Decisions, Decisions...

SPACE Tharg and Conner stand and move away from their grisly victory celebration. The headless corpses, gore splattered stumps protruding from their sprawled out torsos, are left to rot in the sand. The heads, trophies of war, are held high for all to see. Tharg even tries to offer them to Alliandra.
SPACE Her repulsion apparent, the pious woman refuses. She keeps her speech on morality to herself. She understands that years of cultural upbringing cannot be reversed by an afternoon of condescending lectures.

SPACE Conner, not overly upset at Alliandra’s lack of enthusiasm, begins pushing and pulling at a large tree, which he now asks Tharg’s help in uprooting. He sticks his own sword into the sand and picks up a shortsword from one of the dead pirates. Swinging the new weapon for good measure, he then proceeds to hack at the tree.
SPACE “Make boat,” he grunts as he swings. The tree comes loose and topples onto its sandy topsoil with cracking and splintering protests. To the others, he says, “We get tree and swim to little land.”
SPACE “You mean to follow?” Grant asks surprised. His obvious discomfort with the thought causes others to chime in their protests.
SPACE “We should get a more sea-worthy craft,” Alasdair says as he rifles through the dead men’s pockets.
SPACE “Especially if we’re to do battle from it,” Meggana nods matter-of-factly, gathering up missed arrows beside Cyrdan.
SPACE Alliandra agrees as well. “We should go back into Deepbush and explain our barbaric friends’ actions against the guardsmen, lest we become outlawed here.” She runs her fingers through her hair as she looks off into the fog where Cain and Simon disappeared. “I’m sure there is a boatmaker somewhere in a village so close to the sea.” She looks to Meggana for affirmation.
SPACE “Yes,” she giggles. “Deepbush has several. And they’re called shipwrights, not boatmakers.”

SPACE Alliandra blushes slightly and offers that she was not raised near the sea. Grant humphs at Meggana’s comment, though it was in no way meant to be rude.

SPACE “We could get a small boat and catch them on Baragona,” Meggana adds. When the group looks to her at the word ‘Baragona,’ she points to the chunk of rock pointing out of the sea where Cain and Simon headed. “There’s nothing else out there but Baragona. They must be headed there.”
SPACE “Anywho, like she says, we can buy a boat and follow them,” Alliandra says to Tharg. Conner fells another tree trunk, sending sand flying in all directions as it lands.
SPACE “Well, actually,” the elven warrior corrects the priest again, “we’ll have to rent, borrow, or steal it. I don’t imagine any of us have enough coin to purchase a sea-worthy boat from Deepbush.”
SPACE “What’s on Baragona?” Cyrdan asks. Silent until now, he has been pondering the optimal course of action.
SPACE “Nothing much,” Meggana answers, though she doesn’t seem to know much about the island except its name. “Some hot springs, a temple, and lots of monkeys.”
SPACE “A temple?” Alliandra is intrigued. “What sort of temple?”
SPACE The look on Meggana’s face makes her nose wrinkle a bit and she shifts her weight from side to side as she thinks. “It’s called Baragon and they either named the temple for the island or the island for the temple. I’m not sure which.” She remains silent for a moment longer, biting her lip a bit. “In any case, if I remember right, it’s been abandoned for a long time.”
SPACE “Probably in ruins,” Alasdair ventures a guess.

SPACE Cyrdan, remaining silent still, nods his head and walks toward the surf. He crouches there, looking to the island through the fog, and sifting sand through his fingers.

SPACE “What about the guards? We can’t just go back into Deepbush to get a boat without fessing up to what the boys done.” Alasdair’s point, however poignant, rings of truth.
SPACE “Aye,” the dwarf agrees. “There’ll be hell to pay for knocking them two corporals out.”
SPACE “Any suggestions?”

SPACE The group is silent as they each weigh the possibilities. The waves roll gently onto the sand, washing clean the blood of the headless bodies that litter its beach.
SPACE Meggana picks up the last of her recoverable arrows. Her raven hair falls and grazes the sand as she bends over in retrieval of each shaft.
SPACE Tharg and Conner sit drawing pictures in the sand, oblivious to the fact that they caused the whole of the situation that keeps the group from entering and leaving Deepbush free and without worry. They appear to be impatient with waiting around, Conner kicking the tree he felled earlier and Tharg pacing about nervously like some watchdog waiting to attack.
SPACE Grant stands with his back against a tree. He stares at the sea and flips his hand axe over and over again in his hand, flexing his wrist and forearm. Months of strenuous labor aboard Salty Death have made his muscles so tight, his skin is literally stretched around them.
SPACE Alliandra, sitting in the surf, sandals off, stares off into the distance. The sun has just begun its slow descent into the blue-green horizon. She runs her fingers through her hair again and sighs.
SPACE Alasdair dons the leather bracers he found on one of the dead men. He watches Cyrdan intently and stands facing the sea.

SPACE Cyrdan remains crouched in the surf, sifting sand through his fingers. He picks up handful after handful of the stuff, shaking it in his palm and watching it run out of his hand and into the water’s edge. He straightens, finally, throwing his last handful of grains into the air and walks to the middle of the group.
SPACE “We have to do something soon,” he says.
SPACE “Some of us could stay here and keep watch,” Alasdair suggests, “in case those two come back to shore. Someone could go back to town to let the guards know what happened here and to tell them the pirates are probably hiding on that island.”
SPACE “Bah,” Grant disapproves. “The guard’ll not allow you to knock out some of their own and steal their weapons and then come skipping back into town, return their things, and apologize; ‘tra-la-la, we saw your pirates take off to that island over there.’ ” He shakes his head as if he were shaking himself free of the idea.
SPACE Alasdair is still intent. “Maybe Cyrdan and I can return. Cyrdan is already known and I’d still like to give those guards back their daggers, if only to save our hides.”
SPACE “I’m afraid Grant’s right,” Meggana stresses. “Portsmouth’s guardsmen are not known for their understanding nor their compassion.”
SPACE “I agree with Alasdair in that we should split,” Cyrdan says. “The guards from Deepbush will be coming around soon and organizing a search party. No doubt they will find our direction and pursue.”
SPACE “Aye,” Grant resigns, “that they will.”
SPACE “We could always make the hike to Hok Liggle,” Meggana offers.
SPACE Cyrdan disapproves. “We shouldn’t go into any towns for a couple of days just in case news of our actions travels to any other areas,” Cyrdan finishes.
SPACE “Then how will we get a boat?” Meggana asks.

SPACE Silence again from the group.

SPACE “We have to go back to town one way or another,” Alasdair says. “If we had a boat, we could go after Cain and Simon. Whether we want to apologize to the guardsmen or not, we’ll have to return and get a boat.”

SPACE “Well,” Meggana smiles, “if you're going after them, I'm willing to join.” She cocks her head and bites her lip momentarily before going on. “Hell, even if you aren't, I'll come along with you; it seems you are quite an exciting bunch. I haven’t traveled with company for a while.”
SPACE “You’re more than welcome, Meggana,” Alliandra replies. “Though I must tell you that even we have no idea what we’ll do or where we’ll go next.”
SPACE Alasdair agrees with a nod and adds, “We started out as survivors of a shipwreck. This little trek to Borgana is a personal vendetta for most of us. I don’t know what you could possibly gain by coming.”
SPACE “I want to help,” Meggana answers.
SPACE Speechless nods approve.

SPACE “So, we’re agreed that we go after them then?” Alliandra asks.
SPACE “We bash pirates!” Tharg yells. Conner nods his head violently in agreement.
SPACE “I’m all for that, though they might have more men waiting for us when we arrive,” Alasdair reasons. "Although..." he seems to drift off into thought momentarily. “Cain and five more fellows...Hmm,” Alasdair ponders. “Garn and I found five sets of footsteps near that cave on the beach. Maybe there are no more survivors from the Salty Death.”
SPACE “Aye,” Grant agrees, then counters, “but we shouldn’t count on that. I say we wait until night, steal us a boat, and storm the island under cover of darkness.” The dwarf is obviously hell-bent on vengeance, the ‘who-cares-about-the-how’ attitude glaring each of the other in the face.
SPACE “Dark is good,” Conner adds. “We hide in dark and surprise elfie and pirate. Then we bash.”
SPACE “But we can’t steal from Deepbush!” Alliandra cries.

SPACE The group ponders its decision.