Act I, Chapter Two: The Black Current

Seelah produces a dagger from her belt, and helps put a hole or holes in the orc boat.

Returning to the Netherthistle, after helping haul loot, our ebony erelander stows her shield, and Bladeguard, once again. Even in celebration of victory, it’s still important to remain hidden, for the next squabble to come.

Acemi, Seelah thinks to herself, as she watches the boat and dead orcs sink beneath blackened drink. Not everything can be redeemed, Seelah says softly.

"Well that is an exquisite bow that can't be traded. Matches well with that quiver of Orcian arrows. It might be wrong for any to use but I would gladly use their own bow against them. It doesn't mark me any to the worse. " Azote offers to take the Orcian priest bow & quiver of Orcian arrows. Surely owning such is a death penalty but if doesn't bother Elven Azote any.

She gladly feeds the eels with the orcs.

Elven Azote says to Seelah, "Let them return to earth where they belong. That is redeemed enough. "

Wexley waves Varin off, "Easy, lad. No sense wrenching your wounds wider for a sinking we can do at rope-length." He jerks a thumb toward the Netherthistle, "We lash this hulk astern, tow her out to deeper channel, then nick the line. The Ishensa will swallow it whole, any patrol that comes sniffing will see nothing but shattered timbers."

He uncoils a length of weather-stiff rope, "Save your strength for the next scrap, Elfling. Let the river do the heavy lifting."

Seelah examines the black talisman. Her guardian senses surely discerning its evil representations.
Perhaps the person of importance on-board had this talisman as well, our ebony erelander speculates.

Varin gives Wexley a quiet nod, the kind shared between men who’ve seen enough blood for one day. He lets out a long, tired sigh, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of fatigue and bruises. Around him, the others rummage through what little loot the orcs left behind, but Varin pays it no mind. Gold and gear mean nothing with a skull still ringing from a lucky hit.

He turns away without a word, boots heavy on the deck as he makes his way back toward the Netherthistle. The barge creaks softly beneath him, the air thick with damp river fog and the stench of battle still lingering.

Climbing down into the hold, he ducks beneath a low beam and crawls back into the narrow space he’d claimed—wedged between crates and an old tarp near the bow. It’s barely a crawlspace, but it’s quiet, shadowed, and out of sight.

With a grunt, Varin eases himself down, rubbing the side of his head where the orc’s blow had landed. The throbbing hasn’t stopped. He closes his eyes, jaw tight, and lets the darkness press in. Not to sleep—just to rest. Just long enough to feel steady again.

As Seelah studies the shark-tooth charm, years of fighting Izrador's forces let her recall the following:

Its runes name blood and obedience in Black Tongue, framing Izrador’s Hand.

Such talismans act as a legate’s holy focus and badge of delegated authority.

More troubling, the glyphs along the cord are scry-marks. If the gifting legate performed the proper rite, the charm can serve as a beacon: a simple bowl of water and a prayer would reveal its bearer's location.

Left intact, it could betray their course. Broken carelessly, the splintered hand may impose a lingering curse.

Destroying it with sanctified fire, or disposing of it in running water, are the safest ways to rid yourself of the danger.

Seelah sets the talisman back down. We need destroy this properly, she says, sharing her findings with the party.

Eventually taking Azote aside, Seelah says quietly, Serah does not trust you. She is wary of elves. All is well, just be careful when and as you speak with her.

The masked watcher, Bran, back at the tavern…that one was not looking out for us. We need be cautious moving ahead, others might be alerted to our presence and intent.

Mist curls across the water as crates, pitch, and the blasphemous bow vanish into the Netherthistle’s hold. Carefully avoiding the river's edge, Thaelin hauls the last coil of rope, looping it twice round the Shadow barge’s prow before hitching it to the stern cleat. He gives the line a testing yank, then signals readiness.

Wexley darts over the deck, adjusting rudder lashings and rigger the scything blade rigged to sever the tow, "All ashore who’re coming aboard!" he bellows toward the riverside gloom where members of the troup still linger. "We’ve an appointment after sundown, and we can't be late. Five-count, then the tide answers for the slackers!"

A gust rocks the partially beached Netherthistle nosed downstream, tow-rope taut, while the captured barge serves as a decent moor against the pulling current. Serah threads between crates as the Netherthistle rocks, a small crock of herbs cradled to her chest. Kneeling beside Varin, she peels back his bandage; the brow gash still weeps in thin crimson beads.

Serah of the Loom

"Easy now, brave one. This is comfrey and willow-bark. It doesn't taste pleasant, good thing we only need it for your hide." She stirs the green poultice with a wooden spatula, the scent sharp and earthy.

Varin grits his teeth as she spreads the cool salve along his injured brow and chest, yet relief softens his shoulders almost at once, "Rest while you can," Serah murmurs, tying fresh linen in place.

There are a few things that Jasir might spend several moments silently considering. The sharktooth charm, the longbow and arrows get contemplated for a moment. Seelah's appraisal and mention that the charm should be destroyed earns a nod then after a moment of considering the longbow he mutters. "Going to have to risk it."

He raises his hand and swipes his fingers through a couple gestures, bringing his concentration to bear in a casting of the spell Detect Magic, knowing that anything he detects could also be traced by an astirax with far more acuity than his minor spell. Assuming that the bow doesn't end up having traces of magic upon it he quickly loses interest in it and gives the area a momentary sweep with his magic detection before dismissing the effect.

If any of the arrows he fired are salvageable he retrieves them. But otherwise moves to dispose of any corpses. Rather than heed Varin's mention of the leaving their heads on... Jasir does not allow any orcs to go un-beheaded. "The Fell rise with their memories intact. I would avoid any possible chance of a posthumous report made by one of our fallen enemies."

The Sarcosan returns to the boat and starts to settle himself. "Necessity drove my casting just a moment prior. If you all would trust my judgement a moment farther, I might work some minor magicks that shall provide some small ease."

"Do your worst, wizard." He says overdramatically with a smirk.

Elven Azote suggests, "Would be best to use your talents away from the vessel here or you could mark it for days. Perhaps we can dock it someplace and move off to heal and cleanup using talents. Perhaps leave a false trail."

Jasir tilts his head to the side and blinks at *Azote's* mention before shaking his head. "That's... not correct in this instance," he states without a hint of doubt in his voice. "I have no plans to ensorcell the barge itself and the detection of instant effects are limited to the place in which the energy is channeled," the Sarcosan points out. "The difference is like feeling a rain drop versus being beneath a consistently leaking roof. A single droplet against a continuous drip."

The academic explanation is accompanied by a slow swirl of his hand and an instructive manner. So that other members of the group will know more about how the detection methods of the enemy work. He prepares himself to draw upon his magicks.

Petra remains silent except to agree with Seelah the unholy symbol must be destroyed.


How fortunate they are surrounded by running water to blunt any contamination that could arise from destroying it.


She thinks she understands Jasir to be using only minor magic with the faintest possible signature, so she waves at him to continue.


The iron and bow in the chest will be useful, but they are unlikely to be able to keep (and carry) it all if Thorn cannot.

She retorts back, "You see much with that talent, and it invades everything in its area looking for you. Like all it leaves traces where it has been. It is only how sharp the seekers are, that matters. And for that I would not put our vessel at risk. Wouldn't it be prudent to dock and do such there."

Jasir just blinks and shakes his head. "Astiraxes would not sense this unless within a close proximity... And if you're speaking of other methods of detection - the aura traceries of this magic will be gone even before we depart."

The Sarcosan finishes the shift of his hand and the mutter that completes his spell. Since Ulfr was the first to sign off on the use of magic, Jasir waves his hand in a sweeping motion towards the giant Northernman who gets to feel refreshed as dirt, blood, and sweat are removed from skin and cloth. A second wave towards the pilfered weapons and armor see them spotless as well. For the next couple minutes his gestures serve to clean and leave fresh. Which he uses on people, objects, and even on portions of the barge.

Everyone who assents in turn gets clean clothes, skin, and hair. Jasir leaves himself for last but his cloak billows up before he dismisses the spell well within the five count that Wexley had called out. It's a small thing, perhaps... but the Sarcosan seems to enjoy the opportunity to practice his magic and provide the comfort that can come from it.

Our ebony errelanger breathes a (Sigh) of relief. So elated to be clean and refreshed!

Thank you, my friend, Seelah says kindly to Jasir. I would have likely soaped up, in darkened water, if not for your kindness.

Squeaky clean, Seelah preps herself for further adventure!

Petra listens attentively to the debate about how the Astiraxes' abilities work.

It IS nice to be clean (and best to remove incriminating evidence like blood from the spoils), and the dwarrow smiles her thanks to Jasir.


"How much of the iron can we transport with us, and can the Netherthistle keep the rest? Actually as the daughter of a resistance smuggler I'm quite interested in the chest itself because of the false bottom--but I suppose that is too heavy to carry?"


To Seelah Petra asks "Do you know, does dropping that symbol in running river water suffice? Or should it be broken with a weapon while submerged, and its pieces scattered in water, to be sure it won't be recovered or spread an evil taint?"

Seelah replies to her dwarrow friend,

We’d have to be very careful trying to break the talisman, it could splinter off and incur a lingering curse. Trying to destroy it cleanly, while it’s under water, could be difficult. Running water, not the still water as the river sometimes is.

Or, better yet, fire, sanctified and blessed.