Turthôl sat in his cabin, feeling horrible. He had drank too much of that ale and now he was feeling it. Feeling his stomach churn, he bolted for the deck.
"I told you, too much ale," said Rangar from behind him. Turthôl was too busy to answer. He had never been on a ship, and this was turning out to be a bad first experience.
"Is someone not used to the sea?" said a teasing voice behind him. He didn't even need to turn. It was Wren. He sensed that since he was incapable of responding (his mouth was full at the moment), she would take advantage of the situation.
He knew that he would have to excercise his patience while he barfed as Wren got her two cents in.
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In nomini domine saboath sui filique ite ad infernos.
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