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Although the sea was choppy and the vessel creaked like an old widower's bones, the two old friends passed a bottle of rum between each other in the dim candlelight of Owyn's quarters. 

A stately room, it's decorations sparse and the floor oddly tidy [color=606060]"Owyn,"[/color] the sellsword knocked back a gulp of rum, passing it to his friend [color=606060]"Wh-who the fucksh tha pompous lady on board any-anyhowsh?"[/color] they were a couple of hours in to drinking and Valen was getting lush from the rum. [color=606060]"An tha feller who seems to havesh a shtick up his arse, why have bloody nobles on board?"[/color] Valen coughed into his fist, attempting to shake of his drunkeness.