Unfortunately, the night which was now darkening beyond the
remotest point of intelligibility was also, weatherwise, a
worsening night. A storm blew up that night, a storm of beserker
fury, and the voyage which started thus badly grew no better as it
proceeded. Thus began a wild voyage which eventually ended when
the voyagers had to beach their much-leaking ship upon a
nondescript green pancake liberally sprinkled with stone cottages
and sheep fanks. This was the island of Ema-Urk, where Guest
Gulkan and Rolf Thelemite promptly wrote themselves a place in
local history by killing a sheep, which roused the ire of the
locals to a homicidal pitch.
        As the wizards Sken-Pitilkin and Zozimus tried to soothe the
tempers of the locals, with some help from the dralkosh Zelafona -
who contributed some of her bangles and baubles to the soothing -
Thodric Jarl cursed and kicked his ship.
        "You bought this ship at Ink, I suppose?" said Guest.
        "I did," said Jarl.
        His ship was a hulk of a fishing boat which he had indeed
purchased at Ink, a village which made a lively profit by selling
its worn-out vessels to unwary strangers. On close inspection,
Jarl was inclined to think it a very miracle that this particular
hulk had dragged itself as far as Ema-Urk before succumbing to a
long-overdue and entirely natural death.
        "You were sold this boat by Umbilskimp, I suppose," said
Guest, who still remembered that salesman, and had not repented of
his determination to hang the man.
        "Umbilskimp?" said Jarl. "Who's he?"
        Guest explained.
        "Why," said Jarl, when he had heard the explanation out.
"That's very interesting. But, no, it was a man by name of Mung
who sold me this particular boat."
        Then the Weaponmaster Guest Gulkan and the Rovac warrior
Thodric Jarl pacted with each other, swearing that if the village
of Ink were to fall to their power then they would make it their
business to see both Umbilskimp and Mung hung high, for both were
murderers without a doubt.
        Then Jarl proceeded with an inspection of his hulk.
        By the time the wizards and the witch had bargained a peace
for the shipwrecked travelers, Jarl had concluded - and nobody
saw fit to disagree - that there was not one chance on this side
of hell of their prodigiously rotten and storm-weakened ship
getting them even half as far as the horizon.
        "Which means," said Jarl, "that we're not going any further
in this rotten hulk."
        Which left them with very few palatable choices, for it was
almost certain that Governor Sod would be in pursuit of them, and
it was almost equally certain that Sod would not be gentle in his
handling of them if and when he finally caught up with them.