Cursed Captains, Contraptions and Calculations

Erwen examined his new sword hilt. It was encrusted with barnacles and bits of dead coral, and here and there glittered small gems socketed into the grip and handguard. All in all, it was a curious weapon, certainly worth more gold than the druid had ever spent. As he admired it, he heard a voice in his head. Well now, a new recruit. Be ye Captain of yer fate? Be ye an Admiral of thine own countenance? Hmm? “Are you asking me a question?” Erwen asked the sword hilt aloud. A second voice joined the first. Why yes, we are asking you a question. Answer it, please. “Can you rephrase that?” Erwen asked. Be ye, a third voice said with what sounded like infinite tiredness. In charge. Of a crew? Erwen thought for a moment. “Nope,” he said. He was answered by a suddenly loud chorus of boos and arrrs . “Should I be?” Erwen asked. Then he heard a familiar voice. It belonged to Captain Mange. No, this is one of the damned fools who killed me. Well then, welcome to the Ship of Fools! This time there was a chorus of rude laughter and cruel chuckles. “Is that the regular name or just for me?” Erwen asked. We calls them like we sees them , one voice growled. “Are you my new friends?” Erwen asked. Friends? Nay, matey. Think of us as your shipmates on a cursed voyage to the doom of your very soul! “My soul?” Erwen said, the icy grip of panic beginning to close around his heart. Oh yes, for now you are bound to the Ghost Cutlass, the voice patiently explained. Best be keeping a close eye on the hilt of this sword and not be losing it now ! More importantly, don’t die while holding it, Captain Mange muttered. So, Captain Mange has joined our crew as well, has he? Another voice, dripping with mockery, broke in. Serves you right, Captain. Tell me, did the blade that slayed you hurt as much as the blade that you slipped between my ribs in that bar in the Jakhara Anchorage? Oh, is that you, Wavehunter? Mange replied. I hoped you wouldn’t be bearing a grudge. I’m got nothing else to do but bear grudges, Mange! Erwen counted on his fingers. Five voices? He turned and looked for Siegfried. “Siegfried?” he called out, his voice cracking with fear. He padded out onto the deck.   Siegfried continued to read through Captain Mange’s personal papers as Laurel inspected her new quarters. The bugbear pirate was a meticulous record-keeper as well as a budding poet. He found a scrap of paper, upon which was scrawled Pick up order from Hendevver's Coffins and Coffers. “That’s a coffin shop in Waterdeep,” Siegfried said. “How curious.” Siegfried’s attention was drawn to a recent entry that lamented the St. Asmod’s Hope encounter with the Redwater Jewel. “Oho!” the half-orc muttered to himself as he scanned the pages. It was supposed to be just another rendezvous. We were to meet Redwater Jewel in the open sea and transfer the cargo as per usual. But Markosian had other plans. He claimed he needed fresh blood, fresh sacrifices. And so, he forced us to put the Redwater Jewel to sword and claw and send her to the deep. This is not going to go over well with either my contacts in Neverwinter or my contacts in Skullport. But what am I to do? I am apparently no longer in command. I could barely watch as my men, overcome by bloodlust and deep in the thrall of the Devil Behind Thrones, did the dastardly deed. Markosian isn’t paying me enough for this.   Erwen found Siegfried poring over some paperwork in the ship’s forecastle, in a small but well-appointed chamber. An expression of unhappy unease was on the half-orc’s face. Erwen walked in with a sense of urgency. “Ah, Siegfried?” he said. “Small man!” Siegfried’s frown turned into a beaming small. “Something I can help you with?” Erwen held out the barnacle-encrusted cutlass hilt. “Here’s your sword back. I don’t need this.” Arrrr, giving up the ship so soon, are we matey? Ye haven’t even heard the best part of being a member of our little crew! A piratical voice mockingly chuckled. Erwen ignored the pirate’s needling. Siegfried frowned. “Oh dear, is that weapon cursed? I didn’t know it was cursed.” “Oh, no! It’s just that I forgot I could do this,” Erwen said. He popped out a bony set of claws from his knuckles. “So, I’m sure someone else could put this sword to better use.” Siegfried examined the magical weapon. The only thing he knew for certain was that if he had uncertainties about such an item, the man who could put him at ease about it was Undevver Thort in Waterdeep. “Did you have any difficulty relinquishing the item?” Siegfried asked Erwen. “No,” the Halfling shook his head. “It’s just that I hear voices in my head when I’m holding it, and I don’t like it.” Careful what you do with the sword! One of the voices said with a warning tone. You’re not going to want to lose it, lest ye end up like one of us. “Okay,” Siegfried nodded. “If you think you’ve been cursed, then Varien is the man you’re going to want to visit. Go tell him you’ve been cursed by this sword and he’ll remove it for you. We’ll get this thing looked at by my curse specialist back in Waterdeep.” Erwen gave Siegfried a serious look. “Just don’t let me die in the meantime.” Arrrr, this one’s getting it, getting it real fast! A voice sneered. Siegfried decided to unattune from the elfbane cutlass and attune to the cursed weapon. “What did you say to scare my friend?” He growled as he held the hilt in his hand. Be ye captain of yer own fate? A voice said in Siegfried’s psyche. “Do not insult me, dead thing, I am a king!” Siegfried said imperiously. There was a psychic sputtering sound for a moment. King, eh? Well, ye be in the company of many a Pirate King, so we welcome ye to join the Ship of Fools! A familiar voice growled. Ugh, this is definitely the one that killed me. “Captain Mange, is that you?” Siegfried said. There was a deep sigh. To my regret, yes, at least a part of me. “Okay then,” Siegfried said. “A question to all of you. If I were to snap this hilt in two, what happens to you?” Funny, no one’s ever tried that before , a voice replied. “Well, would you like to find out?” Siegfried asked. Well, ye just might free our souls, another voice replied, but I feel like this sword has ulterior motives and wouldn’t let go of its prey that easily. “Well, I know a guy, a specialist in curses, and he might be able to find out if there’s a way to free your souls. Is that a venture you would be interested in?” Pirate huddle! A voice called. There was a disembodied murmuration for a few moments, punctuated by several “ arrs ” and “ mateys .” Then a pause. Maybe? “Well then, if I have your cooperation and your honesty we can work together,” said Siegfried. You have been press-ganged into my service. If I find you to be vindictive, I shall be vindictive also.” Ugh, I hope somebody kills you soon, Captain Mange grumbled. “Lots of people try to,” Siegfried said. “Well actually, no you don’t want me dead, because then I’m locked in here with you.” Oh crap, Mange muttered. Another voice broke in. I would like some time to torture our mutual acquaintance Captain Mange here. Seeing as he’s the one responsible for putting me in the hilt of this sword. Might I have the pleasure of your name? “Siegfried Alagondar,” Siegfried replied. Well, Siegfried Alagondar, I am Captain Rhum'tijahn Wavehunter, scourge of the southern seas. “I’m afraid your reputation does not precede you, Captain Wavehunter, though you sound like an amenable sort,” Siegfried said. Seriously? Captain Wavehunter replied. There was a chorus of vicious laughter from the other spectral pirates. See that’s the problem, Wavehunter, ye didn’t have enough time to build your reputation, unlike some of your more esteemed colleagues like myself, Immurk the Invincible! Present company excepted, of course. Siegfried knew that Immurk the Invincible had died in battle against the forces of Sembia in the Sea of Fallen Stars, dying at the helm of his infamous ship, the Sea Scorpion some 280 years ago. “Immurk the Invincible? Captain of the Sea Scorpion ? Your reputation precedes you sir!” Siegfried called out. Well, at least I’ve got that going for me, Immurk replied. Erwen plugged his fingers in his ears and screwed his eyes shut. Two other captains introduced themselves as Aldym Avhoste and Asavir of the Nelanther. Siegfried hadn’t heard of Captain Asavir, who claimed to have been trapped in the sword for 400 years, but he knew that Captain Avhoste had also died in a sea battle against the entire Dambrathian Navy off the coast of Timarl in 1116DR. As near as we can figure out, this item is some cruel, capricious work of Umberlee, Immurk explained. “That sounds about right,” Siegfried said. Capitalizing on our greed, no doubt. We’ve had all the time in the world to puzzle this out , Captain Avhoste said. Speak for yourselves, Captain Mange muttered. I’ve only been here a day. Well, Mange, I’ve been waiting for this moment for ten years, Captain Wavehunter sneered. You are I are going to have some fun, oh yes, some fun indeed. A long conversation, indeed. “Hold on, Captain Wavehunter, you can wait a few moments more,” Siegfried interjected. “I’ve got some business to attend to. First off, hello, Captain Mange. Markosian is dead.” There was a long, drawn out sigh. Well, that’s actually not the worst news I’ve ever heard. “Yes, I gathered that from reading through your papers,” Siegfried said. Hey now, those are private! “No they’re not, they’re mine because you’re dead,” Siegfried said. “That’s how this works.” All right. “Spoken like a true pirate,” Erwen said with a raised eyebrow. “Spoken like a king!” Siegfried corrected. Well, some of us are Pirate Kings, after all. “There are similarities,” Siegfried admitted. “Both a King and a Pirate King must live a life more vivid than any other and be a figure for all to admire.” It is, it is a glorious thing to be a Pirate King. “Absolutely!” Siegfried said. “One must collect the envy of all their crew, and stand as their guide. No Captain or King should die or be alone alive or in death. Our will equals the will of all our followers combined. Am I wrong?” Yer quite well-spoken, it seems. “I am,” Siegfried said. “I am also a man of my word. If we commit to working together, I will find a way to free all of us from this curse. But if we scrabble like crabs and each pull the other back into the bucket that is this gilded hilt, then we’ll all be damned forever.” Arrrr, well, I wish someone had killed you sooner so that we’d have the pleasure of your thoughts on this important matter, Captain Immurk said. “Mange, I am also Siegfried Thann of House Thann, and apparently you’ve had some business with my family. I would like to know more about this.” Captain Mange chuckled darkly. Oh ho ho, I’m not sure that ye do. “Well, in that case, I could just toss this hilt overboard and lose it to the darkest depths, and we’ll all be trapped in it forever so that we can needle you for all eternity. An eternity of misery.” Siegfried countered. Oh, this weapon has a nasty habit of turning up like a bad copper piece, Mange snarled. “Yes, I will probably have to encase this thing in cement first,” Siegfried said. “Captains! I ask you to work Mange over for a spell and let me know when his attitude towards his eternal imprisonment has ameliorated somewhat. You’ll find I run a tight ship.” He pocketed the hilt and carried on with the busines of the day. “Are we good now?” Erwen asked. “I’m sorry,” Siegfried said. “The spell I use doesn’t detect when there’s a curse underneath it. The same thing happened to that mask a while back.” “What are you going to do with the other one?” Erwen asked. “The elfbane cutlass?” Siegfried said. “I could give it to you if you want. I also have a staff if you want.” “I have a staff already,” Erwen said. “It’s good for leaning on.” He looked at his hands again, popping out the knuckle-blades. “I think I’m good, actually.” “Go talk to Varien about that curse of yours,” Siegfried said. Erwen nodded and walked out. “Varien!” he called out.   Alec, his long hair blowing in the wind, helped to mop the carnage from the forecastle.

Varien was seated at the aftcastle, his legs dangling over the stern of the ship, watching the blood-streaked wake of the St. Asmod’s Hope as it was towed by the Tide-Runner . In his hands he held the iron flask . He inspected it. The brass stopper was sealed fast in the neck of the flask. The flask was inscribed with ceremonial religious markings of Lathander. He wasn’t sure if the inscriptions were meant to be wards or were merely ornamental, but he surmised that the vessel was intended for use by priests or clerics of the Morninglord to contain evil. He saw a reference to something called the Order of the Aster inscribed along the neck of the flask. Varien knew that iron flasks were items of legendary import imbued with strong enchantments. Even through his gauntlets he could feel the flask steaming any time a spray of seawater coated it. Varien recalled that Markosian mentioned the Order of the Aster, holding it in low regard. He knew that the Order was also known as the Knights of the Aster or the Soldiers of Light was a militant order comprised of fighters, paladins and crusaders dedicated to the Morninglord. He knew they were holy warriors took particular interest in thwarting clergies of deities like Bane, Shar, and Talos, and didn’t like the undead, and he dimly recalled that he saw some of their symbols in Waterdeep near the main cathedral of Lathander. Varien pocketed the flask.   Siegfried gathered sweat from his brow, conjured a handful of salt and prestidigitated some ash, sprinkling them on the ground in a straight line, and then unsheathed Talon , driving it point-first into the ground before pulling the hilt upwards, extending the sword far beyond its normal length. The blade formed the seam between a set of ornate double doors that flickered into existence in the space above the deck. With a mighty push, Siegfried opened the doors and shouted, “Breakfast is served!” He strode into his new sequestered sanctuary . Siegfried found himself in the extraplanar entrance hall of his sequestered sanctuary , a massive, elegant ballroom complete with a pianoforte whose ivories were being tickled by an unseen servant with virtuoso abilities, and a central buffet table where a feast lay in wait. He walked past it without a glance, opening the doors at the far end of the ballroom where his throne awaited him. Settling in, he rustled through a sheaf of Captain Mange’s papers, trying to piece together everything he could learn about the pirate’s bloodroot smuggling operation. His papers spoke of how his ship would sail to Skullport under the official sanction of someone or something named Quid. “That sounds like Xanathar Guild work to me,” Siegfried muttered. It appeared that Quid had a contact with something called the “T-C-C” that was involved in shipping illicit goods into Waterdeep. “Damn Mange for not spelling things out,” Siegfried muttered again. There appeared to be a buyer for bloodroot, whose agent went by the name of Unger. “Unger?” Siegfried said aloud. “I do hope that isn’t an alias that Hart uses.” He shook his head; Unger was a common name in Wateredeep, but Quid was definitely involved with the Xanathar Guild. “Wait,” Siegfried said. “I know a Quid!” He knew of a flamboyant elf in Waterdeep who was a well-known gambler who haunted gaming houses in the city. “I wonder…” Siegfried said to himself. Then he thought of another approach he could take. He fished out the hilt of the ghost cutlass. “Captain Wavehunter!” Yar? “I hold in my hand a collection of the personal poetry of one Captain Mange and would like to conduct a reading, which would no doubt embarrass Mange beyond all reason.” Oh ho ho! You don’t need my permission to start waxing poetical! Wavehunter replied. “Mange! Would you like to convince me not to do this?” If a soul could grind its teeth, it would make the sound that Mange made inside Siegfried’s head. “Unless you’d like me to start reading excerpts, you’ll tell me who in my family you were working with,” Siegfried said. Mange was silent. “I can’t physically hurt you, but I can give your tormentors fuel,” Siegfried pressed. “We tried the carrot, now we can try the stick.”   “Varien!” Erwen called as he searched for the paladin. Varien heard him and he crawled back from his perch at the stern onto the aftcastle. “Varien, I’ve got myself in a sticky situation,” Erwen said. “What ails you, my child?” Varien asked. “I came across a sword and now I hear voices in my head,” Erwen said. “Ah, so you’ve been cursed?” Varien asked. “I think so,” Erwen said. Varien looked across the deck at Siegfried, who was pacing to and fro while talking to himself intently. “That’s nothing new,” Varien muttered. “That could be me, but I don’t have the sword anymore,” Erwen said. “I will heal you, Erwen,” Varien said. He placed his hands on either side of the Halfling’s head and cast remove curse. “Am I cured?” Erwen said. Varien nodded. “Thank goodness,” Erwen said, lying down on the deck and curling up like a cat. The salty air ruffled his matted hair. “Erwen, perhaps taking the conn for an hour or two will lift your spirits,” Varien mused. Erwen shook his head like a shaggy dog. “Nuh-uh. Absolutely not. I want no responsibility for anything, I just want to feel the breeze and relax, because if I’m on the wheel, then who knows what will happen.” “Fair enough,” Varien said. He relieved the sailor who was currently standing watch and looked over the pirate ship’s helm. It was an impressive array of levers, switches, dials, and other instruments. The ship’s control console stood on a pedestal off to the side of the ship’s wheel, like a tall desk with a slanted top. Installed atop the desk was a small ship-in-a-bottle model of the ship, surrounded by astrolabe-like metal bands that could be moved back and forth over the tiny ship to varying degrees. “This is by far the most complicated ship I’ve ever encountered,” Varien said, eyeing the bank of controls. “This goes well beyond azimuth and altitude. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that these little bands control the intensity of the enchantments blanketing this foul vessel.” He bent down and squinted at the inscriptions on the circular bands of metal. “Goblin,” he said. “Which of course I cannot read.” Tentatively, he pushed one of the bands slowly across the miniature ship. He noticed that the fog around the ship decreased in intensity until it dissipated. “I can read Goblin,” Erwen said from his spot on the deck. “The rest of these controls are labeled in Gnomish, I think,” Varien said. “Wait, Erwen, did you say you read Goblin?” “Mhm,” Erwen said from his slumped spot on the deck. “I need your reading comprehension for a moment,” Varien said. Erwen looked up at the controls. “This contraption is labeled “Silent Running.”” He pointed at the miniature ship surrounded by the metallic bands. “Each of these bands are labeled as well,” Varien said. “What about this one I just moved?” Erwen peered up and squinted. “That one says ‘fog.’” “Makes sense,” Varien said. “This one says “silence,” and this one says “divination countermeasure A”, followed by “divination countermeasure B.”” Erwen said. “Wow, those are big words,” Varien said. “This one says ‘teleportation countermeasure,’ and this one says ‘planar block,’ Erwen said. He thought for a moment. “These are properties of a permanent private sanc tum spell,” he explained, “and each effect can be activated at the whim of the person commanding the ship.” “Interesting, thank you very much for confirming my suspicions,” Varien said. “You don’t happen to read Gnomish, do you?” Erwen turned his face into that of the clockwork Ieirithyn gnome-bots. “Yes,” he said, a grin on his face. “That’s a lie, isn’t it, Erwen?” Varien sighed. “Also yes,” Erwen’s smile widened. “Wait you don’t believe me?” He sat back down. “Wait, Berrick is a gnome, isn’t he?” Varien asked. “Watch the wheel for me, Erwen. Don’t let anyone touch it.” “You should gnome me better than that,” Erwen said. He turned himself into a carbon copy of Berrick. Varien went to fetch the quartermaster from Markosian’s chambers where he was counting coins. “Do you have a moment to spare? There are gnomish controls on the bridge.” Varien asked. Berrick paused and shrugged. “I can spare a moment. Curious that there are gnomish controls, wouldn’t you say?” He set up his crossbow trap and then joined Varien on the bridge, where a second Berrick, wearing Erwen’s closed, was standing next to the ship’s wheel. Berrick stopped, wide-eyed, as he looked at his double. “Do I really look like that?” Berrick asked. “Am I a joke to you?” “Knock it off, Erwen,” Varien said. Erwen shifted back into his normal form and sat down. “So, we’ve already deciphered some of these controls, but there are a number of other labels that we can’t make out on the control panel,” Varien said to the quartermaster. “Indeed, indeed,” Berrick said, up on his tip-toes as he examined the control console. He pointed to what looked like a fish eye built into the console. The eye was inside a crystal orb filled with a viscous liquid. “That’s marked as ‘The Eye of the Aboleth,’” he said. Varien frowned. “The aboleths? Nightmarish creatures of legend? Monsters from the deep? Worse than Krakens?” Berrick nodded. Then he turned to a tightly-packed row of small levers that looked like a complicated combination lock. “That there says “Shifting Hull.” This button is marked “Anchor Control.” He pointed to a horn-shaped protuberance that jutted out from the console. “That says ‘loudspeaker,’” he said. “Huh,” Varien said. “If I didn’t know better,” Berrick mused, “I’d say that this ship might have been built in a gnomish shipyard, not to scale but to spec, if you get my meaning.” “Do you know better?” Varien said. “Well, I have spent a life at sea, boy,” Berrick winked. “Now, its lines aren’t gnomish in any sense, but gnomes were definitely involved in its construction, if these controls are any indication.” He tapped the cabinet that housed the control console’s innards. “There are probably miles and miles of cool little gears, cams and shafts running throughout the ship, and I’ll bet…” he paused and then frowned. “No, no, I can’t get into this right now, I’ve been holding a sum in my head for five minutes and I must return to my work.” He gave the console an almost longing look and sighed. “Father said I had a knack for tinkering, but mother told me an accountant I was born, and an accountant I shall be.” He turned and left to return to his treasure audit. “Before you go,” Varien asked. “What do you reckon this Eye does?” “Oh!” Berrick said and shrugged. “I don’t know!” “I’m going to touch it,” Varien said firmly. He pressed on the crystal orb, which clicked back into its recessed housing for a moment before popping out, jiggling the eye and the liquid suspension inside it. The eye suddenly shifted to stare directly at Varien. “I think I woke it up,” Varien said, staring back. He used his light cantrip to conjure a point of light on his fingertip, which he waved in front of the orb. The eye followed the movement of the light. “Varien, what are you doing?” Erwen asked. “I don’t know,” Varien said. Erwen got up and looked at the orb, slapping it. The orb made another popping sound and the eye turned to regard Erwen with a stony glare as it sloshed inside its liquid surroundings.   Somewhere else on the ship, Alec felt a twitch. “Someone’s up to something,” the barbarian muttered as he continued to mop the gore over the side of the vessel.   Erwen placed his hand on the orb and closed his eyes, casting beast sense . He heard a voice in his head. Ssssspeak the nnnaaame of yourrrrr intennnnnded recipient, a voice like a slippery serpent susurrated. “Varien?” Erwen asked, his eyes wide. Standing next to the Halfling, Varien heard a voice in his head. Connecting…Incoming messssssage. Then, he heard Erwen’s voice say “Erwen?” Erwen then heard the voice in his head again. Messssssage delivered. Pleasssssant dreamssss. “Wait,” Erwen said. “Is this a function you give to everyone?” Ssssspeak the name of your intended recipient. “Siegfried!” Erwen said. Out on the quarterdeck, Siegfried’s thoughts were interrupted by a telepathic message. Connecting…Incoming messssssage. Then, he heard Erwen’s voice say “Siegfried!” You may ssssssspeak , the voice said to Erwen. Hey, you might want to come up here, I know there are a lot of voices in a lot of people’s heads right now, but it’s worth coming up to the bridge and checking this out. Siegfried smiled. “Well, Captains, I was about to start reading some poetry but there is a matter I must attend to. Please continue your deliberations.” He turned and made his way to the bridge. Messssssage delivered. Pleasssssant dreamssss. “Can I give it a go, Erwen?” Varien asked the Halfling. He took his gauntlet off and touched it, feeling a tickle as something entered his mind. Ssssspeak the nnnaaame of yourrrrr intennnnnded recipient. “Mordai Vell,” Varien said firmly. There was silence for a moment. Failure to connect. Your intended recipient is not within range. Speak the name of your intended recipient. “No, thank you,” Varien said. Pleasant dreamsssss , the voice said. “Hello, boys,” Siegfried said. “What’s up?” He could see his companions crowding around a complicated-looking control console, their hands on a strange eyeball in a crystal orb. “Mange, what does the eyeball do?” Siegfried asked. He received a telepathic raspberry in reply. Siegfried rolled his eyes. “It’s some kind of short-range telepathy,” Varien said. “I wasn’t sure if I should mess with these divination bands.” “Yeah, don’t!” Siegfried said as he performed an identify ritual. While Siegfried cast his spell, Varien inspected the shifting hull controls. As a sailor, he knew that the draught of a ship determined whether it was suited to open ocean, coastal waters, or river travel. After some careful investigation, he discovered that the complicated series of gnomish dials, wheels, and levers could be used to reshape the hull of the St. Asmod’s Hope . It could, in certain configurations, have a full keel and deep draft for rough waters, or a draft as shallow as three feet to navigate rivers that almost no other boat of it could manage. And it could all be done without sacrificing cargo capacity. He surmised it would take about ten minutes of careful concentration to effect such a change. Siegfried determined that the Eye of the Aboleth was as fish-eye scrying stone. When a user attuned to it, they would be able to detect invisible creatures that approached within 200 feet of it, and it could also be used to send telepathic messages within the same range. An attuned user would also gain access to a magical repository of knowledge known as the Aboleth’s Almanac that contained valuable information about nautical information, tide tables, the position of celestial bodies, and trade routes, and in addition, could, once a day, case a limited form of the scrying spell to observe weather conditions and local activity at a location within 1,000 miles of the ship. Siegfried called Captain Laurel over to explain the device and forbade anyone from using it until a professional curse-breaker had a look at it, lest it provide an aboleth the ability to take a seat in someone’s brain forever. Captain Laurel nodded in reply. “Sounds fair,” she said. “ Unless somebody wants to be cooperative, Mange !” Siegried said to the ghost captains. “Did anyone else happen to pilot this vessel before Mange took control of it?” Sadly no. “No worries,” Siegfried said. “If you could get Mange to be cooperative that would speed things along. The rest of you gentlemen are being quite decent about this whole situation.” Well, we’ve had a lot of time to make peace with ourselves, Immurk the Invincible replied. “Varien, it turns out that if you die while attuned to this hilt, your soul goes into it forever, so this right here is Captain Mange’s afterlife. I am trying to get some information out of him, but he’s being a bit of a dick.” “Well you did kill him, after all,” Varien said. “From what I heard.” “I gave him plenty of outs,” Siegfried said. “I kinda want to attune to this,” Erwen said, his hand resting on the orb. “Erwen!” Siegfried said. “Have you learned nothing from the sword?” “I learned we can fix whatever happens to me,” Erwen said. “You can’t fix everything!” Siegfried said. “Some bad things are forever!”   Bob stayed with Skraper until the forcecage disappeared. The liondrake had curled up and napped, purring and snoring atop a pile of bones. His wings folded over his body and his tail curled back across his body. “Skraper,” Bob said gently. “What, me sleeping!” Skraper snorted. “What you want?” “I was going to ask about a saddle for you,” Bob said. “Any preferences?” Skraper grunted and looked uncertain. “Old master never tried ride me.” “Yeah, but your old master died,” Bob said. “Maybe that’s why.” “You raise interesting point,” Skraper said thoughtfully. “Maybe if Skraper had been nearby…yes, Skraper see where you’re going with this. Well, saddle must be comfortable, yes? Fur-lined. Any strap? Lined with fur.” “Definitely,” Bob said. Skraper raised a talon to jingle his bejeweled collar. “Skraper appreciate the finer things.” “Skraper has good taste,” Bob agreed. “You get it,” Skraper said. “Now, what do?” “You rest here,” Bob said. “I’m going to go talk to my friends and when we get to land, we can get you a saddle.” “Land, hmm?” Skraper scowled. “Skraper no like land.” “The sky is better,” Bob admitted. “Skraper grew up at sea,” Skraper said. “Skraper like the motion of the ocean. Land no rock, understand?” His eyes blinked slowly with each swell of the ship. Bob climbed up a nearby rope until he became hopelessly tangled in it. He called for help and was pulled up to the top deck by a helpful member of the Tide-Runner’s crew. “Curses!” Bob said. Alec watched and gave Bob a slow clap with his gloves of swimming and climbing. “Why don’t I have those?” Bob asked. “You okay?” Alec asked. “No!” Bob replied. He stood up and dusted himself off. He turned to Siegfried. “Siegfried, my cloak has a maker’s mark from House Talmost on it. What do you know about them? I’m looking for someone to craft a saddle for my new friend Skraper.” “They’re Waterdeep’s premier clothiers and furriers,” Siegfried said. “You have good taste, my friend.” “Didn’t we encounter a fur merchant on the road to Neverwinter?” Bob asked. “Indeed we did,” Varien said. “Right before we went to Helm’s Hold.” “Well,” Siegfried said, thinking. “House Eagleshield has cornered the market on tackmaking for mounts of all shapes and sizes. They make fine saddles. But there’s a place called Telethar Leatherworks in town that will probably fit your bill.” “Very nice,” Bob said. Siegfried cast a sending spell to his father, Millio. Captured the Asmods Hope, taking to Leilon for Ownership transfer. Found the Redwater Jewel was smuggling Bloodroot to Xanathar. Avenged RJ. Home By Tendays End. His father replied: So, finally got your sea legs. Lureena will be pissed. Shipping and secret-keeping are treacherous business. Come home soon - Magisters are asking after you. “Great,” Siegfried muttered to himself. “Better check in with my supervisor.” He cast a sending spell to Jalaster Silvermane, one of the senior functionaries of the Lord’s Alliance in Waterdeep. Captain of the City Watch, he was also kind of a sad sack who spent most of his free time nursing drinks at the Yawning Portal. At sea, saved Waterdeep from Devil Behind Thrones. Just sorting vampires and paperwork for the Asmods Hope, teleporting to Waterdeep to report to magisters ASAP. Silvermane replied: Duly noted, Stalwart Stingblade Thann. Prepare full report for Lord's Alliance. File upon return to Waterdeep, present yourself for debrief and remanding to Magisters. “Certainly, I can’t be under arrest since I’m not resisting,” Siegfried muttered. “At least at this point.” He realized the situation was going to require some further finessing, but he was up to the task. But first, to business. “Let’s get the crew into my sequestered sanctuary for a much-deserved celebration, deal with the vampire threat and then get to port,” Siegfried said to his friends. “Agreed,” Varien said. “The sooner we deal with these foul undead, the better.” “Remember, I have the keys,” Theryn said. “I can show you how I got down to the crypt.” “I’m thinking a sanctuary spell on one or two of you,” Siegfried said. “Bob, your driftglobe has a daylight effect, doesn’t it?” “Yes,” Bob said. “At least, I think so.” “Then that will come in handy when we enter the vampire crypt,” Siegfried said. “Then Varien kicks down the door, you turn undead and Erwen uses control water to splash the creatures into oblivion.” “I can twin a haste spell,” Bob said. “Or twin holy weapon ,” Varien added. Siegfried pulled out the Lightbringer mace and hefted it experimentally. “Very nice,” he said. “Not my usual loadout, but it will do. I can also play a countercharm to ensure that none of you are dominated by a vampire’s supernatural allure.” “Fiendsbane, do you care about vampires?” Varien asked. They’re not fiends, but they’ll do until the fiends get here, his sword replied. “Where am I going to get the water from? Erwen piped up. “Can’t we fill up the portable hole with it?” Siegfried asked. “We’re not going to fill up the portable hole with seawater,” Varien said. “Though I accept the premise that vampires and running water do not mix. I think you’re overthinking this.” “If you’d read Curse of Strahd you’d be overthinking our plans too, Varien,” Siegfried said. “Do they not teach children about the threats posed by vampires where you’re from?” “Siegfried, don’t panic,” Varien said, resting a hand on the half-orc’s shoulder. “We’ve got this. We’re going to knock the doors open, and then take out the vampires before they can escape. Easy. Bish bash bosh and we’re done. You’ll cast protection from evil and good on me, I will cast haste on myself and Alec, and Bob has cast holy weapon on Fiendsbane and Alec .” “And Bob should cast breath of life and scare the vampires into submission,” Siegfried said. “Do you want me to cast pass without trace on everyone?” Erwen asked. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Varien said. “And you’re sure you have the right tools for the job?” Erwen asked. Siegfried thought for a moment. “Well, vampires can be harmed by running water, and if a piercing weapon made of wood is stabbed into a vampire’s heart while it is incapacitated in its resting place, it will be paralyzed. Also, vampires take damage in sunlight.” “True sunlight, thought, right?” Varien replied. “I don’t think a daylight spell counts as sunlight. The sunbeam and sunburst spells, on the other hand, is actual sunlight.” “Good to know,” Bob said. The party assembled outside the doors to the crypt. “All right,” Varien said as he pointed Fiendsbane at the sealed hatchway. “Let’s do this thing."