The trip to port Mansfield took us another day of steady walking out across the plains. We passed the occasional fishing village, perched on the edge of the rivers which crisscrossed the area, on the winding path which led north. Dusk was slowly settling when we made our way up to the edge of the port itself.

     Port Mansfield was situated on the delta of one of the larger rivers which snaked its way out of the Brightstar Mountains. The port itself had evolved from a fishing village which had been settled quite a long time ago, even by dragon standards. Today Port Mansfield was a sprawling town stretched out over a dozen of the smaller islands which made up the river delta. Elegant bridges connected the smaller islands and floating wharves which made up the majority of the sprawling town's business. Ships from all over the Blood Isles used such free ports as places to stop and replenish supplies, and to trade. Most such ports had what little concentration of freeman that existed in the Isles. Such persons where part of no dragon clan, and could claim no protection. Most of such were the sailors which manned the ships.

     The Freeport itself had a sizable city guard, mostly dwarves, with an occasional elf. We had no trouble entering the port, since the guards were mostly concerned with collecting the tax the port took on everything which passed through its gates. Lord Sutton was covered with the Cloak of Masking, but still I took care to watch those around us. Despite what he said, I had been his fathers Kindred, and I knew better then most what dangers could await us in such ports.

     The first order of business was to find a ship headed to the All Clans Isle, which was accepting passengers. Such, was not as easy as it had once been. Few were headed to the All Clans Isle from our Cloudkill lands these days. It was fully dark by the time we arrived at the Drunken Sailor, an Inn I had once passed by and remembered seeing many sailors inside. It had seemed as good a place as any to begin our search, and Lord Sutton suggested we could perhaps spend the night there if nothing else. We had settled ourselves in a table near the rear of the smoke filled common room when our troubles began.

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     The two had begun eating the fish stew, a specialty of the entire port, when the first of the sailors had made his way over to there table. Eyeing Laureine he had made a few rude suggestions, accompanied to the raucous laughter of his friends. Apparently the entire ship's company had gotten leave and had decided to get drunk tonight. Before Jean could break his cover Laureine smiled and dumped her drink over the sailors head. There was stunned silence as the man sputtered, dripping ale, before the entire bar erupted into laughter. The sailor retreated to his table, tail between his legs, to the ribbing of his comrades.

     That, unfortunately, was not the end of it.

     The two elves had barely finished the stew when the sailor was back again, this time with three of his friends. Apparently his wounded ego would not allow a pair of travelers, who definitely looked the worse for the wear, to make him look bad. The fact that he and his friends were drunk didn't help at all.

     "You think you're too good for me?" The lead idiot was leaning over Laureine, trying to intimidate her with his size. None of them paid attention to her companion who seemed to have gone very still. Laureine sent him a swift glance, silently pleading with him to let her deal with this.

     "I think that a half dead mule is too good for you." With a sweet smile as she applied pressure to a certain point just above his wrist. With a surprised look on his face his arm was removed from the table, and he was forced to stumble back a few steps. "Go away before you get hurt." Was the older elf's suggestion before she turned back towards her food.

     The hood of her companion jerking towards the right was the only warning she needed, to tumble out of the way as a chair slammed down onto the chair where she was sitting. Her hand flew to the hilt of her long sword, even as she turned. Only to relax with a sigh as she regarded the sight infront of her.
Jean Sutton was standing, the hood of his cloak thrown back, negating its magic. In each hand he held two of the larger sailors up off the floor by thier necks. The sailors clawed at the hands clamped about thier necks, to which Jean appeared to pay no notice. The sailor who had tried to club her with the chair was staring up at him with a shocked look on his face as he scrambled backwards.

     "You dare to try to harm a Cloudkill?" So saying he tossed the two other sailors down onto the one who had tried to club Laureine. A low growl came from Jean, which she was sure was unconscious, as he stalked towards them.
"If I ever see you again, I will kill you. Do you understand?" Frantically the sailor, and his crewmates fled from the approaching elf with the silver eye and hair. With a sigh Laureine tossed a small pouch to the stunned bartender for the damage and the food, and stepped next to the elf. Gently she touched his shoulder and shook her head.

     "They weren't worth it, I could have taken care of it." The gaze she got in return was anything but sorry.

     "They're scum." That silver eye glanced about the bar, taking in the stunned silence and the considering stares that the two of them were getting.

     "And I think its time for us to go."

     Neither noticed the elf who had stood next to the door in the back, observing this entire scene, turn and slip out into the night.