Lost Eidolons

"Evening ladies, gents. Finally got me some shore leave. What's the good word, then? And what's good t'drink in this fine establishment?"

"...This place is deader'n a church on Friday night..."

"Cor, you'd think a navy man what sent the Churchies packin' wouldn't lack for compn'y, but you're be wrong in Greyhook."

"Many within the confines of the town of Greyhook are preparing for the End of Days, Mister...face not recongnized. Name unknown. Sir."

Laden down with many objects on its back, seemingly tied together in order to have nothing fall out, a walking junk-heap clatters and rattles its way onto a bench, and slings the 'pack' onto the table. It lands with a small crash and wobble, and a book pops out from the pile:

Ancestry and How To Trace Yours

It turns its rusty face-plate to look at Mr. Walls. "Are you new here? Now? At the End of Days?"

"End of Days? This was Howard's Tap, 'ccording to the sign. And no, I'm not new. Been with the Captain longer'n you lot, but he keeps us busy. Have to keep the Fleet o'er head ship shape and all."

Emily pipes up from another table. "Oy, Sailor!" She calls. "why don't you come over to my table? I've got some beer if you've a stomach for it." She waves him over lazily.

"Well, I can't very well say no to that, now can I?"