• As a bright crack of lightning lit the sky, the cloaked face of Caryas O'Connel glanced out a window seaward at the raging storm. A loud crack of thunder came from outside a moment later, rolling about as if a giant beached whale had found its way into the dingy port town of Terrencefork. The dimly lit bar was home to many a dark figure. Caryas shivered and drew the cloak up closer to him. He stood beside Bruce as he conversed with one of the shadowy figures. The one to whom Bruce spoke dropped his hood and revealed himself to be a dark colored fox, and much less grizzled than either Caryas or Bruce. The fox motioned for the two to follow him, and he made his way towards the counter. At the counter, the fox whispered to the barkeep and left for a room behind the bar. "Sorry 'bout the secrecy, mate," Bruce whispered as the barkeep, a wolf, approached. "But if yeh try to find someone in Terrencefork, yeh've gotta be discreet." Caryas nodded, remembering Bruce's words about keeping silent. The barkeep smiled as he neared the two of them. "And how could I help you gentlemen out?" He asked, sweeping some ash from the counter where they had sat. Bruce looked around, then leaned in. "To be honest, mate, we're a bit busy to drink, an' I'm not usually one to turn down a drink." The bartender seemed confused for a moment, then smiled. "Ah." He nodded to them once more, then left to serve the other customers just as the black fox returned.
    "Alright then, gentlemen. If you would, come with me." He spoke for the first time at a volume that Caryas could hear him, and he was surprised to hear that the fox sounded like a member of upper class society. They nodded and together walked with him into the back room he had earlier disappeared into. As Caryas' eyes adjusted to the light even dimmer than the room outside, he made out that the black fox had sat with a figure at a nearby table. The room was completely empty except for the four of them. The fox motioned for them to sit. When they hesitated, the fox spoke, "Please don't mistreat my hospitality, gentlemen. Sit." Bruce did so, and soon followed Caryas. The fox folded his hands on the table, dropping the cloak he wore and revealing himself to be dressed richly, in handsome clothes fitting of nobility.
    "Gentlemen, you're here because I can help you in finding someone of interest to you?" He asked, and Caryas nodded. "You are also here because in my busy schedule, upon seeing your situation I have marked you two possibly of value to an... 'Expedition' I intend on embarking upon once your little crisis is solved." He nodded again to them, and Caryas felt a tick of annoyance and dislike. He didn't like how the man was treating them. And if he hadn't promised Bruce to remain silent until he said so, he'd tell him so. However, the fox continued. "I, O'Connel, as your acquaintance Bruce knows, am descended from the original settler of Terrencefork, Herbert Terrence. You may call me by my surname, which is Terrence as well, but for the record, my name is Joshua."
    Terrence gestured to the figure beside him, the one whom hadn't spoken the entire time. "This is the one whom responded to my job offering, and refuses to divulge anything to me on the grounds that I am not the one she is to be working for." Caryas smiled. Finally, someone in this town he liked. The figure raised her head, and revealed long black hair that covered her right eye. She was a black furred feline, one of unknown species, and she had the look about her of one whom had endured much hardship. Every inch of her face expressed utter defiance of those whom had wronged her. She spoke, suddenly, and her voice was soft. "You're the accused?" Caryas nodded. She raised her head a bit and smiled. "My name is Diedre. I'm the one who will hopefully be able to track down this murderer for you." Bruce snorted. "This lassie's gonna hunt down a brutal murderer for us? Pfft!" Diedre's eyes turned his direction, and he sat back, ears turned away. "Never you mind I spoke, lass." He said, smiling sheepishly.
    Terrence clapped his hands. "Gentlemen, if you'd be as good as to show proof of the payment for Diedre's services..." As Bruce was producing the satchel filled with gold, Diedre raised a hand. "No, Terrence, I'll do this one no charge." Terrence looked at her, dumbfounded. "No... Charge? You always charge!!" Diedre waved him off. "I charge for personal vendettas and such. This is... Different. He's innocent. I can tell." Caryas smiled and scratched the back of his head.
    Terrence, Bruce, and Diedre rose, the two males discussing things such as payment, when a sudden blast echoed throughout the building. The foundations shook, and bits of dust and plaster fell from the ceiling. Caryas leapt up, his hand flashing to his side where the red bundle Bruce had given him was strapped, and he produced a shining steel cutlass. Bruce produced a similar weapon and Terrence a flintlock, whereas Diedre slunk into the shadows, holding a small curved dagger. There were sounds of shouting at the bar, then a loud splintering sound as the swinging door that led behind the bar was shattered. Amidst the shouting, Caryas heard a voice both familiar and terrifying. "He's back there!!" Lord Achar shouted, and many footsteps began charging back through the halls. "Damn...! How'd He know where I was?" Caryas cursed as he glanced to the nearest window.
    Two soldiers burst into the room and raised rifles as Caryas was raising the window. One fired a shot quickly which barely missed Caryas' head. Bruce, with a roar, stabbed the man between his ribs. The other was taken down before he could shoot by Terrence's flintlock, which he abandoned, now drawing butcher's knives from a nearby cutlery case. Another two soldiers entered the room, and Bruce began dueling with one of them, whom dropped his rifle to draw his sword. The second soldier raised his rifle, aimed carefully, and pulled the trigger right before one of Terrence's knives hit him in the throat. The bullet screamed through the air and embedded itself into Caryas' left shoulder, about an inch below his shoulder blade. He yelled and fell forward onto the window, gasping as the shock hit him, and wet blood soaked his shirt.
    Diedre's eyes grew wide and she ran to the window, supporting Caryas and helping to push up the heavy wood and glass. Bruce finished the soldier he was dueling and ran towards the window as well. Terrence dropped the knives and ran after them, shirking the dead soldiers on the ground. Achar rounded the doorway and raised a pistol just as the last visible part of Terrence disappeared through the window. The bullet from his gun shattered the glass in the pane, which sprinkled down over the figures as they prepared to make a getaway. The dark figures of more approaching soldiers became visible, barely, down the road as Bruce lifted Caryas to his shoulder.
    "Hold on, mate... We'll get ya back..." They began to run, away from the soldiers and dodging down backstreets and alleyways, headed for the docks. Soldiers cries and shots came from behind them, but luck and skill kept them safe as they reached the docks. "There'll be no ships allowed to leave now that Achar knows you're here, O'Connell. I'm afraid they've got a manhunt going for you from here to Shorewald, from what I hear." Caryas' eyes were closed, and he didn't speak, but he nodded. Bruce whistled as they stopped in front of a massive frigate bearing the royal seal. "If we'd be able to take a ship like that beaut, we'd be unstoppable." An idea struck him. "Terrence, yer high up in this place right? Achar don't know ya were with us. You two are probably even friends, to some degree. If the three of us, Caryas, Diedre and me could hole up in the cargo of one of your ships, ya could probably keep us safe until we could leave." Terrence thought a moment. "Not many other options." He said quickly as soldiers' voices and lantern light approached from behind them. They slipped behind an unloaded crate, then up to a boarding plank, which Terrence ushered them quietly up and into the doorway to the cargo hold.
    They situated themselves behind a large stack of wooden crates filled with cotton and tobacco in the belly of a trade ship owned by Terrence. Terrence himself went about making the ship appear as unsuspicious as he could. While Diedre went to work on the bullet wound to Caryas' shoulder, Bruce kept a vigilant lookout on both the cargo hold doorway and through a small crack in the wooden frame, which let him see outside the ship. No-one seemed to check the ship, until two soldiers came to the boarding plank with Achar behind them. Bruce tensed and reached for his sword. But thankfully Terrence approached, spoke to the three men, then separately to Achar for a bit. Achar seemed hesitant, but he nodded and parted from Terrence. The soldiers followed reluctantly. Terrence disappeared, and a minute later came to the cargo hold. "I have convinced Achar that you are currently on the run by land to Westbury. He didn't believe me at first, but while we awaited him to come I fabricated a letter addressed to Mr. Bruce mayere here, from Caryas, that I claimed to have intercepted. This letter explained that if any problem were to occur, the two of you would meet and regroup in Westbury." Bruce smiled and shook his head. "Damn. Even prats like you can be devilish, Terrence." Caryas chose that moment to gasp and open his eyes, sitting upright.
    "What happened...?" He moaned and gripped his forehead. "You were shot." Diedre said quietly. "But I managed to remove the bullet and bandage you nicely. It didn't enter at a good enough angle to doo much damage, and you should still have use of your arm, but don't over-do it, okay?" Caryas winced as he felt a sharp pain in his back, which then receded to a dull, throbbing ache. Bruce looked at the slightly bloody bandage on Caryas' back, then smiled. "Don't get yerself shot again, mate. Yer heavy as a bag o' wet wool." Caryas laughed grimly. "Yeah. I bet I am." Terrence frowned slightly. "We shove off in the morning for Shorewald. So I suggest you get some sleep." He nodded to them as he moved to the door. "Good night." He exited. Bruce and Caryas both looked to each other, then Diedre. "I'm wanted for entirely different reasons than being involved with you all." She said. "So I'm gonna kip down here as well." She situated herself against a satchel of what seemed to ironically be wool. Bruce leaned against a crate and smiled as he closed his eyes. Caryas blinked a bit, then leaned back against something soft. He saw it to be Bruces' overcoat, wadded up and placed behind his back. He smiled, leaned back, and reached over to twist the knob on the oil lamp, dimming it to a dull light, perfect for drifting off to sleep.
    He slowly began to fall asleep, and his last thoughts before entering dreamland were ones of happiness, and hope for the future. But as he slipped off, a single image implanted itself in his dreams, completely of its own accord. A rainy evening, the dull gray skies after sunset. A wet wooden scaffolding set in the center of a town square. A figure hanging limply from a noose. He could see the figure's face now as it rotated. The face was his own, his fur matted to his forehead and his eyes cold and dead. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. And behind him, he saw a shadowy figure. The man held in one hand a noose, and the other a model of a ship. The ship fell from his hands, and he laughed as he tightened the noose.
    Caryas awoke with a gasp. He hadn't been asleep for even an hour. The lamp had gone out, and Bruce's snores mingled with the silence from Diedre. He settled down a bit. He hadn't seen the mans face, but he had a feeling he knew what the mans identity was. And the mans intentions. He settled back into a dreamless uneasy sleep, in rhythm with the waves. The tide rose, and fell as they slept.