The great hall doors opened before Gerrick under the impulse of a house servant. What had been a warm, still interior alive with the sound of his family's slowly-relaxing conversation became the boom of thunder, the flash of lightning, the roar of rain and autumn wind. Gerrick strode out into it is if it were a sunny day.

"Holy bollocks!" Fearghas huddled down, hugging himself, spitting rain out of his face.

"It's just water, lad! Buck up!" Gerrick scanned the courtyard quickly.

Ansley stepped up next to him. "It is a wee stormy oot, love."

Gerrick grinned at her, knowingly. "Ye dinnae mind that last May."

Ansley gave him a playful rapproachful look.

Fearghas tried to huddle into the meager rain-shadow cast by Jonas. "I guess you don't care either."

Jonas smiled just a little and tapped the side of his head. "you're making it up for me."

Fearghas cringed.

But, Gerrick observed, his moments of cringing weren't over. Out of the shadow of a nearby oak stepped a tall, broad-shouldered, wiry man of 17 years, shirtless, clad in sandals, ratty short-pants held up by a rope belt, and a necklace with a gold pendant. His jaundiced skin shone pale yellow gray in the flashing lightning. Covering his bald head, sallow, thin face, and gaunt-ribbed torso was a pattern of spiderweb-scars.

"Holy--"

Ansley stopped him. "Doon't. Comment."

Fearghas nodded.

Gerrick glanced at the pendant to make sure it still glowed just so--That little bauble was what kept Spider from being contagious and dooming them all. Once that was tended to, he approached, offering his hand angled up. Spider grinned a bloody smile and clasped hands. Gerrick pulled him into a hug, feeling his wet, bony, feverish body shiver and shudder just a little.

"Mate."

Gerrick pulled back, smiling. "How ye been, mate?"

Spider coughed into a soaking wet towel, a harsh, wracking cough that Gerrick had to intentionally not react to. The Spider-Web Plague, the source of Spider's nickname, was taking its toll.

Spider shrugged. "Oh," His voice was deep, hoarse, "Ye know." He offered his hand to Ansley, and they repeated the Troublemaker's handshake and hug ritual. "Good to see you, girlie. He treatin' you right?"

She chuckled. "Eh, I've almoost got 'im trained."

He rubbed the top of her head, then looked to Jonas. "What about you, soldier? You gettin' any?"

Jonas shrugged. "I'm like a kid in a candy store in this family. But not the way you meant."

"What aboot ye, mate?" Gerrick slapped him on the shoulder. The open touches and the embraces were intentional--because of Spider's answer:

Spider huffed. "You think any woman's gonna even look at me from a distance with this shyte?" he gestured to the spiderweb marks. "Thank the gods I got my misspent youth out of the way young, godsdammit." He inclined his head to Fearghas. "Who's the greenie?"

Gerrick moved to introduce Fearghas, but he saw Fearghas visibly suck up his courage. Fearghas tensely extended a shaking hand. "Fearghas O'Toole."

Ansley and Jonas both looked to Gerrick in wide-eyed, impressed surprise. Gerrick nodded appreciatively.

Spider grinned big, showing bloody teeth. "Well I'll be damned. Jacob Cartwright. My friends call me Spider." He took the hand and shook it. "You're alright, O'Toole."

Fearghas smiled as tensely as Gerrick had ever seen any man smile. "Thanks."

Spider began to pace. "I know I interrupted dinner, so I'll make it quick. I've been on a Falcon ship for the last month, and they're buggin' out. Captain Asher says there's a fleet of black ships headed right this way."

Gerrick squinted. "Black ships."

"Aye." Spider looked at Gerrrick gravely, sitting down on a stone mushroom statue. "Now we don't know what they are, but they're fast, and if they're hostile, we're all in a kettle. They may not be, but I don't wanna--" He coughed again, a pitiful, wracking sound that tore at Gerrick's heart. Spider sniffed. "I don't wanna take any chances."

Gerrick began to pace. "I agree wi' that."

"You gotta warn your da, mate. They're coming. If you guys are gonna survive this, you gotta beef up or bug out."

Gerrick nodded. "Alright. Come in wi' me, an' ye can tell 'im what ye--"

Spider shook his head. "I can't go in there, mate."

"Why not? I'll be voochin' fer ye. They knlow who ye are, and they know--"

"Gerrick, no! Come on, I can't just..." Spider threw up his hands, standing up again. "Don't do this to me, Gerrick!"

"Ye're under my protection!" Gerrick's anger burst forth in his voice. "If any a' them dare insult one a my friends, in my home--"

"Look at me, Gerrick!" Spider's bloodshot eyes went wide with fear and anger. "I can't take it! They'll...they'll look at me, and gasp, and..." He shook his head.

And there was the true pain of Spider's existance: the shame, the ostracism, the fact that everywhere he went, there were people gladly consenting to his death, because it should be a mercy. It was a fate Gerrick would not have wished on anyone.

Gerrick put a hand on Spider's shoulder. "Ye're the only one who heard what ye heard, mate. Fer ma family, please. Da needs tae hear it from the man who knows."

Spider sighed. "Look, Gerrick, I came here to do you a favor. Now you gotta do me one." He looked to Gerrick pleadingly. "Take this off my shoulders and carry it home."

Gerrick studied him a moment, then nodded. "Alright, mate. Thank ye."

Spider smiled wanly. "Thanks, Gerrick."

Ansley spoke up. "Stay in toon, mate. We may need ye."

"I'll be at the Nuckelavee's Arse on Grass Market Street." He stood up.

Gerrick and Ansley clasped hands and embraced him one more time. He turned to go.

Gerrick watched him leave, then began to pace.

Ansley watched him. "We can do that inside, love."

Gerrick ignored her for the time being, trying to subdue the encroaching fear in his gut. MacBoon had stood against much to be here, but this sounded new.

He just hoped Da could handle it.

"Alright." Gerrick turned to Jonas and Ansley. "We need tae find time tae--"

"Behind you." Jonas glanced over Gerrick's shoulder.

Gerrick turned quickly, shaking his hidden sgian dubh--his hold-out knife--out of his sleeve and into his hand.

A smiling halfling clad all in black regarded them smugly, an intruder proud to announce by his presence that he did not feel he needed to be invited. That kind of presumption got right up a MacBoon's kilt. Da might have called him on it, but Gerrick knew better. If he didn't need to be invited, he was not to be trifled with.

The halfling bowed low. "The Mother Duck requests the honor of your presence, master MacBoon, madam Fraser, master Khalev...and master O'Toole."

Gerrick felt the fear in his gut take a new shape. He sighed and resheathed his sgian dubh.

When it rains, it pours.

Gerrick smiled, hoping to show the intruder a brave face. "We would be honored tae accept the Mother Duck's hospitality. Lead on."