The Secondary Saga

[Roger Smith]

Group 4

Perhaps due to his less than savory experiences with the type of people who had called themselves "doctor's" in Crow's homeworld, the good captain had less than a fond opinion of them. But he had a much less fond opinion of leaving bleeding wounds untreated, and his own medical experience was severely lacking. And so he let the doc patch up the wound in his head, grumbling something or other about a picaroon. In short enough order, the flow of blood had been stemmed, and while Crow's head -- and his everything else, for that matter -- still hurt just as bad, at least they wouldn't get any worse.

Hopefully.

Grasping for his saber, the unsteady captain regained his feet, pushing himself up to stand.

"Right, then...If no one has any objections, I'm not opposed to takin' the good doctor's suggestion and seein' if I can't get us all outta here in more or less one piece." One hand went to the sparse growth of beard on his chin, and a faint grin crossed his lips. "I won't lie, I'd take the open sea any day...but this ain't the first time I've got meself lost in some godforsaken hole like this..."

Looking from one of his allies for the moment to the other, Crow slowly nodded, seeing no immediate objections. The good colonel Templar voiced an important question, to which Crow responded in kind, "Can't speak much fer the long run, lad, but I think we'll all manage for the moment."

With a practiced motion, the good captain returned his saber to its sheath at his hip, turning about to finally take a good look at where they'd ended up. "Place looks like it could start fallin' apart again with another good shake...so what say we try and keep things steady and quiet as we can. I don't fancy dancin' the hempen jig just yet."

"First things first, though..." He turned his gaze to Grave. "No rope to be found 'round here, lad. Many apologies. Here's hopin' ye'll be able to make do without." Strolling along as steadily as he could, he wrestled the torch from its sconce, and turned his eyes to IRIS. "Said yer name was IRIS, aye? Think ye can manage to carry this, give us a bit o' light from a touch more elevation?"

"I believe I can manage that." The floating mechanical gizmo revealed a pair of small arms, and with surprising dexterity grasped the torch and took it from Crow's outstretched hand.

"Aye, good, good..." Crow let a genuine smile curl at one corner of his mouth, before he turned back about. "Right, then, buckoes, best be off. Sittin' around here all the day won't do much aside from get us nowhere fast." He indicated Grave and his companion with one arm. "Reckon it'd be best if ye stayed in the center of our little travelin' company for the moment. No sense lettin' yeh go in front and walk into a trap ye won't be able to get out of with yer..." He paused for a moment, as if to find the word. "...yer incapacitated little passenger, there."

"Good mister Templar. A military man, aye?"

Jan merely nodded in affirmation. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Eyes aft, mate, yer on job to make sure nothin' gets us unawares from behind."

"....understood." Crow could almost swear there was disappointment in Jan's eyes, but there was no sense letting him run into anything this temple might have waiting first and risk further damage from that blasted arrow wound in his back.

"And yerself, dear doctor..." Crow turned an appraising eye on Richtoffen, earning a level stare in return. "...I'll trust ye to make the wisest course for yerself. Ye seem capable enough in that regard."

"Alright, then, lads and lass, let's get a move on. Keep yer deadlights open, and yer ears on high alert."