Jada and Firebrand approach the beast.  It looks bloodied and full of projectiles. It's no longer breathing and lays still. It's tail spike menacingly motionless. 

OOC: roll a d100; high you recover the two you hit with but low they are useless!

"I'm not use to this route yet," Nirah begins. "These beasts surely are the worse of it if we're lucky," she sighs loudly then realizing passengers are injured jogs over to where Avris is kneeling.

One man, an elderly robed gentleman, has passed away. There are two younger women dressed in traveling gear for the desert climate look wounded but not mortally. They just need basic medical care. 

"I'll leave it to you ma'am," Nirah says to Avris. "We need a medic," she mumbles to herself and wanders back towards the corpse of the manticore.

2

Once he has decapitated the manticore, Firebrand puts a foot on the body and yanks the two javelins out of the corpse. He cleans some of the blood off on a relatively uncharred patch of the beast's fur.

"I'll have to give them a good cleaning later," the dragonborn says. "But this will do for now. If we need any additional medical aid I can also be of assistance."

Stepping gingerly over a spurting chunk of manticore, Glyph begins to casually look for the one physical dagger hilt sticking out the side of the monster (if he’s able to recover it, he will, see roll below). He surreptitiously wipes his hands on a bit of cloth attached to a dangling rope, before turning to see Firebrand separate the manticore’s head from its body. He smiles at the dragonborn but looks a bit queasy.

“Well, how about that?” He asks, rhetorically. “Not even touched down and we’re already fending off monsters!”

The half-elf takes another uneasy look at the now-oozing neck stump, then proceeds to track down the crewmembers and passengers who helped turn the tide of battle. He especially focuses on small group of passengers, nearly all in tears. Moving into their space and taking command of the conversation, he flips a hand in the air.

“Has anyone here heard the Tale of the Talentless Troglodyte?” Glyph winks and flashes a quick smile at each of them. “No!? Well, well, well, aren’t you in for a treat! You see, it starts with a halfling and a troglodyte walking into my favorite tavern, the Sickly, Prickly, Pickle . . .”

He continues with his story, hoping the daring—and completely made up—tale will at least give them temporary relief. As he moves into the main narrative, his golden cloak subtly shifts. The thick golden bands slowly seem to melt and reform into a golden herringbone pattern.

(I’ll roll a performance check just for the heck of it! Hoping to give them something else to think about).

Performance check: 21     +    uncommon glamerweave 4       (grants a 1d4 bonus to a one performance or persuasion check per day).

DC 100 check to recover his dagger: 6

Ophelia closes her book of epics and calls Minvera back to her side. "What a vicious beast! I've never seen one up close. Are they always so-" she's abruptly cut off, as is the manticore's head. Wordlessly, she casts Prestidigitation to clean the splatter from her clothes. Noticing the injured young women, she recites a short poem dedicated to Sarenrae. The healing word materializes as golden bands, which settle upon their wounds and close them.

She looks to the old man. “Avris, I’m afraid I have nothing to give for this man save for some final words of comfort. You don’t happen to have anything that might help him?”

Avris rushes to the old man and mumbles a prayer to her deity. "I don't know, Ophelia. Maybe."

"Avandra, as thou doth change, change back this change in him." And she casts the spare the dying cantrip with little hope. 

Satisfied that the creature is dead, Jada takes a more relaxed standing position. He then backs away from the blood spatter and takes moment to clean himself with some water and cloth. Jada lacks any medical training, but watches as his companions help those that are hurt. "Well done comrades" He steps away once satisfied that those that can be saved were saved.  He continues to stay on deck  with the Halberd resting in the crook of his arm. He watches the skies for any other foul creatures.

Firebrand will join Jada in patrolling the deck for a while... he's also going to start tying thick ropes to his javelins so that he can use them to try to reel in flying enemies in the future.

"Agreed, I think that we did a solid job on that beast. Though I do hope that it didn't have any friends; I'm not a huge fan of flying at the best of times, and having to watch for manticore attacks isn't really endearing me to this method of travel. May the gods bless that poor gentleman on his journey to the next world."

Glyph is unable to recover his dagger but he does brilliantly manage to take the living's mind off the current horrors of the early evening. Accompanying the wounded passengers to the infirmary he helps a crewmember, Analise Allcot a female human ranger, secure the woman in the hammock-like beds that dangle from the ceiling beams in the small cramped area full of tinctures and tonic! Then to his surprise, Miora appears with a white apron on and white sleeves over her navy jacket.

"What...what do we have here?" She asks looking over the women. "I went below after your party decline my offers of more refreshments and was cleaning when the calamity started. Then when the first mate realized it was some sort of brawl she demanded we stay below decks," she explained looking sheepish. "But this well," she gestures at the women, "I... I'm afraid I haven't had a lot of training and might have....embellished my resume as it were," she confesses with a frown. "See I was an acolyte in my youth but I don't have a lot of hands-on training. I mean sure I  can manage the basics," the dwarf explains looking over the women's wounds that Ophelia all but healed.

The passengers however seem more traumatized than physically injured at present. They both however look enamored as well with Glyph!

Above deck......

Seeing to the crew that has sustained no injuries only frazzled nerves and the jammed ballista has been repaired, Nirah returns to Ophelia and Avris' side with the only man dead on deck! 

"It's a shame," Nirah begins looking down at the old man. "He's got a cargo hold full of books and only trinkets from Exandria he was going to peddle in Me'at Halwa then retire on the money, there in the city of mages," the half-orc/half-elf replies with a frown. "I don't believe we'll be able to find anyone to raise him there however," she adds, rubbing the back of their neck. "They....well rumor is they aren't too keen on necromancy," she adds with a wary look before pausing looking contemplative, "Say where's the professor? Shouldn't they know a thing or two about this sort of thing? I remember a story about the undead they thwarted or...was it accidentally smuggled a sarcophagus out with an undead bloke intact inside," Nirah trails off shaking her dreadlock-coifed head. They sigh loudly the jump slightly looking over at the headless corpse of the manticore as Firebrand stands beside it holding the head aloft dripping ichor all over the deck! "What do you plan to do with that? It's not staying on my ship," she shouts as she moves away from the ladies and towards where Jada and Firebrand stand over the dead beast! "Someone, please help me get this cursed thing over the side before we make it to the coast of Anjara," she says next looking to the men and then to her crew as she sighs. Not that I did appreciate the aid with your blade and javelins," she begins again with a curt, not at the Dragonborn, "It's a pleasure cruise, and this," she gestures at the corpse and head, "isn't what my other passengers signed on for," she explains. "Nine Hells most my crew, as well as myself, have only heard of these beasts not actually seen one or it...being slain," she adds looking a little sick herself but finally the men get a hint of her age, a young woman with a lot of responsibility is still young! "Please," she begins again, "can we dispose of the corpse over the side as well as the head," she adds with a less commanding tone now and speaking more as if asking a friend a favor as she looks to Jada and Firebrand for aid. 

"Madam," the dragonborn says gently, setting the severed head down. "I think you misunderstood my motivations; I'm not looking for trophies... but I felt that it would be in everyone's best interests to make certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that there was no chance the beast could still be clinging to life."

The dragonborn then turns his attention to Jada.

"Shall we go ahead and clean up our mess? Let's be mindful, though. I wouldn't want some poor merchant travelling below us to be struck by what's left of the beast."

A bit caught off guard by the dwarf’s sudden appearance, Glyph takes a step back and surveys the small, but bustling infirmary. Making a note that the ship appears to be well-stocked with healing tonics and salves, the half-elf’s eyes linger on the shelf for a moment. He then turns back to Moira.

“Not to worry, dear, not to worry,” he quickly says, raising his hand. He barreled on, pretending to know what he was talking about. “A bit of rest and relaxation is what these two chiefly need. And perhaps a bit of some of the good stuff? Syngornian whiskey perhaps, if you can spare it? It’ll help bring that stress and anxiety down for a bit.”

Glyph winks again at the two women in their hammocks and presses an illustration into each of their hands. One depicts the half-elf throwing up his fists at a wary-looking troglodyte, while the other shows Glyph with a large smile on his face, presenting the ecstatic creature with a lute. As the two women look at the drawings, the half-elf smiles and says, “Just remember, even a talentless troglodyte can tell a tragic tale!”

He turns away from the passengers and back to the dwarf, saying in a more hushed voice, “Strange that we didn’t see Maitland or Arduus during the commotion. I suppose they may’ve hunkered down for safety.” And maybe I’m just a bit too curious for my own good, he thought to himself before continuing, “Did you happen to see them at all during the attack?”

Barring some world-shattering revelation that requires more questioning, Glyph makes a plan to head back up to the deck after talking with Moira.

"Yes, I....I haven't had a chance to chat with you personally but I would hope having professed a holy man you'd take no trophies," Nirah offers with a soft smile. "We're still serval hours over open ocean," she then explains motioning to the side of the ship. "Casting this beast overboard should be safe enough but I could leave the clouds to make sure no one is below," she offers next.

Below deck...

"They aren't in my charge but I haven't noticed either dining with your party at all this week," Moira begins making a curious expression, "Professor Maitland always seemed a bit weak yes?" She says it more like a statement than a question. "That windy fellow seems to wear a lot of hats. A guard, a nursemaid, and an escort to the rest of you. I am sure there's a good reason but as I said our first mate, Gaia, wouldn't let anyone else go above deck during the skirmish," she reminds Glyph, "not that I noticed them trying to get on deck," she explains further with a shrug. 

"That would be appreciated," the dragonborn says. "Unlikely though it may be, it's not impossible that a ship could sail below us. I've learned that it's best not to take things like that for granted."

"Yes I will help" says Jada. He reluctantly puts down his Halberd and leans down at an angle and places both hands on the dead beast. "Lets do this together. Ready on 3. 1, 2 ,3! push" Jada pushes with everything he's got to move the beast over the side of the ship.

Nirah easily sails the sky ship through the clouds in the twilight revealing the open ocean and the sun sinking into the dark blue ocean of the eastern horizon. The body of the beast and its head is put over the side and makes a splash before the Gazer climbs into the clouds yet again. The watch changes hands from morning to evening crew finishes their tradition as the evening returns to some sense of normalcy. Gaia takes the wheel while the party once again, like the entire trip, is left to its own devices that evening. Maitland and Aruudus still remained sequestered in their cabin. Moira remains in the infirmary with the injured passengers while the rest of the crew rests or remains on deck at their posts. As the new moon rises joining the ever-present red moon that always graces the skies night or day.

Jada picks up his Halberd and asks Captain Nirah "Do you have any spare parchment and inkpen? I would like take note of what happen today. I am guessing there will be plenty of strange beast that are new to me in this new land and I would like to keep a record of them."

Once they have disposed of the carcass, Firebrand sighs.

"Well, it seems that our work here is finished, at least for the time being," the dragonborn says. "Let's get ourselves cleaned up a bit, then I think I'm ready to call it a night."

Glyph’s brow furrows as the conversation with Moira continues. It was almost like speaking of the dead. He’d seen neither the professor, nor their bodyguard in what seemed like a tenday. After patting the dwarf on the shoulder and thanking her, the half-elf bounces up the stairs and returns to his room to scribble some notes in a journal. He remained hunched over the book far longer than he intended, even past the footsteps and scraping noises above that signaled the crew shift change.

With a yawn, the half-elf closes the journal and rises from his chair. He promised himself he’d go to bed early tonight, but decides that it may be a good idea to check in with the crew and his party, given the circumstances of the day. Halfway down a corridor, Glyph stops to straighten a crooked mirror on the wall. Catching a glimpse of himself, he pauses. He eyes himself. He eyes his eyes. They look sad and tired, exhausted even. Not liking what he sees, the half-elf presses his forefingers against his eyebrows and pushes the skin up to make him look comically alert and charming. Slowly pulling his fingers away, his eyebrows stay up, frozen in Glyph’s characteristic charming expression.

He chuckles at his little joke and continues down the corridor, looking for anyone with an update or the desire to have a chat.

Ophelia, seeing that the dead man has been tended to, regards the manticore. At Jada's request Ophelia opens her pack. She hands him a fresh quill and a small roll of parchment. "Do you have a journal or some such to record your exploits? It would serve you better than a sheaf of loose papers. Better yet, you could borrow one of the books I brought with me." She leans over the side to watch the body fall into the sea. A shame she wouldn't have the opportunity to study the creature, but she's glad to be rid of the smell! A few castings of Prestidigitation restore the deck, expunging the foul black blood of the monster.

~~~

After supper, Ophelia takes out her violin and sets up in a corner of the dining area. She plays a soothing melody, a calm counterpoint to the excitement of the day.

Glyph slows as he moves down the corridor, catching the sound of Ophelia’s violin. He turns and slowly starts to drift toward the dining area. As he passes through the boat, the music turns his mind to fleeting memories of his youth.

A young half-elf darts through the dark forest, clutching something even darker under his arm. Pausing behind a tree, the young man unfurls the cloth under his arm, revealing a hooded cloak so dark that it seemed to suck even the dim light around it. The half-elf decides to put it on—even if it couldn’t magically conceal him, the void of the fabric may help hide his light skin. Pausing again, he puts his ear to the wind. Silence.

Then crunch. Then silence.

Glyph peers around the large tree trunk and sees two figures in the distance. He can’t quite make out the features of their gray faces, but he can still tell they’re angry. Ducking into a small hollow in the trunk, the half-elf closes his eyes and waits.

Standing just outside the dining hall, Glyph leans his head against the corridor’s wall, waiting for Ophelia to finish. When she stops playing, the half-elf steps into the room and sits down near the doorway. After a moment’s contemplation, he resumes his chatty demeanor. “That was lovely, thank you so much, Ophelia. Music is an incomprehensible magic. Even when not part of a spell, it heals us, insulates us, and makes us brave. I can’t think of an art less mundane than music.”

“Now, about today’s events. I must say your charming little owl was dead helpful on the battlefield today. It was much easier to focus on a slightly distracted foe. Funny, I recall reading Maitland mention something about manticores at some point. I didn’t think we’d see one before we even touched down. Anyway,” he pauses, “all the archaeologists that I’ve met have tended to show up after all the monsters were dead. Anjara must be very important to you, to risk so many unknowns.”