Imora guided her ship to the “dock” and took in the majesty of such a place. Taking an entire flotilla and turning it into an island refuge was a marvelous idea – though the immediate problems of steering and strong temperature currents refused to be ignored by her calculating mind – and the massive structure built up in the center was part of that marvel. A part of her felt a small bit of sadness. Each of the ships nailed to one another by walkways must long to feel the wind filling their sails, and the wake breaking upon their hulls. While she appreciated the ingenuity, she felt sorry for the galleys who gave up their freedom to make it possible. She had a strong suspicion that her feelings were being moderately influenced by her own ship and it’s uncharacteristicly sudden and rapid development of a persona.
After speaking to the lad at the docks, she proposed her opinions of each restaurant and listened as her crew responded without any commitment to one or the other. Well, she was Captain after all. Reaching into her belt pouch, she began to dole out funds to each of her crew in turn, and then motioned for Ranzwinkle to follow her as she headed to the tower. The poor dear’s been as good as a cast away for the last three years and deserved a meal prepared by the finest chefs in the world. She approached the rising platform, and allowed the gnome the honor of pushing the button. Imora was unable to contain the squeal of delight that burst from her lips as the platform began to rise. Oh yes, if there was time she was going to have to find a way of examining this marvelous device after dinner.
Reaching the restaurant, she paid the man the required sum for both herself and the gnome and performed a double turn to prove that she herself was unarmed. The men gestured to her Hypo-Injector with dubious glares and she gladly checked it at the door. If anyone needed the kind of healing and protection that little device could provide during dinner, she’d have a stern talk with the local authorities about health code violations. The rest of her devices all look like accessories, jewelry or otherwise non-threatening in nature (must’ve been the big needle), so passing through she found a table and then approached the windows to place an order for herself and the little gnome. Imora ordered the fried squid served with a kelp and onion soup, and inquired as to the freshness of their raw fish. Satisfied with the result, she orders several cuts of various fish and some rice cakes as well. Oh, and wine. There must be wine.
Settling in to her meal with Ranzwinkle, she waved over the others of her crew that decided to eat with her, as there was plenty of room at the table she selected. This. This is exactly what she needed. Tomorrow, her search for the rift, and her crew’s quest to do….whatever it is they decide to do would begin anew, and nothing would stop any of them.