Sons of the Oak (2011)
“ —a saying of Rhofehavan Stalker took the captain’s chair at the inn. It was a sloppy dive called the Merry Jig, one that he remembered well. It was famous for featuring sour ale to go with its overcooked fowl, all served by wenches so ugly that they threatened to give womanhood in general a bad name. But the inn did have one redeeming feature: it had kept musicians playing nightly now for over a hundred years.
Once a lively place, it had apparently fallen on hard times. The serving wenc...hes were gone, replaced by a couple of lads with greasy hair and bad teeth. The other ships lying in the harbor apparently didn’t have crew ashore, for the establishment was empty of all but the most hardened of customers—a pair of the drunkards.
“Let’s have some ale, and some of your lousy bird for dinner!” Stalker shouted as soon as he took his seat, waving his hand in general so that the lads would know that he was buying for the whole crew. He waited sullenly.
His men were coming ashore in waves, a dozen at a time rowing across in the ship’s boats.MoreLess
Once a lively place, it had apparently fallen on hard times. The serving wenc...hes were gone, replaced by a couple of lads with greasy hair and bad teeth. The other ships lying in the harbor apparently didn’t have crew ashore, for the establishment was empty of all but the most hardened of customers—a pair of the drunkards.
“Let’s have some ale, and some of your lousy bird for dinner!” Stalker shouted as soon as he took his seat, waving his hand in general so that the lads would know that he was buying for the whole crew. He waited sullenly.
His men were coming ashore in waves, a dozen at a time rowing across in the ship’s boats.MoreLess
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