<div class="floatleft">(http://img850.imageshack.us/img850/5313/huntericonl.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>---Barok Arvidsson---</strong></span>(http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=383337)<br/><hr/><br/><strong>"Bah!"</strong>Barok shouted, hefting his supplies over one shoulder and the bloodied axe over the other.<strong>"We've been made big damn fools of s'what happened, little girl!  Imagine, <em>me</em>, succumbin' to a bit o' drink all on me own!  Poison coaxed us ta this fate!"</strong><br/><br/>He spat in the sand, wandering over to the other survivors and giving them a good once-over.<strong>"Hrnm.  None o' the crew be here.  So they either be so much chum or the ones what did this, aye?  But iffin' they just wanted ta rob us, they coulda juss done so, slit 'r throats 'n toss us into the brine.  Ain't naw sense in any of this."</strong><br/><br/>Barok started nudging the lot of them, giving the prisoner a somewhat harder kick to the rump as he did so.<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>"Oi, git up ye sad sacks!  Ain't naw time fer dozin'!"</strong></span>