As soon as Beren leaps into the boat--whatever Nivi says--Ola doesn't wait for him to take up any oars, but immediately leans back to drag the boat around and get away from the shore as fast as possible. It takes her a second or two to register what Nivi is saying about the owl---she thinks she sees it flitting there, just at the edge of her vision, nearly blinded by the proximity of the Divine light. She squints her burning, tearing eyes against Beren's brilliant glow, and tries to focus on where the owl is leading them.

Out of the other corner of her eye, she seems Nivi's arrow crumple one of the zombies to the ground, while the other struggles mindlessly against entrapping vines that seem to have sprouted from nowhere out of the sound. Did Jack do that? An eerie shiver runs through her at the thought. To command nature that way... it strikes her as uncannily as did the green motes of light that still swim in the back of her mind. But there is no time for more visions or mystic contemplations. She must row, her arms burning from the unaccustomed activity even as she pulls the boat through the churning ripples of their frantic escape.

As swiftly as a spider pounces on it's prey, Moira -the moment Beren is assuredly within the boat, pushes off from the shore of the lake, the windless howls of the undead echoing through the immediate area, the sound of water splashing as she pushes off, and then, despite her burning muscles quickly falls again and again in the water, before the glowing hand of the being... the man she seems enraptured by closes around one of the oars, taking some of the strain off of her as they both begin to row, if a bit lopsidedly. (Beren: 11 on sheet) and they make it to the deeper parts of the lake, as it seems the shallows do not last long on Lake Zarovich.

Combat is effectively over, as the Zombies cannot reach you anymore - they will simply sink.

Soon, Nivi is shouting orders at Shiv much as a captain might her crew, and the bird, familiar with her obliges, moving slowly enough for the boat to keep up but with the urgency of the situation driving him forward.  It takes another minute but between Beren and Moira (Moira: 15 on sheet) the pace picks up, and soon the boat with the drunken fisherman comes into view. Shiv begins circling in the tightest circles he can, directly above the water where he saw the girl tossed. The man seems unphased - whether ignorant or uncaring - of the owl nearby. Nor does he seem to care about the party's presence, a dumb smile is writ clearly on his face as his fishing rod is held out before him. He's even humming a dull, unintelligible tune.

Whoever seeks to go after the sack, must succeed on a DC 12 Athletics check to get there in time. Beren will simply sink due to the weight of his armor and weapons.

Beren ignores Nivi's quip, instead scrambling to take the other oar from Moira. He seems oblivious to the drow's teary eyes, as he is rather distracted by the pain blossoming in his chest and from his new wounds. It seems that as he'd turned away the undead claws had managed to catch him where his chainmail was busted by last undead they'd faced. Now he had a fresh wound right on his side...it seems that undead just want to see him ripped in half. At least these ones were not as formidable as the ones in the Chapel.

Pushing aside his discomfort, he fixes the owl in his sights and continues after it. Part of him wants to scold the group for coming to pick him up instead of going after the girl (who is completely helpless unlike himself), but he decides against it. There is no point in bringing it up now, and talking will only slow him down. Right now they just need to focus on saving Arabelle. 

When they reach the location where the girl had allegedly been thrown overboard, Beren half stands up before remembering that he's wearing chainmail and two swords...not the best thing to go swimming in. If he tried to save the girl he'd wind up dragging her down like a ball and chain. Yet there isn't enough time for him to take anything off...  Feeling the boat rock as someone jumps overboard, he turns to see who went in--and is a little surprised when both Nivi and Olamoira jump into action. (Trying to base this off of what was said in the PMs, will change if needed) 

Quickly, he reaches out to touch Olamoira's sleeve just before she plunges into the water, casting Light on the fabric of the cuff of her sleeve. The fabric glows a bright, yet soft, shade of blue, which hopefully helps the two elf women navigate underwater without utterly blinding the drow. This should also help Beren and Jack keep track of her while she is below the surface of the dark lake.

As the two elves head overboard, Beren finds himself wishing he had a bow. If he did, he would shoot that man who feels so self satisfied by drowning a child. Though, some small and distant part of him realizes that there is the possibility the sack could contain something other than a human girl. Still, he finds it difficult to acknowledge that.

In the meantime, he prepares to help however he can. Whether it be stabilizing the boat as the women to climb back in, or helping get the sack and rescuers into the boat. 

As Olamoira and Beren row, Nivi speaks with Shiv telepathically, urging the owl to zero in on the exact spot he remembers the girl being dropped in.

As she does so, she appears to be waggling her fingers and mumbling to herself, as if attempting to remember and practice fairly rudimentary arcane magic which she had once been taught (but clearly had not been a very good student in paying attention to).  At times, it appears that the waters around the rowboat take on a mild current, pushing the party towards their objective, though it is not as consistent as might be hoped.

My entire bloody family would be better at this than me, she almost growls to herself as she stows her longbow and backpack.

Making sense of what in the world the drunk fisherman was thinking, chucking the girl into the lake would have to wait.  No point to kidnapping or murder if there's nothing to gain from it!  This incongruity bothers Nivi almost as much as the kidnapping and attempted murder themselves.  A speck of doubt enters her consciousness as to whether it really is the girl in the sack.  It sure looked and sounded like a squirming girl in there through Shiv's senses...

Nevertheless, Nivi does not hesitate.  "Watch that kill-happy wine connoisseur over there in case he tries anything, and help the Prophet if you can," she suggests to Beren and Jack as she slips over the rowboat's side into the murky depths, seeing Olamoira do so nearly simultaneously opposite her.

Her eyes strain for the wriggling sack, perhaps no longer wriggling.  The shock of watery cold jolts her and the darkness is more complete than she had expected.  Even with her darkvision, Nivi is not able to perceive the exact location of their quarry.  But barely glimpsing the dark elf moving downward through the water, she once again waggles her fingers and mumbles, bubbles rising from her lips.  Once, twice she casts Shape Water to set up currents that aim to help Olamoira dive to retrieve the sack and bring it safely back to the surface.

Distantly, she thinks the second one might have been in the right spot to help the drow before coming up for air herself, gasping.

Nivi Perception at disadvantage (darkness being dim light in her darkvision):  11 (failure)
Nivi two 2d20s to randomly fire her Shape Water:  8 and 17

Olamoira feels the relief in her freed arm as Beren takes the other oar, and closes her hand around the oar she still has, putting the full force of her strength onto one side of the rowing now. The boat shoots ahead with Beren's help, following Shiv's mad flapping over the water. Her breathing ragged from the intense workout, her wide dark eyes still burning from the Light in her peripheral vision, she stares down into the black water that Shiv circles over. There's a girl down there? Of course there could be. Drowning wasn't the preferred method of sacrificing victims in the temple, but---Ola doesn't finish the thought, but stands up, dropping the oar and her pack into the boat, before plunging into the ice cold lake. Right before she leaves the boat, she sees---or maybe just feels---Beren's glowing hand touch her sleeve, and the sudden warmth and odor of heavenly incense jars her brain from its morbid wanderings as she takes the icy plunge.

Or maybe it's the cold water. She tried to gasp a lungful of air as she leapt, but the impact and the cold knocks the breath out of her. Also, her robe is now glowing. She spins in the water, awed and disoriented, for half a second, and then kicks strongly downwards, her eyes adjusting to the soft blue glow. Not I, to ever be able to shine as bright as the Sun does, no, not I, but I will reflect it, pale, like the moon does. We never see the moon underground either. But what can she see underwater? Not much. The glow of her robe shines out through the murky liquid, hazy in her eyes still stinging, as she looks around for a sack, for anything that might look like their target. May it not be too late... Ola feels the tips of her fingers start to tingle as she readies a prayer in her mind. The moon can cast light and draw forth life too... just more quietly. Her lungs burn for air. 

The fog seems to thin ever so slightly over the course of time as they approach the 'crater' center, the moon however still behind enough of it to barely cast light. The summer air was warm but the water itself cold and unwelcoming to anyone forgetting to dip their toes. The boat approaching the crater that the owl points to, before both elves dive in, leaving Beren stranded on the boat whether he liked it or not. New ripples form over the water, echoing out and fading over time, though some crash against the boats side, or against each other as they meet beyond the reach of the wood.

The man continues fishing, as though no one, and nothing else were there. Humming his unintelligible tune, finding that his wine and ale has ran out, and after a moment of mild annoyance - seems to forget.. or no longer care. Above the surface of the water, aside from the water itself, and the faint humming of the man the world is devoid of sound. Much like in a dream where one is alone, in a windless scape. Thoughts that a single noise would echo into eternity in these tense moments -though perhaps less so for the eladrin?- 

Spells work within the opaque water, made so by nightfall, and other factors limiting the vision of both even as Moira is blessed by Beren to bear his holy light that now pierces through the darkness and meets ultimately in a middle ground. The light does not sting or blind moira, but it also only helps marginally. But in a world of three dimensional movement and shadow, even the faintest bit helps. Nivi weaves together several spells, forgetting that not all spells are spoken, a blunder she had likely done in the past, forcing her to surface, where she saw the handsome mask of the sun, with hand outstretched to assist her up or to wait until Moira returned... with or without the sack.

As Moira sinks into the placid depths of the shadowed water, she feels a rush of water meet her face in an unusual way, as if the water had forced itself against her.. trying to stop her from taking its sacrifice? But she pushes on, her lungs, arms, and shoulders burning. Moira - likely processed great strength but lacking in activity, paled in stamina which is likely why her recent efforts have been so... tedious.

She pushes onward a few more feet, and she feels the tail end of water rushing past her face like an ooze or a slime once more - it was then that she saw a brown shadow, tinged azure in the murk of the water, the faint, faint light of the moon, and the subtle glow of the light spell. The sack was at the very edge of her vision... the time it had taken them to get there had let the sack sink deep.. but there it was.

Moira's lungs protested, but she was determined after seeing the bean-shaped sack, pushing her limits, she makes it to the sack just before it begins to descend again - momentum lost-

It had been nearly a full minute since Moira had gone down, and she was out of breath but still held onto consciousness. Placing the sack in her jaw to free her hands, she swam up, as fast as she could. Carbon was replacing oxygen, and the moon was like a candle, dim but visible, and she locked onto it. Rising... Rising....

Her mind goes nearly blank as water begins to fill her lungs, perhaps she should have levitated back? Sure she was under water but... it may have been faster? She see's stars, though not ones that fill the night sky. Her vision goes black for a moment.. one more powerful push, and amongst the stars, she see's the sun, wavering, warbling as the surface rippled, and then suddenly, she was pulled up by a strong hand that pulled her into the boat, before the noodle-arms of the lanky eladrin grasped for the sack before it sank once more.

Moira finds herself face-up in the boat, and the moon and the sun dance together before her eyes as she coughs up water (Moira has taken 4 drowning damage), and as Jack opens the sack, an alabaster skinned girl, with raven-black hair lies still, motionless on the boat.

The Sun... the Sun has come back. Her vision blacking and her lungs burning, she sees it above her through the water, murky and rippling. She drops the sack, and then is vaulted out of the water and back into the boat, falling backwards, her limbs refusing to hold her. The Sun... the Moon... then she flips over to her side as she violently coughs water out of her lungs, choking. One hand spasmodically grabs at her chest, as if to claw at the pain, and under the light of the Sun she sees a flash of white and black, arranged like a body, as the wet, dripping sack is pulled open. Terror fills her, irrational terror, at the sight of the body before her eyes, and she reaches out to touch the still girl, whispering a prayer, and then, "Not yet... not yet... they need you here..." Her voice is raspy and choked from the water, and barely audible. Misery swims inside her head. It's still too hard for her to watch a girl die. Too hard.

Nivi climbs back onto the boat with Beren's help, spluttering and drenched.  "Much obliged, Sunshine," she coughs and shows her teeth in what passes for a relatively sweet smile.  Shiv circles, agitated, reflecting Nivi's incredulous puzzlement that the drunkard appears to have kidnapped and attempted to kill the girl for no discernible motive or gain.  The owl scans the water and the fog-bounded horizon for other threats in case the man is not working alone.

Nivi herself peers back down into the darkened lake, hoping for a glimpse of Olamoira, wondering if her water currents helped or hindered the rescue attempt.  Just when she has given up on Arabelle being saved and is beginning to wonder if the dark elf will ever surface, she does.

As the others haul Olamoira and the sack aboard to reveal the motionless, pale girl, Nivi's face remains a mask of expressionless fury at the situation.  Knowing the others will be far better at healing and reviving Arabelle if she yet lives, Nivi stands aside to give them room.  She releases her water currents, casting Shape Water again to drain as much as she can of the fluid from Olamoira and her own clothes back out into the lake, leaving them wet but not quite as thoroughly waterlogged.  The drow is tough, give her that.  Bregan D'aerthe in Waterdeep might take her after all if she weren't so devout.

Still shivering from the damp, she turns back to the murderous fisherman as the others care for Arabelle and Olamoira.  Her voice dead flat with anger.

"You work for someone, friend?  Local crew?  What's the angle, bagging and dumping her to the bottom?  Don't see any way you collect a bounty or ransom now, and a client wanting a revenge killing would need proof.  Just enjoy murdering girls for no reason, then?"

She disciplines her hand as she gathers her backpack and longbow from the rowboat.  Not drawing the latter on the man.  Yet.

Jack might've welcomed Beren aboard once the man finally clamored onto the ship...
He might've also waved to the fisherman once he was in sight, and asked for a spot of wine for both himself and his fellow...
He could've helped tended to Beren's wounds at any point during the trip...
He could've also called upon 'nature spirits' as Nivi suggested earlier in anticipation of providing at least some small tangible aid to the others...

... But Instead, ever since the group were once again racing to get back to the rescue operation, the Eladrin face took on a more vacant look at some point. At best during this time, he only went through the motions of responding to any stimuli, before drifting off in thought again; only just keeping his balance in the boat by sheer luck and subconscious reflexes of a past self taking the reigns in those brief moments where it was necessary. As fate or fortune would have it however, or mayhaps even at a call from Beren to focus, Jack regained enough focus just in time to help with the sack, and at least partially free the girl from its confines. Enough to where she could breathe as he held her in his arms... if not from lungs no doubt filled with water.

Although just about ready to accept the girl's fate, he glances to Olamoira as she reached out to pray for the girl, and in seeing the misery and desperation on her face, he raised a brow before glancing to Beren and hopefully a returned Nivi. "Don't kill'im. We'll need him too." A quick little warning to the duo should either had the means or desire to 'avenge' the girl, before -- if Ola's magic seemed not to have worked -- Jack would busy himself trying to lay the girl out in the boat to start performing a mix of CPR and minor druidic magic to coax some of the water from her lungs. All while humming a tune to focus his mind during the process.

 Medicine: 14. (15)
(Used Inspiration)

"My name is Beren," Beren says bluntly, light flickering as he helps Nivi back into the boat. Once she is safely aboard, he turns his attention back to the water where the blue glow of Olamoira's robes was slowly fading away. It felt like far too long before it started returning, rising to the surface like some sort of creature of the deep. As soon as the drow surfaces, he pulls her up into the boat. "Grab the sack," he says as he hauls Olamoira aboard, giving the slightest glance towards Jack just in time to see him pulling the wet sack over the side of the boat. 

He only has enough power for one more spell and was fully prepared to use it on either Olamoira or the girl, who is now sprawled on the floor of their boat. However, in spite of Olamoira's near-drowned state, she was somehow faster than he, bestowing on the girl the very spell he'd planned to use himself. He glances at the drow, hesitating for a moment as he weighs wether or not to use the spell on her considering she'd nearly drowned herself. But no, she seems fine for now so he'll save his energy. He might need it to deal with that bastard in the other boat. 

As he thinks this, he turns his mask towards the fisherman as Nivi speaks to the man and Jack asks them both to abstain from killing the fellow. With a low growl, he forces himself to pay attention to the small body on the floor, kneeling down and preparing to use his last spell to help if need be. 

Miora glows with the energy of her power (I don't know the color theme you want!) and it flows from her fingers into the girl. However the girls pale complexion does not change. Her body laying still in the boat, aside from the slight rocking of the water, as people on the boat move and shift around. Nivi meanwhile focuses her attention on the man who had assumedly taken her, and thus led to this entire situation, her confused ire at the man smoldering for several long moments as Shiv circles the immediate area, looking for threats, or accomplices, or anything else. 

The bird only see's the moon which is becoming ever clearer as time passes, and fog fades, the partially devoured treeline in the distance as the fog relinquishes some of it's hungry grasp, though inevitably the 'wall' blocks all visibility to even the keenest eye when looking far enough. The mostly-placid waters around them, the two boats, the fisherman and the party themselves, as well as the shoreline. They were all alone, with the body of a girl, a human,  a human?, and a trio of elves of every variety.

Tension mounts though as Moira's magic failed to revive the girl. Luckily for Nivi and Moira, this was a summers night - and though the water may be cold, the air is faintly warm against their skin providing slow, but sure relief once the initial chill fades. Finally, she speaks up, flat and furious. Her rancor is met with ignorance. The man continuing to hum an unintelligible tune as he 'fishes.' His clothes are a bit more colorful than the usual fishermen, and as he hums, he 'bops' just a little, enough to make the boat he's on shiver but never be in danger of capsizing. As if he were alone, and no one had just spoken to him. Oblivious.

Jack, who had apparently been in a trance-like state finally comes-to as the situation is reaching a crescendo, the unmoving body of the girl, seemingly un-phased by the magical aid. He rolls the girl to her back, her eyes closed as her skin mimics the moonlight that had begun to finally shine down through the fog clearly. She doesn't react. He presses his hand to her breast, placing his other atop it, and pushing down once, hard. Then again. Nothing.

He puts his lips to his, plugging her nose and pushing air in in a moderate, steady flow that takes about two seconds. Pulling back as he's guided, both by nature and seemingly some outside force, his hand was upon her breast again, pushing down, twice, three times. His lips pressed to hers, and once more he breathed in air, forcing it down gently and his efforts were rewarded with a small deluge of water flowign in reverse to the air, filling his mouth and hitting the back of his throat, causing him to choke atleast momentarily.

The girl coughed heavily, harshly several more times, water rising like a geyser  into the air, before succumbing to gravity, and splashing about the boat, or otherwise intermingling with the waterlogged clothes she wore. Her eyes opened wide, revealing vividly green eyes, and for a moment she's paralyzed there as air fills her lungs once more. However she quickly leaned over, propped on her elbows and retched bile into the boat itself. 

After that eternity passed, where all Arabelle could do was stare at the wood, breathing in ragged gasps, in contrast the the mans calm humming - she finally gained enough composure to actually begin looking around. First her face met with Jacks, and she locked emerald eyes with him though she only seemed able to somewhat comprehend what she was looking at, her gaze then turning, spotting Moira next.. the woman laying on her back as well, as her strain was finally overm she looked familiar to Arabelle but... that was likely due to the dusk elves being shades of grey-ash, and Moira being slightly darker.. all of which being elf-kin. Though her eyes caught sight of a glowing boot, and she followed up the leg until she saw all of Beren, and she fell back onto her hands, stuck by confusion, a tinge of fear.. but also curiosity.... her eyes lingered  on the glowing man for a long moment before finally noticing Nivi.. then catching where Beren and Nivi's glances were going, seeing the man.

It wasn't fear that graces Arabelles face but .. betrayal? or some other similar expression. Her breath grew ragged and she spun, dizzy before falling into the mixture of bile and water intermingling in the boat as she passed out, whether due to her near-death experience, or going three days without food and water, or perhaps a combination of both. But her chest still rose and fell.. she was, at the very least, alive.

Nivi shakes her head as Beren denies the most obvious of nicknames  I mean, the man literally has Sunshine coming out of...

Shrugging, she studies the drunk and seemingly catatonic killer as he ignores her verbal salvo.  Is he deaf?  Or just not the sharpest knife?

She turns and notices that Arabelle lives, thanks to the Prophet's rescue and Shorty's care, mumbling the an unnecessary verbal component of Shape Water once more to cause water to spout out of the lake and clean the bile and other fluids out of the boat and off the girl, then back into the lake.  She had seen a drowned man in the Dock Ward back in Waterdeep once, face bloated and leg overextended from the stone block chained to it that had dragged him to the bottom.  She studies Arabelle, surprised at the power of her own relief when the girl began to cough instead of remaining dead.

Green eyes like mine, only bright instead of pale.  My oh-so-dear sister's eyes.  Clear as can be that Arabelle knew the bastard from the look she gave him.

Nivi begins mumbling again, though this time the arcane cantrip has a legitimate verbal component.  Touching something inside her pocket with one hand and pointing with the other, she whispers a telepathic message into the brain of the drunken fisherman, loud enough for the others to hear it over the air.

"Girl's alive.  Not sure if you are too, but you're coming with us, Bubbles.  We doing this the easy way, or is there only the hard way with you?"

(He can reply telepathically in his head without speaking if he chooses, though only Nivi would hear it in that case.)

Shiv circles thrice more and settles back on Nivi's shoulder, eyes blinking, then dawning again, like clearer miniatures of the clouded moon above.

Not wanting to overwhelm her, Jack waggled his fingers in greeting to the awakened Arabelle, but otherwise stayed quiet to give her a moment to regain some composure. At the look in her face, he cocked his head to the side in confusion. Yet just as soon as the flood banks that was his self-restraint broke, the first question that might've flowed out dies on his lips upon seeing the girl fall unconcious once more. Shaken, hungry, and likely bruised in places, but alive, if nothing else.

"Hm~ A shame. I would've liked to talk with you more Jewels. But seems that will just have to wait for now." He pats Arabelle on the shoulder twice, then looked to Olamoira almost expectantly for a second, if she hadn't already moved by then to take the girl more into her arms. Regardless, the look is all he had a mind to give the Drow before turning on Beren and offering a hand. "Take it, and I'll guide you on the path to cross over to that other boat without a nasty spell. From there, I trust you'll detain him, yes?" He asks of Beren.

Once his request is accepted, and almost as soon as Beren's hand touched him would the paladin then turn into clump of leaves that immediately drifted away on some unheard and unfelt wind. The current, nevertheless, unerringly flowed right into the middle of the fisherman's boat, depositing the leaves in the shape of Beren, before falling away and revealing the man in the same exact position. After which point Jack had all but washed any concern from mind of the fisherman for the next little bit, as he instead settled back into his own spot again to wait out the trip back. "Hm... And that's that for this Act, hm?" He murmurs, noting only then the drawing back of the fog in the backdrop.

When Arabele wakes up, Beren let’s out a breath of relief, ignoring the all to familiar look she gave him. Instead he focused on the man in the other boat. 

Just as he starts considering how to deal with the would be killer, Jack offers a hand. Beren gives the elf a flickering glance, hesitating a moment before wordlessly taking his hand. He seems rather unfazed when he disintegrates and reforms on the other boat, one hand still raised as if to shake hands with someone. He steps forward as quickly as he can without rocking the boat too much, and proceeds to grab the fisherman in a headlock. Hopefully the fellow will realize struggling is futile, as Beren really doesn’t want to end up capsizing the vessel and sinking like an anchor. “Don’t struggle, I’ll loose my hold if you agree to come quietly.” He rather expects at this point that the fellow won’t even respond, but better safe than sorry. 

If met with no resistance, Beren will temporarily let the man go before pulling out some rope and using it to tie him up. Then he’ll sit the guy down at the front of the boat so he can watch him while sitting at the back of the boat to row. 

Though some small speckles still linger in Arabelle's hair, the majority of the aquabile was removed and flung back into the lake by Nivi's spell. Soon after, she attempts to speak with the man telepathically, and she can tell her spell goes through, but her mind is met with silence. No response, whether mental or otherwise. The man keeps happily fishing, though he does take a moment to adjust his seating and relocate his rod. This entire time not getting a single bite. After a few long moments Nivi figures that he isn't going to respond telepathically either.

Beren, soon after teleported to the other boat, where he confronts the man, who is even less phased than the other of his kin back at the shore. Beren finds no resistance when the man is jumped and thusly locked by the head. However the man's eyes, once Beren gets a closer look seem glazed over, dull, and unfocused and not in the way a man too full in the cups might be. As the man fails to resist though, Beren begins to tie him up. The man is thus sat, and bound, but now the man whether bound behind the back or the front does his best to reach for the rod that was likely removed during the process, falling to his side, and ( 6 ) nearly but not quite capsizing the boat with his sheer girth.

Beren is then able to row as needed.

So goign to the shore directly? goign to the boat landing? going somewhere else? doign somehting else?

Olamoira, bedraggled, her hand slides free from the girl who makes no response to her prayer, and she feels suddenly chilled, icy cold. Jack crosses her field of vision and bends down to kiss the girl and push hard on her chest in rhythmic thrusts. Ola has never seen such a thing before, and what startles her is not the strange and physically intimate gestures, but the almost violent tearing the girl back from the drowning that had claimed her. Scattering the green motes at the edge of her mind into the shadows, where death and water had already peaceably begun to claim Arabelle. The water hurls back from her lungs as if it had smashed against a wall it could not cross, pushed out by Jack's hands with their strange green aura that fights to reclaim the integrity of the little being pulled away by the shadowy lake in her lungs. Life finds a way. It was made with the spirit to carry on. That's why it is so ugly a deed to snuff it out.

Ola lays there, watching, her palms cold and clammy under her wet sleeves. She makes no move to go near the distressed girl, her own distress blotting it out. The fact that Arabelle lives again seems only to rub in Ola's face the lives ended at her own hands that never could be reclaimed, even though now she repents them with every fiber of her being. Only it wasn't water coming up from Sylkalana's throat... it was blood...

Her muddled mind barely takes in the several events that follow. Beren teleporting in a swirl of leaves to the other boat and apprehending the fisherman. A man who seems dead as he walks... a far worse abomination than the snatching of a life fairly claimed by death... not undeath, but unlife. And somewhere deep inside her horrified mind, Ola knows she must row again. Pushing herself up, the sodden robe dragging against her, she crawls to the oars and grips them in both hands.

Beren frowns at the fisherman...clearly he's under the influence of something other than too much wine. When the fellow falls to the floor, nearly capsizing the boat as he tries to recover his rod, Beren considers knocking him out. Perhaps that would snap him out of whatever accursed trance has taken hold of him. Instead, he grabs the rod and throws it on the floor next to the fisherman in hopes of getting him to stay still. If that doesn't work...well he'll try something else. For now, the need to get moving. 

As much as he would like to get off the water and away from the danger of capsizing the boat, he decides it would be better not to risk the undead. So, he starts rowing back to where they'd encountered the first fisherman, assuming the others will follow. 

The last thing Beren saw was a look of mild surprise from Jack before ultimately being whisked away. For although Jack had meant well by his offer, he'd been looking forward to that brief moment of panic most, who either possessed not the inherit ability or talent for conjuration, tended to show in those final moments before having the entirety of their being replaced by many a fragile things... for a few seconds at least, before reassembling elsewhere no worse for wear! He then chuckled and muttered as he settled again in his seat, wanting little more than to be right and comfortable for whatever show Beren was about to put on, "I shouldn't be so surprised."

And yet, for all of his desire to casually observe until they were all on the move again, something he would not urge or could be bother to do anything about personally, a nagging thought has him looking down to Arabelle again with a frown. Then with a small but exasperated sigh should Nivi not seen more to the girl, seeing as Olamoira had to row, Jack takes off his poncho to wrap about the girl like a blanket, before sitting her up so that she at least rested against his chest instead of the cold and moist wood of the boat.

Unfortunately as all that's happening, no personal connection is drawn from the fishing rod and fishermen. So long as Beren was able to keep his senses and appeared to be rowing along, Jack was content to eventually wave at the man and say, "Hurry along, my friend. You don't want leave our dear Sun-touched soul over here worrying about keeping pace with you now."

In Nivi's world, there are three states of being for a non-combatant:  alive, dying and dead.  Since Arabelle no longer appears to be in either of the latter two states, Nivi would only tend to the girl's well being as an afterthought, especially after Shorty already seems to be on the job.

She wonders more whether she needs to add a fourth category for whatever would describe the unresponsive murder-hobo with the fisherman's pole.  Maybe no need to overthink it.  Four categories, really:  alive, dying, dead and dead drunk.  Could just be that fourth option.

After seeing Jack teleport Sunshine er... Beren over to take control of Mr. Dead Drunk's boat, conjuring similar yet subtly different fey magic from how she had seen her brother and sister misty step short distances during a fight, chase or hunt, Nivi finally relaxes.

"Right.  Dump the boats back where we got the first one.  Eye out for zombies or lake monsters or whatever other lovelies might be out and about tonight.  Then haul the girl straight back to the town gate guards.  Closer than the Vistani camp, and grouchy old Lu-Lu might claim credit if we went to him first.  Not that he doesn't still owe us, though.  Good word, some fish and a smile, right?  Not forgetting that."

Out of habit, Nivi and Shiv (the owl being back perched on the her shoulder) continue to scan for threats on shore, water or air as the elf stands amidships:

Moira's mind is a mire in a hurricane of thoughts, past, and present, mullings and musings of thought inside her own head - as seemed to be her wont. Aside from Beren, she didn't interact much with the outside world it seemed. Regardless, as the man is taken into custody.. as much as it can be called that, the girl taken and wrapped into swaddling by Jack, and Nivi announcing their course of action... Moira makes her way up to sitting once more. Having had just enough time to be mostly over her issues with water and air. Beren handling the minor issue within his own boat by placating the unresponsive man by giving him his rod so that he wouldn't attempt to reenact the titanic.. And with a heading given, the group of pirates... err the party make their way along the lake, safe enough from shore to avoid anything undead and dumb as well at the very least. Passing by the area where the undead had attacked Beren, no sign of them. Either they had 'drown' themselves, or they had returned to the forest.

Nivi in particular notices the fog seems to be almost entirely gone. Revealing distant shadowed mountains, clawing at the sky with hunger, the moon, now only vaguely obscured, shone brightly above, and even the town was more visible.. in that it wasn't swallowed by the mist and fog. Taking a more casual pace, if only for Moira's sake, it takes the better part of fisteen minutes to reach the shore landing, but you do eventually all get there. However, just feet from the shore the man suddenly snaps-to, looking around, dazed, and confused, if also quite a bit drunk and hungover at the same time. He attempts to sit up, only to find himself bound, this sets a dull-panic in his eyes... as he doesn't seem as bothered as one would expect in his situation...

W-where am I? Who are you? he asks of Beren, once he see's the living torch. You din't throw away my fish, did you?