One of Garran's crew, perhaps a bit overly eager to sneak a bit of the captain's private stock, greedily wheeled out a cart with dark oak barrels from a nearby store room while everyone was distracted, pausing momentarily as Rolnak and Garran clashed words before continuing the discretely wheel the brew over towards Neon and the others. The captain had said the drinks could wait, but it would be in poor service to their guests to keep them waiting, right? Locking the cart in place near the others, the sailor tried to sneack back below deck, planning to “appear” in a few minutes once the casks had been opened to steal a drink or two.
Meanwhile, Mark, having been left behind by Sieg, wretched in an empty hall, green moss splattering against the deck. It seemed using the bugs at the harbor had taken a bigger toll on him than he had realized. It had been too long, he had spent too much time away from the swamp. “Oh well,” he thought as he began to ooze between the cracks, sliding down the outside of the ship, “I suppose nobody will miss me if I go away for a while.”
In his current state Mark lacked the strength to make the full journey. Instead, he drifted underwater and latched onto the underside of the boat, fanning out to form a layer of moss on the planks. He would have to remain there for a while, feeding off the algae in the water to recover his strength. It was less than ideal, but necessary if he was to continue his travels.
Neon tensed up at the sound of Rolnak's voice, the raging bull having been uncharacteristically subdued thus far, to the point that she had completely forgot that he joined them on the ship. She still felt there was unresolved business between the two of them, regardless of how much they needed his skill, a sentiment echoed by his own description of the group. Furthermore, tensions were mounting between Garran and Rolnak, a potentially explosive combination if left unresolved. Even with his as-of-now calm attitude, Neon couldn't help but wonder if, or rather when, he would snap. All the signs were there, and while she continued to write off his aggression as that of a man born and raised in violence, it was obvious the feralism was there, even if she wanted to deny it. Then again, perhaps that was all the more reason for them to push forward. If ever there was a poster child for “the dangers of feralism,” Rolnak was it.
It wasn't until Rolnak offered his hand to the captain that Neon was able to breathe again, and even Shade and Sieg appeared from below to join in the festivities. She jumped slightly as the somewhat broken Nathan coughed, or grinded, or... something. Choosing to be the bigger woman and hold her tongue, a rare instance of self control on Neon's part, she walked around the edge of the ship towards the others, stumbling over a sailor trying to make his way below deck. She was about to yell at him when her attention was caught instead on the oak barrels ahead of her. “Oh sweet gods be praised!” she said as she ran ahead, the sweet smell of fine liquor emanating from the barrels, “we can stop drinking this horse piss” Neon added, dumping the contents of her mug as she said it. Pulling the stopper out of one of the barrels, she ran the tap, dark amber ale pouring into her now empty mug. The brew was thick, a strong hoppy aroma matched by a rich color. “Shade, Sieg! Come over here and get some of this! You two look like you could use a drink.”
Torva grinned, blushing slightly as Hagumi's seduction as she fell backwards, bringing him with her until they were sprawled on the deck. The others, distracted by Garran's tense interactions with Rolnak, took no notice. Empowered by the brew in his body, Torva leaned forward and responded to Hagumi's suggestive motions, “It would be even better if we weren't so dressed.”
Hagumi laughed, and Torva hoped it wasn't what he had said, but when asked she simply replied “it was nothing.” Realizing the private stock had in fact been drawn out, as evidence by Neon's drunken shouts of joy from the other end of the ship, Torva climbed off of Hagumi, lifting her easily with one arm to her feet and pulling her by the hand towards the others. Overhearing Rolnak, Torva whispered “go join Neon, I'll be there shortly,” before reluctantly letting go of her hand and trotting towards the burly men. Someone had to vouch for Rolnak, after all why would the captain believe him on his own, and Neon certainly wasn't going to do it. “Captain,” Torva interrupted, doing his best to act and speak sober, “he's with us. Actually, you were looking for someone capable of out drinking you, if I recall, and there's no man or daeva on land or sea more capable than the bull before you.”