Arrival at the Swamp Shore near the Tomb

“Last call,” Felazo says, gesturing towards the large land mass to our left. “We can still in theory catch an ebbing into Hetha.” He gives a cursory glance towards Alessari and Hilan.

Sister Hilan looks over at her traveling companion. She seems uncertain, slightly paranoid, but doesn’t move to say anything. The pious sister shrugs. “I believe this path I’ve fallen into still has some questions to be discovered,” she says.

Ren nods. She can tell, the man understands better than the others what she meant. Intriguing. She mentally shakes that off. He likely just grew up under the Cold Fist’s vigil, and so he knew of the monastic missions, at least in theory. But Felazo doesn’t question it, even though he doesn’t truly know what she means. Sari understands the essence of what Hilan is trying to convey, that there is more they can learn together, even if she doesn’t get any specifics. Denlo, at least for his part, seems to be entirely not paying attention to the conversation, on keeping an eye out from the ship’s front. That said, with his masked helm on, it would be hard to tell exactly what he is thinking.

“And you, scion?” the captain asks Alessari.

The huntress shrugs. “Let’s return to this talk after the tomb,” she replies. She turns towards our watchful compatriot. “Den, get some rest.”

Felazo waves the pair off. “First, can you tack us about fifteen degrees to the right? The outward flow we need to hit is just minutes that way.” Den nods and walks silently to the ropes, beginning to pull.

While everyone else is distracted, Sister Hilan approaches Ren. “I did not initially take you for a believer of the Cold Fist,” she says.

Renalt chuckles. “Believer, follower, and worshipper may sit around the same table but they are seated in very different chairs. With that held in mind, I know the world well enough to believe in much indeed, even many things I may not follow.”

“How you phrased that, I can’t help but wonder: what about worship?” the pious sister presses.

The musician simply smiles. “It is a vital part to many peoples lives,” he replies without answering the question.

“So there’s something there,” she says with a smile much more genuine than his, “Or at least something to the question. I shall think on it and come back with a more in depth one.” Ren’s smile flickers ever so slightly, and Hilan knows she’s hit a nerve. She heads over to Alessari, who has replaced Den’s watchful eye.

The noble runaway hears her companion’s loud footfalls approach. “Sister,” she says, “What is it?”

Sister Hilan leans on the railing beside the elfish woman. “Sari, what’s wrong?” she asks, genuine concern written across her face.

Alessari looks over at the woman. “It’s nothing,” she replies dismissively.

The monastic woman looks at the huntress, with whom she has been traveling for more than a month by now. “I can tell it isn’t nothing.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, the silence surrounding the pair near deafening. Then, Alessari speaks. “Our new companions, they mostly aren’t that bad,” she admits, “But they are all very noticeable. And if that draws the wrong eyes to us, it could get all of them killed. While I might not mind if a certain musician happens to fall, I’m not sure I want the others to die because of me.”

Sister Hilan smiles and nods. “That’s good,” she says, then quickly tacks on, “Not the people dying because of you, but the care and the willingness to admit that. But look at them.” The priest sighs and gestures at the others atop the boat, only then noticing Den has already slipped below deck. “Every place we have docked with our dear captain, there has been someone who dislikes him. And when we first met Den, he was on the run from something. And Ren, something about his demeanor tells me he, too, isn’t entirely without enemies. So, you being the reason we all die is a coin flip at best,” she jokes.

The huntress chuckles. “I suppose,” she admits, “But that does still mean my hesitance is valid. I mean, we aren’t exactly subtle together.”

“Fair enough,” Hilan replies. She has a question to find and every conversation she’s had with Felazo and Renalt has shown her that being aboard the Ekzokia can lead her to many interesting questions. But she wants to help Sari, too, and she doesn’t want to put the woman in any more danger. “But if I were you, on the run from some scary but vague people, I myself might be tempted to stay close to the new pair of men, one who seems able to talk his way out of anything and the other who has yet to have any trouble in a fight.”

Alessari smiles. “Why do you want to convince me to stay?” she asks the woman.

Sister Hilan sighs. “Because I want you to be safe,” she answers her friend, “And unless you plan on spending all your days hiding in a random, unfamiliar forest or cave or the like, I don’t think you’ll find anywhere as safe as the Ekzokia.”

Sari sighs. “I suppose. But if someone comes for -” she begins to say.

Hilan cuts her off. “If someone comes for any of us, we can deal with it. For now, we just need to relax and figure out a way to deal with ghosts.”

The huntress laughs. The sister is glad to see her companion actually appear happy, if only for a moment. “We should be fine,” the noble insists, “After all, dead things seem to be our dear captain’s specialty.”

Hilan can’t help but chuckle at that. She looks back at their necromantic captain, shaking her head. He’s in the zone, moving the three different wheels around like a professional. He notices her watching him, and smiles, giving her a nod before pulling a lever by the wheels. “Sister, Ren, tack the sail towards that strange mossy rock, we need to start drifting that way to catch the circlet-current.” The monastic warrior nods, and gets to work pulling the ropes, while Renalt ties them in place. Once the sails are in place, Hilan sits down on a barrel, looking out across the water. After a moment, Felazo pushes the lever once more, and their momentum shifts suddenly. Hilan settles in, watching the sea, no longer empty and vast, but riddled with small outcroppings and distant lands. It’s still beautiful, but a different sort of beautiful. A less dreamlike, more tangible beauty. The small islands and reefs whip past at varying speeds, the close ones quickly, the further, likely larger ones take a bit. The fog moves across the water, causing visibility to shift rapidly, and some of those small rocky protrusions vanish for moments, only to reappear in a different spot. It’s a relaxing, fascinating few hours watching the seascape pass her by. With the occasional spurt of intense moments as Felazo shouts out orders on how to move, position, and set the sails to get them to move from one current to another. As the noontime sun hits, they begin to slow as the Ekzokia approaches a swampy forest with some kind of moss-covered building of stone and metal seemingly growing from the swamp.

Felazo looks at the building, furrows his brow, then rushes down from the wheels towards his room. Ren watches him pass, turns to Sister Hilan, and says, “Well, that be concerning.”

“Probably,” Hilan admits.

From her post, Alessari adds, “It looks creepy enough to be a haunted tomb.”

Denlo makes his way to the deck, stretching. “Cap’s muttering,” he says coldly, masked helmet already on though his armor is clearly not fully donned yet. “What happened?”

Before anyone else can say anything, Alessari points towards the building. Denlo cocks his head, looking at it. “That’s…different.”

“It’s a haunted tomb, of course it’s different,” the pious woman replies.

The killer shakes his head. “Not the one the captain expected.” Ren and Sari cock their heads, so Denlo elaborates, “The book Felazo is using had a depiction of the tomb. The architecture’s wrong.”

Felazo, shaking his head, returns from his room. “We’re in the right place. Best estimate, it should be about three hundred paces past that metal building. That metal building that shouldn’t exist. But the growth, it doesn’t look new.”

“I cannot help but wonder what it might be, much less what it might hold. Can you, pious sister? Answers upon answers, all without any questions yet filled with palpable confusion,” Renalt offers to Sister Hilan. Again, the words indicate a much deeper understanding of a true mission than one such as Ren should probably have.

“Let us anchor the Ekzokia first, then we can see whether it seems worth investigating,” Sister Hilan says.

Den nods, and begins to pull the sails closed. “What do we do?”

Felazo gives a whistle. Kalzia, in all its unnatural glory, skitters its way above decks. Felazo nods and whispers something to the small creation, which looks concerned for a moment. Then, the flesh along the creature’s neck splits, seemingly forming gills, and the small creature leaps into the water. Felazo holds up a finger. After a moment, the creature returns from the water skittering up the ship and to Felazo’s shoulder. They whisper once more, then the magical captain says, “We should bring ourselves a bit further in, towards that rocky overlook, before dropping our anchor. With the current-taker retracted, we should have the clearance, and I would prefer to minimize our distance from land, in case our departure is less a victory march and more a flight.”

Den nods and heads below decks. Sister Hilan follows suit. The pair take a pair of oars into their hands, sliding them out of the hull on either side and into the water. They both take a moment. “So, together,” Den says.

“On one.”

“Three. Two. One.” Denlo replies. On one, they both pull hard on their oars, then raise them once more above the waves. “Again?” he asks.

With a nod, Hilan says, “Three. Two. One.” On one, once more they both pull their oars through the water and raise them up. “Again?” she asks.

And they repeat several times, until suddenly, Kalzia rushes towards them, chittering. Hilan looks at the creature, then at Denlo. Denlo looks at her, then at the creature. “I’m guessing that means we’re in place,” the holy woman guesses.

Denlo stares blankly, his expression hidden behind the still present mask. “Likely,” he states, then gets to work finishing donning his armor.

Hilan approaches the killer. “Do you want any help?” she offers. Denlo looks at her and shrugs silently. Taking this as a yes, the human woman approaches the Elfi’ika and begins to pull his leather armor’s straps tight to get the armor ready. It still takes some time, but not near as much, and together the pair returns to the deck, ready for whatever awaits them on the land. Felazo sighs as he and Renalt ready a raft to take them to shore, and it takes Sister Hilan only a moment to notice why. True to form, rather than help out with moving the raft, Alessari was already in the water swimming to shore. Likely for good reason, like keeping an eye out or finding a place to hide the raft from any animal life, but it did leave the two weakest members of the party doing the manual labor. She shakes her head in the general direction of her friend, then moves to help the pair of less physically adept people in moving the raft to the water. Only once aboard does she also notice Den distinctly not helping. Den is simply standing on the deck, facing the shoreline, until the raft is in the water and the others are aboard. He leaps down, splashing into the water beside the raft, and pulls the boat along. Between his pulling and Hilan’s rowing, they make it to shore in no time, where, dripping wet in her tight leather armor, Alessari has been standing, bow at the ready with a notched but undrawn. “Careful,” the huntress says as those aboard the raft disembark to the swampy land, “Something isn’t feeling right here.”

The water shifts slightly and the raft begins to rise as, rising out from the waters is Denlo, lifting the raft seemingly with ease. “Did you spot a stash for the raft?” he asks Sari.