Cleo lets out an exasperate noise as she fails to locate the source of the bolt from below decks. She continues running until she's on the ship with Cyriel and Joy. It looks like the burly man has surrendered, which is good. The gnome didn't want to kill anyone today. Not unless they had hurt her brother. And speaking of her brother, where is he?
"Please, if you have my brother, you have to let him go," she says to the burly man. "He's a gnome like me. We're twins. He looks just like me, just the male version."
Her voice is practically breathless at this point, and she gazes up at the burly man with anxious, pleading eyes.
Lusia keeps her bow in hand, moving quickly along the dock towards the ship. Having seen the person dive into the water, she keeps an eye out for any signs of him beneath the water or surfacing. (Perception: 5)
(OOC - If still somewhat following combat rounds, she is basically attempting to Dash)
Assuming there are no more agression from the slavers, the young knight sheathes his blade and addresses the remaining crew. "Zank you, you made ze right decision. Now, vhere vere ve..." He says with a sigh. "...ze people you brought here earlier zat ve rescued from drowning in ze harbour, ve have come for zeir release."He states firmly, hoping the two slavers would shed some more light on the situation before any aggression erupted again.
Joy gladly sheathes her blade, kneeling down beside the fallen man. Before anything else, she tosses his daggers aside, out of reach—just in case. Then, with a steady hand, she places her palm lightly against his chest. A soft golden glow spreads from her fingers as she channels Pelor’s warmth, using Lay on Hands to bring him back from the edge of unconsciousness.
As the half-elf stirs, she speaks gently but firmly. “Easy now. You’re not dying today.” She glances up at the burly man, her hazel eyes searching. The way he worried for his friend. The way they didn’t fight to the death.
Action: Lay on Hands on half-elf for 1 HP
The half-elf stirs. He regains consciousness. Looking up at Joy, blurry-eyed, then across to his shipmate.
Looking back at the two remaining crew, she finally asks the question nagging at her heart. “Are you really slavers?”Her voice isn’t accusatory, just…tired. Hoping, maybe, that the answer isn’t what it seems.
You see a look of confusion on both of their faces. The half-elf gestures with his hands, some sign language to the burly man.
The burly bloke speaks. "We ain't slavers. We are Tar!" he proclaims proudly. "We ain't got the foggiest what they be down there, but they ain't slaves."
"Please, if you have my brother, you have to let him go," she says to the burly man. "He's a gnome like me. We're twins. He looks just like me, just the male version."
Her voice is practically breathless at this point, and she gazes up at the burly man with anxious, pleading eyes.
The half-elf looks up at Cleo and nods his head in the negative.
"They give me the shivers they do. They Ain't natural, that lot. " the burly man continues, "If it were up to me, I'd say take 'em off me hands." he pauses for thought, "But they belong to Lady Veyla."
The young knight gives both the burly man and the gaunt half-elf a scrutinizing look while trying to recall anything he knows about Tar and Lady Veyla.
Insight: 24 History: 6
"Ve are still listening, tell us more, if zey are locked up and you claim zey belong to someone, vhat are zey if not slaves? By vhat right do you keep zem imprisoned?"Cyriel presses on, not satisfied with the answrs he had so far. "If Lady Veyla is on ze ship ve need to have a vord vith her." He says with a firm but polite tone.
Persuasion if needed: 18 Another roll if help is provied: 12
Aisling steps onto the boat just as the burly man begins to speak, making her way to Joy’s side—perhaps a bit nervously, her heart still pounding from the fight.
When the changeling hears that these people are not really slaves, she exhales in relief. But if they’re not slavers, then why are there caged people? Peeking out from behind Joy, she timidly asks, "How long have you been doing this? How many people have you taken under Lady Veyla’s orders? And ... what do you mean by that lot? Aren't the ones in charge Tar as well?"
Lady Veyla… Who is she? Is she the tiefling woman Lusia saw earlier? Where is she now? Below deck, perhaps? That doesn’t seem like the place for someone in charge. Don’t ships have special rooms for captains and such? Aisling glances around, searching for one. (Perception: 15)
Meanwhile, she directs her unseen servant toward the hatches. Out of curiosity, the invisible creature tries to open any that aren’t already propped open, just to see if they’re locked.
Still concerned about where the foe from below disappeared, Leif surveys the area from his perch to see if any reinforcements are incoming. He hears the rest of the group below questioning the sailors and considers heading to the deck, but he wants to ensure they are not about to be ambushed by anyone coming from land.
Cleo is confused by the burly man's answer. The half-elf shakes his head though so that seems to mean they haven't seen her brother. The gnome's shoulders slump in defeat.
"He's really not here?" she asks. The others start asking questions about the Tar and Lady Veyla, but Cleo is still distracted with thoughts of her brother.
With no sign of the boy, Lusia walks along to just come on board the ship. She hears the others speaking with the people from the ship, but is a bit lost with references to 'Tar' and 'Veyla' and such. So, for the moment she simply listens.
ooc: Jack Tar were merchant sailors. The burly man referring to himself as Tar is telling you he is a seaman aboard a trading vessel.
Cyriel,
The name Lady Vayla sparks a childhood memory. You recall, as a young boy, it being late in the evening, the fire crackling in the hearth of your father's study, where you would often spend the evenings while your father worked. He had recently returned from a long expedition, and you asked him about his journey.
ooc: In your accent...
"Where have I been, boy? I have been to the edge of the world. Or at least, it feels so now. I have walked beneath trees so tall they swallowed the sky, through mists that whispered like a living creature. And I have stood before a house where the air itself feels like it watches you." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "House Rosethorn. The name means little in our home, I know, but it carries its own weight through the Flaness. Not the weight of armies, nor the weight of gold, but the weight of something else. Something older!A silent power that commands reverence." He leaned forward, his voice lowering as if the trees themselves might hear him from afar. "I spoke with the Lady Vayla of house Rosethorn. She did not meet me in a throne room nor at a great feasting table but under a bright night sky, in a clearing where the ground was thick with fallen leaves. No banners, no guards, no steel. Only her, in the stillness of the night woods." His fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair, restless and uncertain. "She spoke not of war, nor alliances, nor treaties, but of paths. The paths we choose, the paths we turn from, and the paths that wait for us whether we will them or not. I did not understand her words then, and I am not sure I do now. But they haunt me still." A flicker of something crossed his face. Doubt? Regret? You could not tell. "She did not refuse me, nor did she agree. She simply told me what was to come. As if the matter had already been decided by some unseen hand. And then she left me there, with only the winds howl and the trees."
For a long moment, there was only the crackling of the fire. Then, your father looked down at you with sharp eyes. "Remember this, my son... There are lords of land, lords of coin, and lords of steel. But there are others, too. Lords of things we cannot name. And when you deal with such, it is not a question of power, nor price. It is a question of whether you will still know yourself when you leave."
His hand fell heavy on your shoulder. Not unkind, but firm. "The Rosethorn's do not take. They do not give. They remind!"
And with that, your father returned his gaze to the fire.
"Ve are still listening, tell us more, if zey are locked up and you claim zey belong to someone, vhat are zey if not slaves? By vhat right do you keep zem imprisoned?"Cyriel presses on, not satisfied with the answrs he had so far. "If Lady Veyla is on ze ship ve need to have a vord vith her." He says with a firm but polite tone.
Cyriel, The man looks up at you. "No Ser! I have said too much. You must go!" He continues to tend to his injured ship mate.
When the changeling hears that these people are not really slaves, she exhales in relief. But if they’re not slavers, then why are there caged people? Peeking out from behind Joy, she timidly asks, "How long have you been doing this? How many people have you taken under Lady Veyla’s orders? And ... what do you mean by that lot? Aren't the ones in charge Tar as well?"
Lady Veyla… Who is she? Is she the tiefling woman Lusia saw earlier? Where is she now? Below deck, perhaps? That doesn’t seem like the place for someone in charge. Don’t ships have special rooms for captains and such? Aisling glances around, searching for one. (Perception: 15)
Meanwhile, she directs her unseen servant toward the hatches. Out of curiosity, the invisible creature tries to open any that aren’t already propped open, just to see if they’re locked.
The burly man is starting to get annoyed at the continued questions he doesn't seem to know the answers too.
There are no quarters, captains or otherwise, accessible from the top deck of the ship. Your unseen servant wanders around the ship. Prodding and poking a few places before returning to you. It seems the only way down to the lower decks is via the stairs in the centre of the ship.
Cleo is confused by the burly man's answer. The half-elf shakes his head though so that seems to mean they haven't seen her brother. The gnome's shoulders slump in defeat.
"He's really not here?" she asks. The others start asking questions about the Tar and Lady Veyla, but Cleo is still distracted with thoughts of her brother.
Cleo, as soon as you set foot aboard the ship, you sense something unsettling and unbalanced. It makes you uneasy.
Leif, You can't see anyone. You just know that a crossbow bolt was shot at you from the stairs to the lower deck.
Joy frowns deeply, watching the burly man grow more agitated. He is dodging the questions—or maybe he truly doesn’t know the answers. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that there are still people locked below. People who, when they had saved them before, seemed like normal folk—not criminals, not dangerous.
She glances at Cleo, seeing the slump of her shoulders, the way her hope crumbles. Her brother isn’t here. Joy’s chest tightens at the sight, and she briefly rests a hand on the gnome’s shoulder in quiet reassurance.
Her gaze sweeps to the others, her voice firm but uncertain. “I still don’t understand. If they’re not slaves, then why are they imprisoned? They seemed normal enough when we pulled them from the water.” She looks to Cyriel, Aisling, Leif—anyone. “So what do we do? Just leave them below? Or do we go down there and get our own answers?”
"If we don't get answers here," Aisling begins, "then let's check the lower decks. We can't leave these questions unanswered, can we?" She gestures toward the stairs at the center of the ship. "That's the way down."
Trying to offer Cleosome reassurance, she gives the gnome a gentle smile. "It's better if we see for ourselves whether your brother is down there. And if he isn't, we might at least find a clue. We're with you, Cleo."
After Leif survey's the area and doesn't see anyone approaching the ship, nor the sailor below deck, he decides to head down to the deck to regroup with the others. He climbs down the shroud, jumping the last few feet landing next to Cyrieland Joy as they continue to question the burly bloke. Leif considers interjecting himself into the conversation just so he can explain himself about why he fired that first bolt but decides against it for the time being. 'I hope they're not mad at me.' He thinks to himself.
As Aisling points to the stairs, Leif decides silence is no longer an option. "Carefull going down! Someone shot a bolt at me from below deck. Probably the same guy who was ringing the bell. He's likely waiting to attack anyone who comes down the steps."Leif's tone is worried as he looks at Aisling and explains what he knows. The young halfling then turns to Cleo, "I won't stop until I find your brother."
At that, without another word, Leif jumps over the deck railing to hang down and look into the lower deck from the same window he peered into previously. He tries to do so as quiet as possible to avoid alerting anyone inside the ship of his presence.
After Leif survey's the area and doesn't see anyone approaching the ship, nor the sailor below deck, he decides to head down to the deck to regroup with the others. He climbs down the shroud, jumping the last few feet landing next to Cyrieland Joy as they continue to question the burly bloke. Leif considers interjecting himself into the conversation just so he can explain himself about why he fired that first bolt but decides against it for the time being. 'I hope they're not mad at me.' He thinks to himself.
As Aisling points to the stairs, Leif decides silence is no longer an option. "Carefull going down! Someone shot a bolt at me from below deck. Probably the same guy who was ringing the bell. He's likely waiting to attack anyone who comes down the steps."Leif's tone is worried as he looks at Aisling and explains what he knows. The young halfling then turns to Cleo, "I won't stop until I find your brother."
At that, without another word, Leif jumps over the deck railing to hang down and look into the lower deck from the same window he peered into previously. He tries to do so as quiet as possible to avoid alerting anyone inside the ship of his presence.
Stealth: 20
Leif,
You peer through the same side hatch/window as you looked through before and can see the same barrels, crates, piles of ropes, stools, and benches etc. You are not able to see any people. But, there are plenty of places they can hide.
Aislingis curious to see what's in the lower decks as well, but since Leifhas warned them that someone is hiding there who is possibly waiting to attack, she approaches the central stairs as quietly as possible, but doesn't go down nor takes a look just yet. (Stealth: 12)
The shapeshifted half-elf draws one of her daggers and hands it to the unseen servant. The invisible creature is now holding a goodberry in one hand and a dagger in the other. She commands it to go downstairs and search for either prisoners or any armed person—whichever it finds first. Once it does, it will tap on the nearest barrel, crate, or cage to create a clinking sound, allowing her to pinpoint its location approximately.
Then, Aisling will signal the others to get ready, and then she will conjure the illusion of someone descending. The sound of heavy footsteps and creaking wood fills the space, hopefully luring out whoever is hiding.
Not seeing anyone from the window, Leif quietly slips through the open porthole and hides behind several barrels and crates stored inside the hull. His mind clearly focused on finding Cleo's brother. He peeks around the edges to get a better idea of the lower deck and to find anyone hiding nearby.
Lusiacontinues to watch quietly as the others go into action. With Leif moving below and Aislingseeming to be checking the steps below deck, she waits to see what they might discover. Joyasks the question she had been wondering, WHY are these people kept caged? Finally, she comments to the others still on deck. "These Tar say they don't know what these people are. One said they give him the shivers. There must be something abnormal about them. Perhaps cursed or stricken with some strange ailment. Maybe they only look human." While her statements seemed to have been made to the other group members, she was most interested to see how the two sailors reacted. She watches them closely to see if there is a response to her words. (Insight: 22)
Cleo gives a grateful smile to the others as they reiterate their willingness to help her find her brother. She can't help but feel that something is wrong on the ship though. There's something off, but she can't put her finger on what it is.
"Be careful, Leif!" she whispers urgently as he peers through the window.
Cleo is about to follow when Aisling gives her a signal. She waits and hears the sound that is created, a perfect copy of someone walking down the stairs. Her body tenses, prepared for whoever might come rushing out from below.
Cleo nods at Lusia's remark. "I feel something," she says in a low voice. "There is something wrong here. It's giving me the shivers."
Joy waits next to Lusia and Cleo, ready to hurry down to the lower deck as soon as Leif or Aisling find anything. Both the sailors and Cleo seem to feel something strange about the prisoners, or at least the aura around the ship. "A curse, or maybe a magical ailment...?" The Hexblood murmurs to herself, pulling out her Book of Pelor from her pack and flipping through it as she tries to recall anything she might have learned at the temple about such things.
"I know of Lady Vayla of House Rosethorn, and I understand your loyalty to her, but ve can not leave your ship until ve understand vhy you keep zese people locked up. If you insist on not speaking vith us zen at least do not interfere as ve make sure zey are alright ja?"The young knight says in a firm tone, glancing between the crew members.
Not seeing anyone from the window, Leif quietly slips through the open porthole and hides behind several barrels and crates stored inside the hull. His mind clearly focused on finding Cleo's brother. He peeks around the edges to get a better idea of the lower deck and to find anyone hiding nearby.
The porthole is a square window only 10 inches across. Too small to squeeze through.
Lusia [...] Finally, she comments to the others still on deck. "These Tar say they don't know what these people are. One said they give him the shivers. There must be something abnormal about them. Perhaps cursed or stricken with some strange ailment. Maybe they only look human." While her statements seemed to have been made to the other group members, she was most interested to see how the two sailors reacted. She watches them closely to see if there is a response to her words. (Insight: 22)
Lusia,
You watch carefully the reaction of the two men when you speak. The gaunt half-elf tenses and grasps his wound a little firmer when you talk of such things. And the burly man turns his gaze from the half-elf he is tending to the stairs that descend into the ship. You know these tells of fear. You have felt them yourself.
Joy [...] Both the sailors and Cleo seem to feel something strange about the prisoners, or at least the aura around the ship. "A curse, or maybe a magical ailment...?" The Hexblood murmurs to herself, pulling out her Book of Pelor from her pack and flipping through it as she tries to recall anything she might have learned at the temple about such things.
Religion: 20 + 5 from book
Joy,
You flip through your book. Searching for words or clues to jog memories of your training. Requesting Pelor's divine intervention about curses and magical ailments.
Passages of learning enter your mind. These were not of your enjoyed teachings, but as a servant of light, you must sometimes explore the darkness. Something you are all too familiar with.
The Chains of the Forgotten. A Curse That Binds the Soul. Ancient texts speak of curses that do not stem from necromancy or demons but from pacts and forgotten promises. These curses are not inherently evil, yet they linger like a stain upon the soul, preventing judgment in life and death. Those afflicted are neither entirely in Pelor's light nor lost in darkness. But trapped in between. Not truly damned, but neither are they free. They walk the world in a half-state, bound by old magic or divine hesitation. Pelor's priests have recorded cases of people whose essence resists consecration, their fates unresolved as if the final word of their story has not yet been written.
"I know of Lady Vayla of House Rosethorn, and I understand your loyalty to her, but ve can not leave your ship until ve understand vhy you keep zese people locked up. If you insist on not speaking vith us zen at least do not interfere as ve make sure zey are alright ja?"The young knight says in a firm tone, glancing between the crew members.
The burly man pleads. "We don't know!"
Joy,
As Cyriel speaks the name of Lady Vayla of House 'Rosethorn'... You know of this name. But you know it differently. Lady Vayla Ebonveil. You have heard the name in passing. Always spoken in soft tones, as if saying it too loudly might summon ill fortune. She was once a true noble of the Emerald Glade, but they say she bargained away her bloodline for something else.
Your hand still holds your book's open pages; the following passage is summoned to your mind. The Shadow of the Archfey. The Archfey are not gods, yet their power bends the fate of mortals. Some old prayers speak of those who have bargained too deeply with such beings, left neither blessed nor cursed, but simply 'claimed'. This claim marks them as otherworldly, un-judged by gods, and difficult to heal through divine grace.
Aislingis curious to see what's in the lower decks as well, but since Leifhas warned them that someone is hiding there who is possibly waiting to attack, she approaches the central stairs as quietly as possible, but doesn't go down nor takes a look just yet. (Stealth: 12)
The shapeshifted half-elf draws one of her daggers and hands it to the unseen servant. The invisible creature is now holding a goodberry in one hand and a dagger in the other. She commands it to go downstairs and search for either prisoners or any armed person—whichever it finds first. Once it does, it will tap on the nearest barrel, crate, or cage to create a clinking sound, allowing her to pinpoint its location approximately.
Then, Aisling will signal the others to get ready, and then she will conjure the illusion of someone descending. The sound of heavy footsteps and creaking wood fills the space, hopefully luring out whoever is hiding.
Aisling sends her servant below deck. You all keep your distance from the top of the stairs and listen as the sound of heavy boots thump down into the ship. Dagger and tiny berry mysteriously floating down into the dark with the footsteps.
The sound descends into the ship, and suddenly, you hear the familiar twanging sound of a crossbow bolt loose. And a bolt flies up and lodges into the top step. Shortly after, you hear the panicked sound of a voice, "Ahh, s-s-stay, away!" There is some clambering and crashing as if something was knocked over before the sound returns to silence below deck.
Leif,
It is dark inside, and even with your eyes adjusting to Luna's light, it is hard to determine what is happening. Still, when the sound of boots descends the stairs, you see movement across the ship on the starboard side. Scared by Asiling's apparition, a figure backs into some sacks and crates before hiding down a passageway that looks to lead to the stern of the ship.
Aisling,
A crimson-winged moth lands on your hand. You look down to see it disintegrate into black dust and blow away before your eyes as if your touch has destroyed the fragile creature. You question the reality of this experience, and the familiar chilling whisper enters your mind again. "You'd best turn back, for the Lady is near, and she doesn't take kindly to those who pry where they shouldn't."
Cleo lets out an exasperate noise as she fails to locate the source of the bolt from below decks. She continues running until she's on the ship with Cyriel and Joy. It looks like the burly man has surrendered, which is good. The gnome didn't want to kill anyone today. Not unless they had hurt her brother. And speaking of her brother, where is he?
"Please, if you have my brother, you have to let him go," she says to the burly man. "He's a gnome like me. We're twins. He looks just like me, just the male version."
Her voice is practically breathless at this point, and she gazes up at the burly man with anxious, pleading eyes.
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
Lusia keeps her bow in hand, moving quickly along the dock towards the ship. Having seen the person dive into the water, she keeps an eye out for any signs of him beneath the water or surfacing. (Perception: 5)
(OOC - If still somewhat following combat rounds, she is basically attempting to Dash)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Everyone, There is time to move onto the boat or wherever you like. Please let me know where you are.
The burly man looks concerned. He is listening.
The half-elf stirs. He regains consciousness. Looking up at Joy, blurry-eyed, then across to his shipmate.
You see a look of confusion on both of their faces. The half-elf gestures with his hands, some sign language to the burly man.
The burly bloke speaks. "We ain't slavers. We are Tar!" he proclaims proudly. "We ain't got the foggiest what they be down there, but they ain't slaves."
The half-elf looks up at Cleo and nods his head in the negative.
"They give me the shivers they do. They Ain't natural, that lot. " the burly man continues, "If it were up to me, I'd say take 'em off me hands." he pauses for thought, "But they belong to Lady Veyla."
The young knight gives both the burly man and the gaunt half-elf a scrutinizing look while trying to recall anything he knows about Tar and Lady Veyla.
Insight: 24
History: 6
"Ve are still listening, tell us more, if zey are locked up and you claim zey belong to someone, vhat are zey if not slaves? By vhat right do you keep zem imprisoned?" Cyriel presses on, not satisfied with the answrs he had so far. "If Lady Veyla is on ze ship ve need to have a vord vith her." He says with a firm but polite tone.
Persuasion if needed: 18 Another roll if help is provied: 12
Aisling steps onto the boat just as the burly man begins to speak, making her way to Joy’s side—perhaps a bit nervously, her heart still pounding from the fight.
When the changeling hears that these people are not really slaves, she exhales in relief. But if they’re not slavers, then why are there caged people? Peeking out from behind Joy, she timidly asks, "How long have you been doing this? How many people have you taken under Lady Veyla’s orders? And ... what do you mean by that lot? Aren't the ones in charge Tar as well?"
Lady Veyla… Who is she? Is she the tiefling woman Lusia saw earlier? Where is she now? Below deck, perhaps? That doesn’t seem like the place for someone in charge. Don’t ships have special rooms for captains and such? Aisling glances around, searching for one. (Perception: 15)
Meanwhile, she directs her unseen servant toward the hatches. Out of curiosity, the invisible creature tries to open any that aren’t already propped open, just to see if they’re locked.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Still concerned about where the foe from below disappeared, Leif surveys the area from his perch to see if any reinforcements are incoming. He hears the rest of the group below questioning the sailors and considers heading to the deck, but he wants to ensure they are not about to be ambushed by anyone coming from land.
Perception: 14
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Perception - 12
Cleo is confused by the burly man's answer. The half-elf shakes his head though so that seems to mean they haven't seen her brother. The gnome's shoulders slump in defeat.
"He's really not here?" she asks. The others start asking questions about the Tar and Lady Veyla, but Cleo is still distracted with thoughts of her brother.
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
With no sign of the boy, Lusia walks along to just come on board the ship. She hears the others speaking with the people from the ship, but is a bit lost with references to 'Tar' and 'Veyla' and such. So, for the moment she simply listens.
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
The name Lady Vayla sparks a childhood memory. You recall, as a young boy, it being late in the evening, the fire crackling in the hearth of your father's study, where you would often spend the evenings while your father worked. He had recently returned from a long expedition, and you asked him about his journey.
ooc: In your accent...
"Where have I been, boy? I have been to the edge of the world. Or at least, it feels so now. I have walked beneath trees so tall they swallowed the sky, through mists that whispered like a living creature. And I have stood before a house where the air itself feels like it watches you." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "House Rosethorn. The name means little in our home, I know, but it carries its own weight through the Flaness. Not the weight of armies, nor the weight of gold, but the weight of something else. Something older!A silent power that commands reverence." He leaned forward, his voice lowering as if the trees themselves might hear him from afar. "I spoke with the Lady Vayla of house Rosethorn. She did not meet me in a throne room nor at a great feasting table but under a bright night sky, in a clearing where the ground was thick with fallen leaves. No banners, no guards, no steel. Only her, in the stillness of the night woods." His fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair, restless and uncertain. "She spoke not of war, nor alliances, nor treaties, but of paths. The paths we choose, the paths we turn from, and the paths that wait for us whether we will them or not. I did not understand her words then, and I am not sure I do now. But they haunt me still." A flicker of something crossed his face. Doubt? Regret? You could not tell. "She did not refuse me, nor did she agree. She simply told me what was to come. As if the matter had already been decided by some unseen hand. And then she left me there, with only the winds howl and the trees."
For a long moment, there was only the crackling of the fire. Then, your father looked down at you with sharp eyes. "Remember this, my son... There are lords of land, lords of coin, and lords of steel. But there are others, too. Lords of things we cannot name. And when you deal with such, it is not a question of power, nor price. It is a question of whether you will still know yourself when you leave."
His hand fell heavy on your shoulder. Not unkind, but firm. "The Rosethorn's do not take. They do not give. They remind!"
And with that, your father returned his gaze to the fire.
Cyriel, The man looks up at you. "No Ser! I have said too much. You must go!" He continues to tend to his injured ship mate.
The burly man is starting to get annoyed at the continued questions he doesn't seem to know the answers too.
There are no quarters, captains or otherwise, accessible from the top deck of the ship. Your unseen servant wanders around the ship. Prodding and poking a few places before returning to you. It seems the only way down to the lower decks is via the stairs in the centre of the ship.
Cleo, as soon as you set foot aboard the ship, you sense something unsettling and unbalanced. It makes you uneasy.
Leif, You can't see anyone. You just know that a crossbow bolt was shot at you from the stairs to the lower deck.
Joy frowns deeply, watching the burly man grow more agitated. He is dodging the questions—or maybe he truly doesn’t know the answers. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that there are still people locked below. People who, when they had saved them before, seemed like normal folk—not criminals, not dangerous.
She glances at Cleo, seeing the slump of her shoulders, the way her hope crumbles. Her brother isn’t here. Joy’s chest tightens at the sight, and she briefly rests a hand on the gnome’s shoulder in quiet reassurance.
Her gaze sweeps to the others, her voice firm but uncertain. “I still don’t understand. If they’re not slaves, then why are they imprisoned? They seemed normal enough when we pulled them from the water.” She looks to Cyriel, Aisling, Leif—anyone. “So what do we do? Just leave them below? Or do we go down there and get our own answers?”
"If we don't get answers here," Aisling begins, "then let's check the lower decks. We can't leave these questions unanswered, can we?" She gestures toward the stairs at the center of the ship. "That's the way down."
Trying to offer Cleo some reassurance, she gives the gnome a gentle smile. "It's better if we see for ourselves whether your brother is down there. And if he isn't, we might at least find a clue. We're with you, Cleo."
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
After Leif survey's the area and doesn't see anyone approaching the ship, nor the sailor below deck, he decides to head down to the deck to regroup with the others. He climbs down the shroud, jumping the last few feet landing next to Cyriel and Joy as they continue to question the burly bloke. Leif considers interjecting himself into the conversation just so he can explain himself about why he fired that first bolt but decides against it for the time being. 'I hope they're not mad at me.' He thinks to himself.
As Aisling points to the stairs, Leif decides silence is no longer an option. "Carefull going down! Someone shot a bolt at me from below deck. Probably the same guy who was ringing the bell. He's likely waiting to attack anyone who comes down the steps." Leif's tone is worried as he looks at Aisling and explains what he knows. The young halfling then turns to Cleo, "I won't stop until I find your brother."
At that, without another word, Leif jumps over the deck railing to hang down and look into the lower deck from the same window he peered into previously. He tries to do so as quiet as possible to avoid alerting anyone inside the ship of his presence.
Stealth: 20
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Leif,
You peer through the same side hatch/window as you looked through before and can see the same barrels, crates, piles of ropes, stools, and benches etc. You are not able to see any people. But, there are plenty of places they can hide.
Aisling is curious to see what's in the lower decks as well, but since Leif has warned them that someone is hiding there who is possibly waiting to attack, she approaches the central stairs as quietly as possible, but doesn't go down nor takes a look just yet. (Stealth: 12)
The shapeshifted half-elf draws one of her daggers and hands it to the unseen servant. The invisible creature is now holding a goodberry in one hand and a dagger in the other. She commands it to go downstairs and search for either prisoners or any armed person—whichever it finds first. Once it does, it will tap on the nearest barrel, crate, or cage to create a clinking sound, allowing her to pinpoint its location approximately.
Then, Aisling will signal the others to get ready, and then she will conjure the illusion of someone descending. The sound of heavy footsteps and creaking wood fills the space, hopefully luring out whoever is hiding.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Not seeing anyone from the window, Leif quietly slips through the open porthole and hides behind several barrels and crates stored inside the hull. His mind clearly focused on finding Cleo's brother. He peeks around the edges to get a better idea of the lower deck and to find anyone hiding nearby.
Acrobatics: 11
Perception: 13
Stealth if another one is needed: 11
DM for Tyranny of Dragons and Phandelver and Below, two in-person campaigns that meet weekly on Friday and Saturday nights.
Lusia continues to watch quietly as the others go into action. With Leif moving below and Aisling seeming to be checking the steps below deck, she waits to see what they might discover. Joy asks the question she had been wondering, WHY are these people kept caged? Finally, she comments to the others still on deck. "These Tar say they don't know what these people are. One said they give him the shivers. There must be something abnormal about them. Perhaps cursed or stricken with some strange ailment. Maybe they only look human." While her statements seemed to have been made to the other group members, she was most interested to see how the two sailors reacted. She watches them closely to see if there is a response to her words. (Insight: 22)
Rabbit Sebrica, Sorcerer || Skarai, Monk || Lokilia Vaelphin, Druid || Liivi Orav, Barbarian || Vanizi, Warlock || Britari / Halila Talgeta / Jesa Gumovi || Neital Rhessil, Wizard
Iromae Quinaea, Cleric || Roxana Raincrest, Rogue || Meira Dheran, Rogue || Qirynna Thadri, Wizard || Crisaryn Melkial, Sorcerer
Cleo gives a grateful smile to the others as they reiterate their willingness to help her find her brother. She can't help but feel that something is wrong on the ship though. There's something off, but she can't put her finger on what it is.
"Be careful, Leif!" she whispers urgently as he peers through the window.
Cleo is about to follow when Aisling gives her a signal. She waits and hears the sound that is created, a perfect copy of someone walking down the stairs. Her body tenses, prepared for whoever might come rushing out from below.
Cleo nods at Lusia's remark. "I feel something," she says in a low voice. "There is something wrong here. It's giving me the shivers."
Extended Signature
Characters: Bryony Alderleaf (Phandelver and Below) ♦ Vesta Trevelyan (Vecna: Eve of Ruin) ♦ Ada Kendrick (Curse of Strahd) ♦ Gareth Blackwood (Dragon of Icespire Peak) ♦ Karys Velthune (Out of the Abyss) ♦ Surina Xarith (Simple, Heroic Adventure)
DM: Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus
Joy waits next to Lusia and Cleo, ready to hurry down to the lower deck as soon as Leif or Aisling find anything. Both the sailors and Cleo seem to feel something strange about the prisoners, or at least the aura around the ship. "A curse, or maybe a magical ailment...?" The Hexblood murmurs to herself, pulling out her Book of Pelor from her pack and flipping through it as she tries to recall anything she might have learned at the temple about such things.
Religion: 20 + 5 from book
"I know of Lady Vayla of House Rosethorn, and I understand your loyalty to her, but ve can not leave your ship until ve understand vhy you keep zese people locked up. If you insist on not speaking vith us zen at least do not interfere as ve make sure zey are alright ja?" The young knight says in a firm tone, glancing between the crew members.
The porthole is a square window only 10 inches across. Too small to squeeze through.
Lusia,
You watch carefully the reaction of the two men when you speak. The gaunt half-elf tenses and grasps his wound a little firmer when you talk of such things. And the burly man turns his gaze from the half-elf he is tending to the stairs that descend into the ship. You know these tells of fear. You have felt them yourself.
Joy,
You flip through your book. Searching for words or clues to jog memories of your training. Requesting Pelor's divine intervention about curses and magical ailments.
Passages of learning enter your mind. These were not of your enjoyed teachings, but as a servant of light, you must sometimes explore the darkness. Something you are all too familiar with.
The Chains of the Forgotten. A Curse That Binds the Soul. Ancient texts speak of curses that do not stem from necromancy or demons but from pacts and forgotten promises. These curses are not inherently evil, yet they linger like a stain upon the soul, preventing judgment in life and death. Those afflicted are neither entirely in Pelor's light nor lost in darkness. But trapped in between. Not truly damned, but neither are they free. They walk the world in a half-state, bound by old magic or divine hesitation. Pelor's priests have recorded cases of people whose essence resists consecration, their fates unresolved as if the final word of their story has not yet been written.
The burly man pleads. "We don't know!"
Joy,
As Cyriel speaks the name of Lady Vayla of House 'Rosethorn'...
You know of this name. But you know it differently. Lady Vayla Ebonveil. You have heard the name in passing. Always spoken in soft tones, as if saying it too loudly might summon ill fortune. She was once a true noble of the Emerald Glade, but they say she bargained away her bloodline for something else.
Your hand still holds your book's open pages; the following passage is summoned to your mind. The Shadow of the Archfey. The Archfey are not gods, yet their power bends the fate of mortals. Some old prayers speak of those who have bargained too deeply with such beings, left neither blessed nor cursed, but simply 'claimed'. This claim marks them as otherworldly, un-judged by gods, and difficult to heal through divine grace.
Aisling sends her servant below deck. You all keep your distance from the top of the stairs and listen as the sound of heavy boots thump down into the ship. Dagger and tiny berry mysteriously floating down into the dark with the footsteps.
The sound descends into the ship, and suddenly, you hear the familiar twanging sound of a crossbow bolt loose. And a bolt flies up and lodges into the top step. Shortly after, you hear the panicked sound of a voice, "Ahh, s-s-stay, away!" There is some clambering and crashing as if something was knocked over before the sound returns to silence below deck.
Leif,
It is dark inside, and even with your eyes adjusting to Luna's light, it is hard to determine what is happening. Still, when the sound of boots descends the stairs, you see movement across the ship on the starboard side. Scared by Asiling's apparition, a figure backs into some sacks and crates before hiding down a passageway that looks to lead to the stern of the ship.
Aisling,
A crimson-winged moth lands on your hand. You look down to see it disintegrate into black dust and blow away before your eyes as if your touch has destroyed the fragile creature. You question the reality of this experience, and the familiar chilling whisper enters your mind again. "You'd best turn back, for the Lady is near, and she doesn't take kindly to those who pry where they shouldn't."