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[Warwycke]

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“Oy, we’s gotta get dis lil’ piss bag back ta da Moongate, ‘urry up ya scurvy swine.” A low voice growled as the two skulked through the alleyways of Britain. The child in their midst had a sense of their anxiety and continued to cry behind a grimy hand.

“Quiet tha’ lil’ sheite, or we’s gunna get caught.” The voice said once more darkly, as they neared the way behind the west Britain bank. Backs pressed against the stone structure the odd couple waited as a small patrolling unit of Britain guards strolled by them in the light. Hooves clinked against the paving stones, the guards oblivious to the crime that they were so close to preventing.

Fat raindrops began to patter down on the men and babe, as they made their way to west bridge of Britain. The road was quiet save for the sound of rain pounding against the hard packed road they traveled. “Marcellus, ‘ere’s’it zactly we’s tak’n da wee liddle baby?” The shorter man asked with the bundle in his arms.

“ ‘Ell Wallace, if ya’d shut yer arse up and ‘urry da abyss up, we’s uld been dar already.” The tall skinny man known as Marcellus said with a tinge of frustration in his voice. “Ya knows ya ain’t gotta be so mean.” Replied Wallace, as he scurried about, trying to match pace with his tall lanky counterpart. They veered from the Britain road into the woods, and soon they were awash in the blue glow of the Moongate. Their shadows danced gracefully around them as the men hesitantly entered the brilliant sapphire portal.

Time and space seemed to move at a rapid pace as the men stepped through, and in an instant they were in the Minoc countryside. The storm in Britain hadn’t seemed to have much effect where they now were. Steadily Marcellus led them northwest. “Oy, ‘ow long til we’s there Marc?” Wallace whined loudly.

“Gar, I’ms gunna gutcha and leave ya fer da bears if ya dun shut da abyss up an’ walk yer fat arse a little faster.” The tall man leading the way growled back to the shorter man with the baby. Warwycke laughed a bit for the first time through the whole ordeal. “Ya’d likes ta see dat wuldncha, ya pissing tyrant.” Wallace said with a slight smile. “‘El Marc, I’s fink da sheite woulds make a good pillage mate.”

“Would ya just shut da piss up an’ keep up? We’s almost thur Wallace, an’ I’ms ‘bout tired uv’ere’n yer voice!” Marcellus said with a sigh. A wind from the direction they were headed in carried a faint smell of salt and Wallace’s nostrils flared slightly, “Oy, I’s know dat smell, ya be take’n us back ta da Salty Clam.” Marcellus only looked back with a smug smile and a slight wink. In that moment Wallace gained a second wind and passed Marcellus, stopped short with a firm backhand across his face. “Gar, ya arse, ya dun even knows where da ship is! I swears I’d oughta gutcha hure.” Marcellus growled to Wallace.

Wallace rubbed his face with his free hand, and harrumphed when Warwycke started giggling again. “I’ll eat yer legs if ya keep that sheite up ya wee farking baby!” He snapped his teeth angrily. It was nearing midnight when they arrived at a large wooden ship, with the figurehead of a man holding a cutlass above his head, was before them. The ship swayed slightly in the water as the wind blew against its masts. “’Ey, we’s got da package, lower da gang, it be Marc an’ Ole Wally!” Marcellus bellowed, lightning flashed in the night’s sky and a clap of thunder soon followed.

With a loud thud the gangplank crashed against the shore in front of the small group. The soles of Marcellus and Wallace’s feet pitter-pattered up the hard plank onto the deck. When they got on deck, there stood a tall dark skinned, bald headed man glaring at them. He had fierce blue eyes that made even Marcellus cower down. “Uhm… ‘ers da Cappy at Lionel?” Marcellus and Wallace asked in a quiet unison. At that moment the rain that was in Britain started beating down against the deck.

“We sail without him, Cap’n Richey’s orders himself.” The dark man said his voice rich with confidence. “Yar, ya didn’t maroon em whiles we was gone did ya?” Marcellus asked with a sly chuckle. Lionel stared angrily at him, and in a flash Marcellus’ head flopped against the deck. Before the body could hit the ground Lionel kicked it overboard, and with a cruel smile he asked Wallace, “Any more questions?”

Wallace swallowed nervously, and only mustered out, “Nay, sur.” Lionel, walked towards the wheel and pulled down on a rope three times, and thrice did a bell ring. “All hands on deck, man the sails, and raise the anchor! We got a storm to beat boys! Come on, snap too it or you’ll all be sleeping with Ole Marcs tonight!” Lionel bellowed above the howling wind.

Soon bare feet scampered across the deck, tending quickly to the jobs called out by the first mate. The ship would sail this night with no captain, by Captain’s orders. Soon they were heading out to the sea, they had to make it out of the Bay of Hopelessness first...