<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/zcXD5to.jpg)</div>Dinner was served right after the entertainment: for the enlisted crew, a handful of weevil-laden hardtack and a lump of salted mystery meat,<br/>washed down with a ration of throat-burning grog. Despite the unappetizing nature of the food, there was still a rush for it, most of the sailors hungry after a hard day's work. Presumably the officers dined on other fare, as they retreated to their cabins.<br/><br/>So it was that Kali escaped scrutiny as she moved the unconscious trio belowdecks. She was unexpectedly helped by one of the newly impressed crew from earlier, the redhead human, and with two of them the task of moving three whole people was greatly simplified. She wore a tricorne hat, and every visible square inch of skin on her arms - of which there were not a few, given the rather provocative manner in which she dressed - was covered in tattoos.<br/><br/>"Sandara Quinn. Quite a mess they've got themselves in, ain't it?" she quipped once the last of three had been set down in the hold. It was getting dark and belowdecks it was even more difficult to see. "<em>Light</em>," she murmured while reaching up, and a plank of wood overhead glowed, providing enough illumination for them to work by. Sandara rolled the unconscious victims onto their stomachs and inspected their wounds. "Bloody and painful, but superficial," she finally declared with relief. "This should help them." She laid her hands upon their lash welts and muttered a long incomprehensible chant under her breath. Soft blue light glowed over her hands and their injuries for a moment, than subsided, leaving mended flesh behind.<br/><br/>Having finished her task Sandara sat back against the mainmast and fished out a small clay pipe. She lit it without visible flint or steel, merely a snap of her fingers, and took a satisfied puff of acrid smoke. At last, Jarod and Athoros began to stir. The redhead nodded in their direction as she struck up small talk with Kali. "So, friends of yours?"