"Helmutsport."

"Why am I in Helmutsport?" Gideon looks glumly at the port. Turning to the captain of the ship. "Helmutsport?"

The Captain looks at him and shrugs, "Turns out that we didn't need to make a port call in Lydius." He turns his back and looks over some papers.

Gideon's face turns a dark shade of red. Anger like he has never known floods him. His fists clench, hands going to his axe. Before he can draw it, he takes a heavy blow to the back of the head. His eyes grow black, and he sinks slowly to his knees before he lands on the deck.

Darkness, a throbbing in his skull. Hands lift him by his wrists and ankles. A dropping sensation. Falling. A hard thud to the rough wooden dock. He lies there. Slowly regaining consciousness. His eyes open. Blurred images around. Focusing. Squinting. He hears laughter.

The crew is on deck laughing, throwing rotten fruit at him. He painfully rises to his knees, and then to his feet. "Welcome to Helmutsport," the captain laughs "Consider your voyage payed."

Gideon turns and walks away. He curses under his breath. He had agreed to serve aboard the vessel from Port Kar, to Lydius. The ship skipped Lydius. Once an officer aboard ship, Gideon was treated like a slave. Beaten and abused, he held his temper, because it was his best chance home.

"Now what..." He thinks aloud. He heads to a tavern, where he hears tales of storms and piracy off the coast. He gathers what little belongings he has, and sets out south, through the Northern Forrest.