He still didn't have to be at the tavern until mid-afternoon tomorrow. He had plans for today. He threw on some breeches, a shirt and tunic and headed out the door. It's time to pay Yerril a visit and tell him what I have in mind. He walked out the door with a shovel in hand and runes aplenty in his head. He had asked Kevesk about as many as he could once he had filled his stomach a bit. "The Pribe" was still in port, that much he knew. It wasn't going anywhere fast, stuck as it was, with a hole in its bottom. But then again, maybe it was stuck with a patch over its hole. Either way, since Yerril didn't have another ship, or a homeport other than this, he was likely to be around. Derrl figured that if he checked enough waterfront taverns, he would find the gap-toothed captain eventually. He was almost to the docks before he started paying attention again. He stopped for a moment, deciding which way to go, when he looked up the waterfront street and saw a hanging sign with a painted tankard on it. He decided to go look in there for the captain of the Pribe. The alehouse was rather dark, even though the sun was shining away outside. Most of the occupants squinted and averted their eyes as the open door let a shaft of brilliant light into the gloomy room. The air was filled with a haze of smoke that stung the eyes. He walked over to the barkeep, stepping over the prone form of a sailor who had passed out and fallen of the bench. No one had thought to move him. He stepped up to the counter and leaned on it. He regretted it after seeing the man next to him vomit onto it and hearing the barkeep's response
"… ass threw up three times onto the bar today." He looked up at the mageling leaning onto the reeking counter. "Any thing I can be doing for you ser?"
Derrl glanced sideways at the retching customer, who thankfully was now puking onto the straw-covered floor.
"Uh… yes," he said, still looking at the poor sop. " I'm looking for Yerril, the captain of the Pribe. Do you know where I would be able to find him?" He formed a rune in his mind and brushed his finger against the man beside him after a renewed fit of vomiting. The fellow stood up somewhat shakily and walked outside to stick his head in a rain barrel.
"You wouldn't be finding the likes of him in a place like this, ser. He wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this. He likes his taverns properlike, not like this place here, ser. He don't particularly care how much the ale costs so long as he has good company." He absently wiped the countertop with a grimy rag and tossed it into a bucket in the corner behind the bar. "If you really want to find him, he'll be at the Pint. He likes the sun more than most of this lot. It's a shame he lost the Pribe. She was good to him." He picked up a slightly less rancid cloth and began wiping the inside of a tankard with it.
"Thanks." Derrl looked at the room once more. Someone coughed in a dark corner and then again. He shook his head and walked out the door, causing cries of anguish as the light shone in the clientele's eyes. It looked like he was going to be going in to work today after all.