not be taken away because of one attack."

There is a moment's pause, "However, I am sure I could put a good word in if you wish to be hired. You would have to talk with Mayor Reinland, but arrangements could be made."

Drallic paused, again, attempting to hide any small ire he had left in him. "Bah. We'd not last a damn week from the cultist if we kept it; knew that th' moment we saw it." He slowly walked over and, finding the object having no worth left to him, hands it over to the captain. "Bastion's a fair nicer place, fer now." He looked out in the distance, wondering how long Argenta's repairs would take. The city's still susceptible to any potential storms. Hopefully it won't take long to come back.

He gave her offer some thought. He wasn't exactly excited to seek more jobs immediately after defying death several times in a row. However, as Drallic put it, "Well our ship's damaged, our last job's been done this mornin', we didn't get 'nough food fer our next trip; didn't even think o' a job, annnd our day off turned into this mess."

He looked back at his crew still on deck, including El'lans, his eidolon, Chucker, and Gellya. "Gonna need to talk this out," he told the captain, "but we'll consider yer offer, thanks."

He said his farewells to the captain, for once leaving with someone on amicable terms, as the minotaur walked over to his crew and gave a heavy sigh through his snout. "Don't think i got 'nough apologies an' explanations fer what I pulled... We all still in one piece?" It was days like today that he's happy to be alive.

"Somehow." El'lans says, as he watches the bunny captain step-hop across the gangplank back to her ship, "Having a literal horde of attackers, no matter who they are, attacking your ship, it's gonna deal some damage. But, with a few days work, she should be back up into the sky. Our artificer just needs some rest, and so does the crew." He gives you a conspiratorial look, or at least as much of one as he can give with his decayed face, "Maybe they can rest while we get started on the repairs."

The crew who are nearby as he says that do not stop what they are doing, but you can tell that they are tuned into the conversation.

"Aye, we got a lot to do," Drallic responded, looking around at the damage to the ship. All things considered, it could've been much worse. But a lot of it also could have been avoidable, were it not for Drallic's death-defying stunts. They were all fortunate that the cultists all went for him, specifically, as they otherwise could've sliced apart the very floorboards they stood on and sails they needed to move across the skies.

Drallic wasn't looking forward to the repairs. He was hurt, tired, sore, and in need of a rest like everyone else. But he got them into this, and he wouldn't be a good captain if he didn't set an example. So finally able to walk, not run, he walked his hooves over and grabbed several tools with his large hands, intent on fixing the deck before anything else. "We get th' wounded tended an' things jus' patched up 'nough that we can dock this safely. Once we're skybound again, we'll look fer some more work."

Besides the pounding of nails, clanking of repairs and wrapping of ropes, things felt very quiet now. For once, Drallic enjoyed the quietness of skyfaring life.

But if today showed anything, it's that nothing stayed quiet for long.