|DM - Voice of the Voiceless|
The ship's put back to sail and you begin to put the rocky shallows behind you. Those in the rigging are on close alert for any more sign of scaly devils in your wake... but after a few quiet hours with naught but wind and wave your company even they begin to relax back into the voyage. Talk among the crew turns from memories of blood to the chance to get back to port and hock their hunk of silver for whatever poison's their preference - mainly of the two-legged or cask-borne variety, though there's a particularly lean snaggle toothed gent who spends a good couple of hours expounding upon exactly what sort of cake and sweetbreads he'll gorge on once they make port.
Looking at the heading of the boat, you'd wager that a fairly direct path's being cut t'wards the haven of Freeport... haven that is, if you're looking for a festering well of piracy and vice. The Captain and Hinsin don't emerge from their chambers for the rest of the day - and the fall of darkness brings the ship still a sail, though with relatively calm wind and flat seas.