend Rosie... Your good friend who just so happened to give you a loan... But be careful. Grok's bark is worse than her bite, but it's her vile breath that's the worst of all."