[There's a faint clinking sound and a hiss; the camera pans up and around, then back down the dirt, where a hand is curling against the pebbled beach.] Aye, Adjunct, I told you thirteen was bad. Hood's breath-- [That voice is a soft and raspy murmur -- definitely a little drunk, and maybe a little fond, irritated and sad, in equal measures. The view lifts upward once more, at the foreign scattering of stars above.]

Ah.  Not your realm at all, is it, you hoary old bastard? Not that I suppose it's even yours anymore.

Life's full of surprises, ain't it just?

[A snort; gallows humor, even if there's no one else around to appreciate the joke. There's a raspy scratching sound -- this fellow, scratching his head as he looks around, all that reaching around the likely cause of this accidental message in the first place. The view changes once more, a moment of nothing but steady breathing as he shifts, the camera now framing a bundle of wrapped oil-cloth, which he opens with care, revealing the disassembled pieces of a heavy assault crossbow. A trained eye might spot a few differences: mainly, a strange sort of bowl where a bolt should be expected to rest. Those hands assemble the weapon quickly and smoothly, well within a minute -- it's fairly obvious that this is a fellow who knows exactly what he's doing.

The camera lurches as he stands up, and the man cocks the crossbow in a smooth motion.]

This your warr -- your hold?  Sure doesn't feel empty, but neither does a lot of things that are, Hedge's ugly head, for instance. You might be old, sure, but the Master of the Deck owes me a favor or three, Errant, and your chances are as bad as your timing.

Maybe I'll go have a look, see if I can't find myself a comfortable spot to watch -- from a distance, of course. He's got a bit of a temper, does the Captain.

[There's another off-screen rustle, and then his hand slides into view, carefully setting a small clay ball into the crossbow's bowl.]

If I don't find you myself, that is. [Another snort, indelicate as it is.] Maybe things are different in Lether -- but from where I come from, it's never smart to throw down with us.

You gods, you always lose.