Octo remains upon the decking, catching his breath as the others move about him, watching the blonde girl and listening to the conversation between Sheela and Kallith. "Chosen? by who? Aye the Captain was a man of his own destiny, cant say anybody chose him do to anythin. The message said to dispose of you, and he wasn't known for subtilty" Sheela begins on an uncomfortable note but grows confident as she speaks. "You all look like you need some rest" she glances at her crew mates, only three of them remain. "I think Skit, molly and I can get us moving, where you want dropped off?" She glances into the Captains quarters where Dornin and Chandle are poking around. "I ah, sure could use a few coins left over to hire a new crew" She looks to Kallith, hopeful, cautious.
Dornin catches Chandle, helping her to keep her feet. The room is cluttered with books, charts, multiple jars and flasks of unknown substance. Mementos and odd optical devices
tucked in here and there. The state of the room, just as it was left by the Captain before the raging storm. The tossing of the ship, the near collapse of the vessel did not affect this room. Was the ship ever in peril? Chandle flips the cork, or lid on a half dozen canisters, mostly alcohol, one a strange oil. The drawers reveal more papers and charts. Molly pops into the room retrieving a small box, no larger than her hand it appears as a tiny replica of a large travelers chest. Too many items stuff the small room to make it easy to search. Time or other more specific means will be needed.
Any glass bottles not alcohol starting with the odd oil, “Not every type of glass reacts the same to its contents, I’d like to study any non-liquor bottles.” As soon as she starts focusing on the residue and staining of the oil however she sees spots and gets dizzy. “Wow your captain really did a number on me! As for dumping us off however, no! This vessel though I loathe it will help us rescue our kidnapped lady friend, then we’ll talk about ownership.”
Kallith gawps at Sheela, "You mean to tell me that this was normal? The man threw around lightning like he was the Thunderhead incarnate." The druid looks at Skit for support of the reality of the situation that befell them just a few minutes ago. She lets the equipment of the captain be, having made sure that the power he had wielded was innate.
Her eye falls onto the calm waves. 'They did calm very fast. Some sort of fey illusion?'
The firbolg turns back to Sheela, commenting on her needing rest "Yeah, I do." As an answer to the question of destination: "We want to go wherever the other ships go. They kidnapped a woman, so we're after them."
"I've got no idea where we are or how much coin your captain had on the side. We'll need to work together to get this ship to a port. You got a map or navigation skills? How are our supplies looking?"
Octo remains upon the decking, catching his breath as the others move about him, watching the blonde girl and listening to the conversation between Sheela and Kallith. Dornin catches Chandle, helping her to keep her feet. The room is cluttered with books, charts, multiple jars and flasks of unknown substance. Mementos and odd optical devices
Molly pops into the room retrieving a small box, no larger than her hand it appears as a tiny replica of a large travelers chest. Too many items stuff the small room to make it easy to search. Time or other more specific means will be needed.
🥀Molly Munchausen🌊
In the forlorn expanse of the schooner's upper deck, under a sky that seemed to brood with dark forebodings, the Rhinemaiden lingered near the shadowed edge of madness and sorrow. Her movements were languid, her gaze intermittently caught by the unseen, her attention seemingly snared by the whispers of Nettles, the doll clutched in her arms. This eerie totem, crafted from sea-worn fabric and cold seashells, seemed almost to breathe sinister counsel into her ear.
Octo, lying spent and weary on the wooden planks, drew a curious glance from Molly. Her face, usually a tapestry of chaotic expressions, settled into a mask of mournful solemnity. With a silent shake of her head—a gesture laden with unspoken grief—she approached him. Her hands, trembling slightly with a mix of eagerness and an eerie calm, hovered over his wounds. The air around them shimmered faintly as she invoked a Cure Wounds spell, her lips moving silently in a rhythm known only to the sea and its lost souls.
Shortly after that, in the dim confines of the Captain's cabin, where the air was thick with the must of old secrets and salt, Molly made a brief intrusion. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, flickered with a frenzied light as she seized a miniature chest—a tiny replica meant for the depths. It was to be an offering to Umberlee, a dark homage woven with the threads of oblivion. Without a word but with a glance that bore the weight of the ocean's depths, she turned to leave the same way she had entered.
On her way out, the Rhinemaiden paused by Chandle, extending a similar gesture of healing and cast Cure Wounds her touch both a blessing and a curse. Her words, though soft, carried the chill of the deep: "Let the Meer heilen your Wunden."she murmured, casting a spell that knit flesh and fortified spirit. Then, turning to Dornin, her incantation Healing Word was a whispered lament, echoing like a dirge in the cramped quarters.
Returning to the upper deck, where the relentless sea seemed to pause in anticipation, Molly resumed her grim task. With meticulous care, she prepared the Captain's body, wrapping it in a shroud fashioned from a torn sail—a fabric now sanctified by the solemn rites of passage. The small chest, filled with memories and dark trophies, was placed reverently under his folded arms, binding his spirit to the eternal depths.
Her every action was punctuated by the doll's silent approval, its glassy eyes reflecting Molly's sorry. As the Rhinemaiden worked, the ship's planks creaked like the bones of the sea's countless victims. Molly's preparations were a farewell and a ritual, setting the stage for a dark sacrifice to the chaos she revered—the essence of her pact with the Fathomless, Brineheart.
Sheela watches the lot of you, taking in the scene of Dornin and Chandle tossing the Captains quarters. The Words of Chandle strike a deep nerve it seems, she was hoping to simply drop you off and leave with the vessel. "The current charts are kept in the desk next to the Helm. And yes, I can read them, I was the ships navigator. Without the Captain or the First mate that makes me next in charge." She seems to choke on these words as Chandle mentions 'ownership'.
"Can you not just toss the dead mans quarters, he kept a few provisions and keepsakes in the drawer neath the window. It has a false bottom." Sheela considers her next words but perhaps a desire to engender trust, or simply make it out alive she continues. "His personal chest is under the slats, you need to move the desk to reach it, but Molly just took his most prized possession".
"Supplies are fine, the Folly is prepared for a several weeks voyage for near a dozen, it will certainly hold until we reach a port." Sheela turns to Skit, "I know your tired boy, you done good. Our guests have a need and we are to help them, lets hoist those sails and get er underway." She has a resigned air, but also one that has thrown off a yoke of oppression, a new freedom buoying the spirits no matter what tomorrow holds. "Get some rest, we will reach our destination in the morning"
The drawer under the window does indeed hold a false bottom. A bottom with a pair of vials, one an oily purple viscous liquid, the other a light blue sparkly concoction. A small dagger and a coiled and tied with hemp twine wrap of scrolls with arcane writings.
The Desk is heavy and takes a few shoves to push aside, the plank lifts easily revealing a long thin box the length of an arm.
Molly, I believe that’s what the captain called her, he thinks as he watches her in her mourning ritual. As she turns and starts walking towards him, Octo waits. Her body language confuses the minotaur, but her intentions do not seem aggressive.
She stands next to him and begins speaking. Even this close, he has no idea what she is saying. She sounds like the sea. Is that possible? His right eye, still painful and twitching from the lightning, immediately feels better, his vision coming into focus.
“Thank you, my name is Octo,” he says as the girl, as Molly, moves back to the captain’s body.
Octo slowly stands, trying to remember what else had transpired in the fight while he was trading blows with the captain. He has no doubt that he only stands now, because of Kallith’s healing magic, again. Chandle was climbing the mast, trying to untie sails and Dornin’s magical blasts were smashing into the captain’s chest.
Kallith is talking to the one named Sheela, and he saw Dornin and Chandle go below deck, so there doesn't seems to be any imminent danger.
Octo glances at his axe lying 6 feet away and decides to leave it for now, it’s not the time for weapons. He moves towards the captain and Molly, very slowly. He doesn’t know the relationship the girl and the captain had, but it is clear by her actions that there was something.
As a contributor to his death, Octo is hesitant to interfere with Molly and her mourning, but her healing gift showed a level of compassion, and he would like to return the sentiment if he could.
He moves towards the pair, as Molly is wrapping the captain in the sail. Silently he offers his help in moving, adjusting, and positioning the body to allow for the girl to accomplish her task
If Molly seems accepting of his help, Octo will continue.
If she does not seem receptive, he will immediately retreat and leave her alone.
Dornin stretches his back, feeling his muscles attempt to pull back in to place, he hasn’t had a fall like that in quite some time. After helping Chandle rummage, he says to her “Alright, I think you got this from here. I am going to check the others.” As he speaks, a shiver comes over him as hears echoing whispers around him. He notices his back seems to have been fixed. He sees the young blonde girl, he believes her name to be Molly, stride through the captain’s office and is gone in moments. He still wonders why she chose to rescue them from the undead, it was unnecessary, yet she has done it with no demands of gold.
Dornin walks out to the main deck, sees Molly preparing some kind of funeral ceremony for the captain with Octo to her side assisting. Kallith talks with Sheela about next moves, a conversation Dornin would normally have a full contribution in, however, this day has taken a heavy toll on everyone, so instead of chatting he makes his way to a storage supply and grabs food and beverage and begins to cook up a pleasant meal for the group. Perhaps a warm meal may raise spirits after the time they have had. He prepares a table they all may sit at and gathers anything that could pass as half-decent tableware (candles, plates, napkins) Upon finishing, he goes up to the deck and yells out to everyone “Foods up” and shoots a friendly smile as he descends back down.
Kallith is intrigued by Sheelas words. "Without the mate? What happened to the rest of the crew anyway? What were you doing in Port Llast?" She looks over to Molly, as she seemed to have a role to play in all this too.
The firbolg is not interested in rank or ownership politics, so doesn't bring it up. As far as she is concerned, the ship now belonged to the captains family. If he had none, the ships crew could be counted as close enough.
Relieved that Sheela is practiced in navigating the vessel, Kallith nods and says: "Very well. If you know where the two vessels that the Folly was supposed to escort are heading, we can give chase without worrying about running short. What can you tell me about their destination?"
When Dornin calls for food, Kallith will prefer to continue the conversation below deck, for she is starving. "Thanks brother, I need this!"
Chandle takes the vials the dagger the scrolls and the box down with her at the mention of food. She is feeling much better thanks to Molly but food would be very welcome.
Having no idea about maritime law or how to deal with pirated property, Chandle thinks Molly aught to have more of a say in what happens now…
She watches as Octo graciously helps with the ritual Molly is enacting, respecting his duality.
Between mouthfuls, Sheela grunts in appreciation. "Hmm this is good, simple but good. We lost our cook, and you make hoisting sails look difficult". A few more bits as she listens to Kalliths questions. "Well what happened to the crew I cant rightly tell you. If ya want answers, best ask the girl. A task that ill be, the words of Mad Molly are near unintelligible" She laughs a small strained chuckle, one who cares but is out of answers. Chandle finishes rifling the Captains quarters, dragging the pilfered possessions and the chest she dumps it on a table next to them then helps herself to the meal.
"We took the job of escort but I think the Captain had other Ideas. Soon's we got here he sent Molly to bottom of the Bay, she returned with a crusted chest. His dissapointment was obvious but me guessin it had an answer or somethin. Next Day the First mate took Molly and most of the crew into the dead infested town. Was gone a couple days before she returned with you lot." Her eyes seem to look back over the last couple hours since your arrival.
"Molly gave a small seal skin bag to the Captain, don't knowin if ya noticed. Had a small black leather bound book, size a my hand. I'm not knowing what it was he probably put it in that chest of his, the long thin one"
Sheela finishes her plate, pushing it away she fills her mug with a stale draught before offering a refill for any body wanting. "Strange they wantin to be dropped on a small island, Northern most tip a 'the Whalebones'. Its a chain of small islands, only a few inhabited. No where's near a port." She chews the drink in her cups before continuing. "Not knowin much a the island, never bin there. Only rumors and myths I heard tell. They say its haunted, but never the same hauntin from tale to tale. I's a knowin theres an old fortification atop a rocky cliff. In fact most of them Isles aint nothin but rocky cliffs."
The meal can be considered a Short rest if you like
On the Siren's Folly deck, shrouded in the melancholic silence that followed the tempest's rage, Mad Molly worked with somber diligence to prepare the Captain's final voyage. Her hands, usually so wild and erratic, moved with a precision that belied her chaotic nature. Each fold of the sailcloth repurposed into a sea shroud was a whispered farewell; each knot a silent plea to the deep.
As she secured the fabric around the Captain's form, Molly chanted softly; her voice, usually a cacophony of giggles and nonsensical chatter, took on an eerie tone. Her mutterings were soft, infused with the madness only she could manifest. "Muhen, muhen," she giggled, the sound more akin to the lowing of a cow.
The Rhinemaiden did not pause to share her thoughts or explain her actions to those who watched; instead, she communicated through the somber choreography of her grief. Beneath the Captain's folded arms, she placed his treasured keepsake—a small box filled with memories and dreams—enshrouding it with his mortal remains as a token of passage.
Heeding the whispered urgings of her doll Nettles, Molly secured the same rope around her waist—the one used when the Captain had her dive in Port Llast's bay to retrieve a sunken chest. Entrusting the other end of the rope to Octo, she gave a solemn nod, her face a mask of resolve rarely seen on the chaotic maiden.
With a grace that belied her usual tumult, Molly gently pushed the Captain's weighted shrouded form off the deck, watching as it slipped into the sea's embrace. She then dove into the water herself, her figure slicing through the waves with purpose.
Beneath the shadowy embrace of the deep ocean, an eerie tableau unfolds. A colossal Kraken dominates the scene, its immense tentacles stretching out like dark whispers into the murky abyss. Each limb, barnacled and scarred, moves with the slow, menacing grace of a creature born of the sea's deepest crypts. The creature's hide, a rough, mottled canvas, melds with the gloomy water surrounding it, making the Kraken part predator, part phantom of the deep. Shadows cling to its form, punctuated by the unsettling glow of its eyes—twin orbs of malevolent amber that burn with intelligence as ancient as the ocean itself. The dark silhouette of a Kraken awaited—a monstrous guardian of the deep, its tentacle slowly uncoiling towards the sinking enshrouded body along with his most prized possession... both serving as Molly's offering to the ocean as a somber sacrifice to the deep, to Umberlee. Here, amidst the cold silence of the underwater realm, the scene unfolds with a chilling grace, a reminder of the sea’s eternal claim over all who dare traverse its depths.
Molly's descent was both a literal and metaphorical plunge into the abyss of the sea and the emotional depths of her own psyche. As one of the great beast's tentacles reached the sinking shroud, the moment hung suspended—a haunting tableau of Molly, the sea, and the monstrous creature intertwined in a dance of fate and sacrifice.
As Molly watched the captain's shrouded form disappear into the murky depths, a whirlwind of emotions swept through her. There was a peculiar thrill in the ritual, a resonance with the unpredictable currents she so often navigated within her own mind. Yet, amidst the excitement, a shadow of sorrow lingered, a soft, haunting melody of loss for the captain who had, despite his tyranny, been a constant in her chaotic world. The sea, ever a reflection of Molly's inner tempest, now seemed to swell with her tumult—a surface both calm and menacing, mirroring the depth of her turmoil. Her heart beat in sync with the ocean's capricious pulse; each throb a somber ode to her dance with the untamable, the unpredictable.
Above the waves, the ship, now bereft of its Captain and caught in the aftermath of Molly's ritual, bobbed quietly on the vast, enigmatic sea, its future as uncertain as the fate of its fallen master.
“Thank you for the food.” Chandle leans against a post or wall feeling the muscles no longer cramping and spasming. “So Molly and the Captain, they were close? I had a pretty interesting relationship with my kin back home too. Is Molly okay? Sheela I’m sorry if I ruffled your feathers, I know nothing about ship or life at sea, you’re probably right about who takes over, I just don’t want my friends an I brushed aside. We need to get back the young woman who was snatched.”
"A remote island chain..." Kallith repeats to herself. She was worried and excited at the same time. The only islands the druid had ever seen was the small hillock in the middle of the local lake and the occasional ice floe. An arduous odyssee this may prove to be, but also an interesting one. Visions and ideas of sights that they would see flash in Kalliths mind as she eats.
With something warm in her stomach and the constant shouting of the captain in the past, the firbolg is relaxed once more, live energies slowly gathering once more. Even here, where no land was to be seen, Iallanis' presence was being felt.
"That's good Dornin. Do you cook a lot? I took you for the reading type, not the doing type!" Kallith says with a glint in her eye, which communicates that she meant it in good spirit.
As Sheela mentions the book, the firbolg looks into the round. She hadn't entered the captains quarters, so she asks: "Did anyone find that box and the book? Perhaps we'll get some answers from it."
She nods along as Chandle speaks.
[Kallith recuperates during the meal, taking the offer of a short rest]
Dornin gulps back the last of his food, scraping the bowl. "Ha! Very funny Kallith, I'll have you know my father was an excellent cook and can make my finest meal look like a week old rat trap. My books were important but he made sure that I had other skills too. Besides, this meal only tastes as good as it does because we've only eaten barely passable dry rations and dirty water for the past few days." He says with a large smile on his face, glad he can contribute to the group in a way that's not making a fool of himself on deck.
His face then grows serious upon hearing about our destination from Sheela. As he speaks, he gestures with his spoon in his hand. "If we plan on following this out, we're going to need a plan of action. If you ask me, I think the element of surprise is our best tactic, if we play our cards right, we may be able to be stealthy about it. I disguise myself as the Captain, Molly can walk with me without problem, we're taking Octo and Chandle as prisoners and Kallith can turn into a squirrel and hop in a bag. Find the girl, get back to the ship where Sheela and Skit are waiting for our heroic escape, Molly and Sheela can keep the boat. Everybody wins."
Dornin then stands up and begins to clear the table for those who are finished.
Sheela looks to Skit, "looks like we have some work still to do, lets get those sails up and under way. The islands are still some distance away." She looks around the lower deck only now realizing that Molly and Octo did not join them. "Ya think Octo could help with the initial hoist, his strength is most welcome. Really needed if we are to get this tub moving again." A sense of comradery, even respect has developed over the delicious repast. "They still up top, I woulda just thrown the cruel old codger over board and had done with it, you all should get some rest, Octo can join ya when the ships movin".
Sheela and Skit rise from the table, "The book, Captain woul'nt just put it on a shelf, he woul'nt. If its anywhere, it in that box of his, the one over on the other table." You k with the cleanin ?" she asks Dornin before pausing to listen to his entreaty. "Surin a good plan it is, 'ceptin we don't be knowin nothin bout the island." Clearly a little uneasy about just dismissing the thoughts of the Warlock she finishes, "Perhaps we keep a distance at first, the Captain had a spyglass we could be usin from a aways out to sea" She climbs the stairs, noticing Octo sitting on the deck with a rope in his hands.
"Gawds, she under again. Pull a couple mighty tugs, she not comin up you haul her in. She stay down there for hours. Or just tie her off, we can drag her till she rises. As creepy a thing as you seen under the sun, how she does it I aint knowin".
Octo looks over the railing where Molly jumped in, following the captain’s body. He’s somewhere between no thought, and too much thought, looking at the blue sea. Octo has never been much of a thinker.
After an unknown amount of time in those thoughts, he assumes Molly is gone, or downstairs eating with the rest of them, so he decides maybe it’s time to join them.
He thought he had assimilated well to the sun-lit world, full of bandits, cities of undead, rushing on to a ship, etc. The first time he heard of a ship was four days ago. But now he knew how little he has seen. For someone who lived his entire life underground a few weeks ago, the sea was terrifying, and exhilarating. He came above ground for the latter, the former was just a fact.
“Hey Octo, we could use your help hoisting the sail if that’s OK” Sheela said, coming up the stairs and tossing him a piece of cheese. He could hear laughter below, so he knew his friends were OK.
“Yeah, that sounds fine” he replied, wanting to go down and see his friends, to thank them. But he still needed time to work out some confusion, and physical work had always been a good way for him to work things out.
Octo worked, listening to Sheela and Skit, doing what they ask, relishing in it, confident that his friends are working on their path to saving the girl.
While he hoisted, lifted, and strained, his thoughts were on the captain…
His rage was real, his power was incredible, but what was his motive? If he wanted us dead, why did he allow us on board. Molly brought us on board, but if she wanted us dead, that would have been done by leaving us near the church. So, if the captain wanted us dead, but Molly didn’t, and we killed the captain, did Molly kill the captain? No of course not.
He pulls the rope a bit too hard and Skit yells at him to let loose a bit, and so he does, dropping back into thought…
This is why your Octo and not Tres he says to himself, intrigue, politics … figuring things out… not you… that’s his.
Kallith helps Dornin with clearing the table and scrubbing the dishes with a bucket of water. "You'll have to invite us over one of these days, so we can sample the craft of Dornin senior!" she says with a smile.
She nods along with Dornins suggestion, thinking that it was a good plan.
"Good idea about the distance." the firbolg agrees with Sheela. "I'll go check for that spyglass, sounds like a fun thing to use." Nobody had ever had a good use for a spyglass where she came from, so Kallith is at that moment imagining all sorts of magical powers such an item would have.
She goes up top and helps with small tasks around the deck to make it easier for Octo, Sheela and Skit to get the Folly moving in good time. After that, she heads to the captains quarters and rummages around to find the spyglass. If the narrow box Sheela had spoken of is still there, curiosity takes over and the druid opens it.
After eating once some of the others have scattered, Chandle checks out the box. If it is not locked or doesn’t appear to be trapped she’ll open it up.
Dornin fishes up cleaning up the table with Kallith. With Sheela’s assurance that they could handle the ship with some of Octo’s help and the others may rest, he hardly hesitates to take up that offer.
As he lies down for the night, he can still feel his muscles twitch from the electricity. He closes his eyes and prepares for meditation.
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With Dornin’s help Chandle rifles through a desk or sea chest shelves wherever healing potions might be found.
investigation 15
Wise as a serpent and sly as a fox.
Octo remains upon the decking, catching his breath as the others move about him, watching the blonde girl and listening to the conversation between Sheela and Kallith. "Chosen? by who? Aye the Captain was a man of his own destiny, cant say anybody chose him do to anythin. The message said to dispose of you, and he wasn't known for subtilty" Sheela begins on an uncomfortable note but grows confident as she speaks. "You all look like you need some rest" she glances at her crew mates, only three of them remain. "I think Skit, molly and I can get us moving, where you want dropped off?" She glances into the Captains quarters where Dornin and Chandle are poking around. "I ah, sure could use a few coins left over to hire a new crew" She looks to Kallith, hopeful, cautious.
Dornin catches Chandle, helping her to keep her feet. The room is cluttered with books, charts, multiple jars and flasks of unknown substance. Mementos and odd optical devices
tucked in here and there. The state of the room, just as it was left by the Captain before the raging storm. The tossing of the ship, the near collapse of the vessel did not affect this room. Was the ship ever in peril? Chandle flips the cork, or lid on a half dozen canisters, mostly alcohol, one a strange oil. The drawers reveal more papers and charts. Molly pops into the room retrieving a small box, no larger than her hand it appears as a tiny replica of a large travelers chest. Too many items stuff the small room to make it easy to search. Time or other more specific means will be needed.
Any glass bottles not alcohol starting with the odd oil, “Not every type of glass reacts the same to its contents, I’d like to study any non-liquor bottles.” As soon as she starts focusing on the residue and staining of the oil however she sees spots and gets dizzy. “Wow your captain really did a number on me! As for dumping us off however, no! This vessel though I loathe it will help us rescue our kidnapped lady friend, then we’ll talk about ownership.”
Wise as a serpent and sly as a fox.
Kallith gawps at Sheela, "You mean to tell me that this was normal? The man threw around lightning like he was the Thunderhead incarnate." The druid looks at Skit for support of the reality of the situation that befell them just a few minutes ago. She lets the equipment of the captain be, having made sure that the power he had wielded was innate.
Her eye falls onto the calm waves. 'They did calm very fast. Some sort of fey illusion?'
The firbolg turns back to Sheela, commenting on her needing rest "Yeah, I do."
As an answer to the question of destination: "We want to go wherever the other ships go. They kidnapped a woman, so we're after them."
"I've got no idea where we are or how much coin your captain had on the side. We'll need to work together to get this ship to a port. You got a map or navigation skills? How are our supplies looking?"
🥀Molly Munchausen🌊
In the forlorn expanse of the schooner's upper deck, under a sky that seemed to brood with dark forebodings, the Rhinemaiden lingered near the shadowed edge of madness and sorrow. Her movements were languid, her gaze intermittently caught by the unseen, her attention seemingly snared by the whispers of Nettles, the doll clutched in her arms. This eerie totem, crafted from sea-worn fabric and cold seashells, seemed almost to breathe sinister counsel into her ear.
Octo, lying spent and weary on the wooden planks, drew a curious glance from Molly. Her face, usually a tapestry of chaotic expressions, settled into a mask of mournful solemnity. With a silent shake of her head—a gesture laden with unspoken grief—she approached him. Her hands, trembling slightly with a mix of eagerness and an eerie calm, hovered over his wounds. The air around them shimmered faintly as she invoked a Cure Wounds spell, her lips moving silently in a rhythm known only to the sea and its lost souls.
Shortly after that, in the dim confines of the Captain's cabin, where the air was thick with the must of old secrets and salt, Molly made a brief intrusion. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, flickered with a frenzied light as she seized a miniature chest—a tiny replica meant for the depths. It was to be an offering to Umberlee, a dark homage woven with the threads of oblivion. Without a word but with a glance that bore the weight of the ocean's depths, she turned to leave the same way she had entered.
On her way out, the Rhinemaiden paused by Chandle, extending a similar gesture of healing and cast Cure Wounds her touch both a blessing and a curse. Her words, though soft, carried the chill of the deep: "Let the Meer heilen your Wunden." she murmured, casting a spell that knit flesh and fortified spirit. Then, turning to Dornin, her incantation Healing Word was a whispered lament, echoing like a dirge in the cramped quarters.
Returning to the upper deck, where the relentless sea seemed to pause in anticipation, Molly resumed her grim task. With meticulous care, she prepared the Captain's body, wrapping it in a shroud fashioned from a torn sail—a fabric now sanctified by the solemn rites of passage. The small chest, filled with memories and dark trophies, was placed reverently under his folded arms, binding his spirit to the eternal depths.
Her every action was punctuated by the doll's silent approval, its glassy eyes reflecting Molly's sorry. As the Rhinemaiden worked, the ship's planks creaked like the bones of the sea's countless victims. Molly's preparations were a farewell and a ritual, setting the stage for a dark sacrifice to the chaos she revered—the essence of her pact with the Fathomless, Brineheart.
OOC:
Octo 3 HP Restored
Chandle 9 HP Restored
Dornin 3 HP Restored
Sheela watches the lot of you, taking in the scene of Dornin and Chandle tossing the Captains quarters. The Words of Chandle strike a deep nerve it seems, she was hoping to simply drop you off and leave with the vessel. "The current charts are kept in the desk next to the Helm. And yes, I can read them, I was the ships navigator. Without the Captain or the First mate that makes me next in charge." She seems to choke on these words as Chandle mentions 'ownership'.
"Can you not just toss the dead mans quarters, he kept a few provisions and keepsakes in the drawer neath the window. It has a false bottom." Sheela considers her next words but perhaps a desire to engender trust, or simply make it out alive she continues. "His personal chest is under the slats, you need to move the desk to reach it, but Molly just took his most prized possession".
"Supplies are fine, the Folly is prepared for a several weeks voyage for near a dozen, it will certainly hold until we reach a port." Sheela turns to Skit, "I know your tired boy, you done good. Our guests have a need and we are to help them, lets hoist those sails and get er underway." She has a resigned air, but also one that has thrown off a yoke of oppression, a new freedom buoying the spirits no matter what tomorrow holds. "Get some rest, we will reach our destination in the morning"
The drawer under the window does indeed hold a false bottom. A bottom with a pair of vials, one an oily purple viscous liquid, the other a light blue sparkly concoction. A small dagger and a coiled and tied with hemp twine wrap of scrolls with arcane writings.
The Desk is heavy and takes a few shoves to push aside, the plank lifts easily revealing a long thin box the length of an arm.
Molly, I believe that’s what the captain called her, he thinks as he watches her in her mourning ritual. As she turns and starts walking towards him, Octo waits. Her body language confuses the minotaur, but her intentions do not seem aggressive.
She stands next to him and begins speaking. Even this close, he has no idea what she is saying. She sounds like the sea. Is that possible? His right eye, still painful and twitching from the lightning, immediately feels better, his vision coming into focus.
“Thank you, my name is Octo,” he says as the girl, as Molly, moves back to the captain’s body.
Octo slowly stands, trying to remember what else had transpired in the fight while he was trading blows with the captain. He has no doubt that he only stands now, because of Kallith’s healing magic, again. Chandle was climbing the mast, trying to untie sails and Dornin’s magical blasts were smashing into the captain’s chest.
Kallith is talking to the one named Sheela, and he saw Dornin and Chandle go below deck, so there doesn't seems to be any imminent danger.
Octo glances at his axe lying 6 feet away and decides to leave it for now, it’s not the time for weapons. He moves towards the captain and Molly, very slowly. He doesn’t know the relationship the girl and the captain had, but it is clear by her actions that there was something.
As a contributor to his death, Octo is hesitant to interfere with Molly and her mourning, but her healing gift showed a level of compassion, and he would like to return the sentiment if he could.
He moves towards the pair, as Molly is wrapping the captain in the sail. Silently he offers his help in moving, adjusting, and positioning the body to allow for the girl to accomplish her task
If Molly seems accepting of his help, Octo will continue.
If she does not seem receptive, he will immediately retreat and leave her alone.
Dornin stretches his back, feeling his muscles attempt to pull back in to place, he hasn’t had a fall like that in quite some time. After helping Chandle rummage, he says to her “Alright, I think you got this from here. I am going to check the others.” As he speaks, a shiver comes over him as hears echoing whispers around him. He notices his back seems to have been fixed. He sees the young blonde girl, he believes her name to be Molly, stride through the captain’s office and is gone in moments. He still wonders why she chose to rescue them from the undead, it was unnecessary, yet she has done it with no demands of gold.
Dornin walks out to the main deck, sees Molly preparing some kind of funeral ceremony for the captain with Octo to her side assisting. Kallith talks with Sheela about next moves, a conversation Dornin would normally have a full contribution in, however, this day has taken a heavy toll on everyone, so instead of chatting he makes his way to a storage supply and grabs food and beverage and begins to cook up a pleasant meal for the group. Perhaps a warm meal may raise spirits after the time they have had. He prepares a table they all may sit at and gathers anything that could pass as half-decent tableware (candles, plates, napkins) Upon finishing, he goes up to the deck and yells out to everyone “Foods up” and shoots a friendly smile as he descends back down.
Kallith is intrigued by Sheelas words. "Without the mate? What happened to the rest of the crew anyway? What were you doing in Port Llast?" She looks over to Molly, as she seemed to have a role to play in all this too.
The firbolg is not interested in rank or ownership politics, so doesn't bring it up. As far as she is concerned, the ship now belonged to the captains family. If he had none, the ships crew could be counted as close enough.
Relieved that Sheela is practiced in navigating the vessel, Kallith nods and says: "Very well. If you know where the two vessels that the Folly was supposed to escort are heading, we can give chase without worrying about running short. What can you tell me about their destination?"
When Dornin calls for food, Kallith will prefer to continue the conversation below deck, for she is starving. "Thanks brother, I need this!"
Chandle takes the vials the dagger the scrolls and the box down with her at the mention of food. She is feeling much better thanks to Molly but food would be very welcome.
Having no idea about maritime law or how to deal with pirated property, Chandle thinks Molly aught to have more of a say in what happens now…
She watches as Octo graciously helps with the ritual Molly is enacting, respecting his duality.
Wise as a serpent and sly as a fox.
Between mouthfuls, Sheela grunts in appreciation. "Hmm this is good, simple but good. We lost our cook, and you make hoisting sails look difficult". A few more bits as she listens to Kalliths questions. "Well what happened to the crew I cant rightly tell you. If ya want answers, best ask the girl. A task that ill be, the words of Mad Molly are near unintelligible" She laughs a small strained chuckle, one who cares but is out of answers. Chandle finishes rifling the Captains quarters, dragging the pilfered possessions and the chest she dumps it on a table next to them then helps herself to the meal.
"We took the job of escort but I think the Captain had other Ideas. Soon's we got here he sent Molly to bottom of the Bay, she returned with a crusted chest. His dissapointment was obvious but me guessin it had an answer or somethin. Next Day the First mate took Molly and most of the crew into the dead infested town. Was gone a couple days before she returned with you lot." Her eyes seem to look back over the last couple hours since your arrival.
"Molly gave a small seal skin bag to the Captain, don't knowin if ya noticed. Had a small black leather bound book, size a my hand. I'm not knowing what it was he probably put it in that chest of his, the long thin one"
Sheela finishes her plate, pushing it away she fills her mug with a stale draught before offering a refill for any body wanting. "Strange they wantin to be dropped on a small island, Northern most tip a 'the Whalebones'. Its a chain of small islands, only a few inhabited. No where's near a port." She chews the drink in her cups before continuing. "Not knowin much a the island, never bin there. Only rumors and myths I heard tell. They say its haunted, but never the same hauntin from tale to tale. I's a knowin theres an old fortification atop a rocky cliff. In fact most of them Isles aint nothin but rocky cliffs."
The meal can be considered a Short rest if you like
🥀Molly Munchausen🌊
On the Siren's Folly deck, shrouded in the melancholic silence that followed the tempest's rage, Mad Molly worked with somber diligence to prepare the Captain's final voyage. Her hands, usually so wild and erratic, moved with a precision that belied her chaotic nature. Each fold of the sailcloth repurposed into a sea shroud was a whispered farewell; each knot a silent plea to the deep.
As she secured the fabric around the Captain's form, Molly chanted softly; her voice, usually a cacophony of giggles and nonsensical chatter, took on an eerie tone. Her mutterings were soft, infused with the madness only she could manifest. "Muhen, muhen," she giggled, the sound more akin to the lowing of a cow.
The Rhinemaiden did not pause to share her thoughts or explain her actions to those who watched; instead, she communicated through the somber choreography of her grief. Beneath the Captain's folded arms, she placed his treasured keepsake—a small box filled with memories and dreams—enshrouding it with his mortal remains as a token of passage.
Heeding the whispered urgings of her doll Nettles, Molly secured the same rope around her waist—the one used when the Captain had her dive in Port Llast's bay to retrieve a sunken chest. Entrusting the other end of the rope to Octo, she gave a solemn nod, her face a mask of resolve rarely seen on the chaotic maiden.
With a grace that belied her usual tumult, Molly gently pushed the Captain's weighted shrouded form off the deck, watching as it slipped into the sea's embrace. She then dove into the water herself, her figure slicing through the waves with purpose.
Beneath the shadowy embrace of the deep ocean, an eerie tableau unfolds. A colossal Kraken dominates the scene, its immense tentacles stretching out like dark whispers into the murky abyss. Each limb, barnacled and scarred, moves with the slow, menacing grace of a creature born of the sea's deepest crypts. The creature's hide, a rough, mottled canvas, melds with the gloomy water surrounding it, making the Kraken part predator, part phantom of the deep. Shadows cling to its form, punctuated by the unsettling glow of its eyes—twin orbs of malevolent amber that burn with intelligence as ancient as the ocean itself. The dark silhouette of a Kraken awaited—a monstrous guardian of the deep, its tentacle slowly uncoiling towards the sinking enshrouded body along with his most prized possession... both serving as Molly's offering to the ocean as a somber sacrifice to the deep, to Umberlee. Here, amidst the cold silence of the underwater realm, the scene unfolds with a chilling grace, a reminder of the sea’s eternal claim over all who dare traverse its depths.
Molly's descent was both a literal and metaphorical plunge into the abyss of the sea and the emotional depths of her own psyche. As one of the great beast's tentacles reached the sinking shroud, the moment hung suspended—a haunting tableau of Molly, the sea, and the monstrous creature intertwined in a dance of fate and sacrifice.
As Molly watched the captain's shrouded form disappear into the murky depths, a whirlwind of emotions swept through her. There was a peculiar thrill in the ritual, a resonance with the unpredictable currents she so often navigated within her own mind. Yet, amidst the excitement, a shadow of sorrow lingered, a soft, haunting melody of loss for the captain who had, despite his tyranny, been a constant in her chaotic world. The sea, ever a reflection of Molly's inner tempest, now seemed to swell with her tumult—a surface both calm and menacing, mirroring the depth of her turmoil. Her heart beat in sync with the ocean's capricious pulse; each throb a somber ode to her dance with the untamable, the unpredictable.
Above the waves, the ship, now bereft of its Captain and caught in the aftermath of Molly's ritual, bobbed quietly on the vast, enigmatic sea, its future as uncertain as the fate of its fallen master.
“Thank you for the food.” Chandle leans against a post or wall feeling the muscles no longer cramping and spasming. “So Molly and the Captain, they were close? I had a pretty interesting relationship with my kin back home too. Is Molly okay? Sheela I’m sorry if I ruffled your feathers, I know nothing about ship or life at sea, you’re probably right about who takes over, I just don’t want my friends an I brushed aside. We need to get back the young woman who was snatched.”
Wise as a serpent and sly as a fox.
"A remote island chain..." Kallith repeats to herself. She was worried and excited at the same time. The only islands the druid had ever seen was the small hillock in the middle of the local lake and the occasional ice floe. An arduous odyssee this may prove to be, but also an interesting one. Visions and ideas of sights that they would see flash in Kalliths mind as she eats.
With something warm in her stomach and the constant shouting of the captain in the past, the firbolg is relaxed once more, live energies slowly gathering once more. Even here, where no land was to be seen, Iallanis' presence was being felt.
"That's good Dornin. Do you cook a lot? I took you for the reading type, not the doing type!" Kallith says with a glint in her eye, which communicates that she meant it in good spirit.
As Sheela mentions the book, the firbolg looks into the round. She hadn't entered the captains quarters, so she asks: "Did anyone find that box and the book? Perhaps we'll get some answers from it."
She nods along as Chandle speaks.
[Kallith recuperates during the meal, taking the offer of a short rest]
Dornin gulps back the last of his food, scraping the bowl. "Ha! Very funny Kallith, I'll have you know my father was an excellent cook and can make my finest meal look like a week old rat trap. My books were important but he made sure that I had other skills too. Besides, this meal only tastes as good as it does because we've only eaten barely passable dry rations and dirty water for the past few days." He says with a large smile on his face, glad he can contribute to the group in a way that's not making a fool of himself on deck.
His face then grows serious upon hearing about our destination from Sheela. As he speaks, he gestures with his spoon in his hand. "If we plan on following this out, we're going to need a plan of action. If you ask me, I think the element of surprise is our best tactic, if we play our cards right, we may be able to be stealthy about it. I disguise myself as the Captain, Molly can walk with me without problem, we're taking Octo and Chandle as prisoners and Kallith can turn into a squirrel and hop in a bag. Find the girl, get back to the ship where Sheela and Skit are waiting for our heroic escape, Molly and Sheela can keep the boat. Everybody wins."
Dornin then stands up and begins to clear the table for those who are finished.
Sheela looks to Skit, "looks like we have some work still to do, lets get those sails up and under way. The islands are still some distance away." She looks around the lower deck only now realizing that Molly and Octo did not join them. "Ya think Octo could help with the initial hoist, his strength is most welcome. Really needed if we are to get this tub moving again." A sense of comradery, even respect has developed over the delicious repast. "They still up top, I woulda just thrown the cruel old codger over board and had done with it, you all should get some rest, Octo can join ya when the ships movin".
Sheela and Skit rise from the table, "The book, Captain woul'nt just put it on a shelf, he woul'nt. If its anywhere, it in that box of his, the one over on the other table." You k with the cleanin ?" she asks Dornin before pausing to listen to his entreaty. "Surin a good plan it is, 'ceptin we don't be knowin nothin bout the island." Clearly a little uneasy about just dismissing the thoughts of the Warlock she finishes, "Perhaps we keep a distance at first, the Captain had a spyglass we could be usin from a aways out to sea" She climbs the stairs, noticing Octo sitting on the deck with a rope in his hands.
"Gawds, she under again. Pull a couple mighty tugs, she not comin up you haul her in. She stay down there for hours. Or just tie her off, we can drag her till she rises. As creepy a thing as you seen under the sun, how she does it I aint knowin".
Octo looks over the railing where Molly jumped in, following the captain’s body. He’s somewhere between no thought, and too much thought, looking at the blue sea. Octo has never been much of a thinker.
After an unknown amount of time in those thoughts, he assumes Molly is gone, or downstairs eating with the rest of them, so he decides maybe it’s time to join them.
He thought he had assimilated well to the sun-lit world, full of bandits, cities of undead, rushing on to a ship, etc. The first time he heard of a ship was four days ago. But now he knew how little he has seen. For someone who lived his entire life underground a few weeks ago, the sea was terrifying, and exhilarating. He came above ground for the latter, the former was just a fact.
“Hey Octo, we could use your help hoisting the sail if that’s OK” Sheela said, coming up the stairs and tossing him a piece of cheese. He could hear laughter below, so he knew his friends were OK.
“Yeah, that sounds fine” he replied, wanting to go down and see his friends, to thank them. But he still needed time to work out some confusion, and physical work had always been a good way for him to work things out.
Octo worked, listening to Sheela and Skit, doing what they ask, relishing in it, confident that his friends are working on their path to saving the girl.
While he hoisted, lifted, and strained, his thoughts were on the captain…
His rage was real, his power was incredible, but what was his motive? If he wanted us dead, why did he allow us on board. Molly brought us on board, but if she wanted us dead, that would have been done by leaving us near the church. So, if the captain wanted us dead, but Molly didn’t, and we killed the captain, did Molly kill the captain? No of course not.
He pulls the rope a bit too hard and Skit yells at him to let loose a bit, and so he does, dropping back into thought…
This is why your Octo and not Tres he says to himself, intrigue, politics … figuring things out… not you… that’s his.
Kallith helps Dornin with clearing the table and scrubbing the dishes with a bucket of water. "You'll have to invite us over one of these days, so we can sample the craft of Dornin senior!" she says with a smile.
She nods along with Dornins suggestion, thinking that it was a good plan.
"Good idea about the distance." the firbolg agrees with Sheela. "I'll go check for that spyglass, sounds like a fun thing to use."
Nobody had ever had a good use for a spyglass where she came from, so Kallith is at that moment imagining all sorts of magical powers such an item would have.
She goes up top and helps with small tasks around the deck to make it easier for Octo, Sheela and Skit to get the Folly moving in good time. After that, she heads to the captains quarters and rummages around to find the spyglass. If the narrow box Sheela had spoken of is still there, curiosity takes over and the druid opens it.
After eating once some of the others have scattered, Chandle checks out the box. If it is not locked or doesn’t appear to be trapped she’ll open it up.
Wise as a serpent and sly as a fox.
Dornin fishes up cleaning up the table with Kallith. With Sheela’s assurance that they could handle the ship with some of Octo’s help and the others may rest, he hardly hesitates to take up that offer.
As he lies down for the night, he can still feel his muscles twitch from the electricity. He closes his eyes and prepares for meditation.