Session 9: The Drowned Ones

 

With the enslaved workers now freed, Cuervo and Kit find those amongst them that are capable of sailing the ship and leading the people further into freedom. They name their ship The Seas Wind and vow that whoever remains on the open seas will always be in the debt of their liberators. The Fateful Six—FSU, or "Fuck Shit Up" as they had now come to call themselves—were back aboard their ship, leaving behind the erupting volcano and setting out into open waters. The sea churned with uncertainty, and the crew, seasoned by the chaos of their journey, fell back into their routines. Cuervo took time to check on the crew, tending to their needs and earning their trust through hard work.

A Course Set 

With supplies accounted for—enough food for a month but with brackish, undrinkable water—navigation became the next focus. The compass pointed northwest, toward Jotun’s Fang, a place of pilgrimage and trade, its routes governed by Lux, the Queen of the Great Sea. As long as piracy and deception weren’t their aims, the crew would find safe passage.

Meanwhile, Porthos shares a discovered  note from the captain’s quarters of the Rifter ship—orders from King Delkin to the Rifter captain—tying the faction of elves known as the Iron Chain to their past troubles. They still did not know what kind of elves these were, but Greyfell, under heavy guard, seemed a key location in their affairs.

Barnacles!

While checking their water supply, Mello discovered something unsettling—barnacles growing inside the barrels. As she peered into the water, her reflection twisted, showing her own bloated, drowned visage before snapping back to normal. Unnerved, she fetched Cuervo and Kit, who also examined the barrels. While they could see the barnacles, they saw nothing unnatural beyond that. Yet, as Kit stared deeper, unease crept into him. Was this connected to the cursed pearl? No—it was gone, cast into the lava, destroyed. But the sense of wrongness remained.

A Call to the Divine

Freeya, longing for a deeper connection, sought guidance. She secluded herself in meditation, willing herself to focus. As the world around her faded, ribbons of golden and silver light danced before her, weaving into an intricate tapestry. A soft, harmonious hum filled the void.

A voice spoke: “What is beauty, child?”

It was Kallae, the Exarch of arts and beauty. Freeya hesitated, to which the Exarch answered: “Art is a gift to those who witness and those who create. The giving of self to the world.”

The vision shifted to the vast ocean, then to the stars above. A single star shone brighter than the rest. When she returned to the present, she took time to process in front of her mirror, giving herself a much needed pep talk. Giving her reflection a high five, she pulled her hand away from the mirror, palm covered in seawater, her reflection in the mirror twisted—black eyes, seawater pouring from her mouth. She fled, running into Mello, who found nothing wrong with the mirror. Together, they sought out Kit and Cuervo.

Meditation Interrupted

As Blossom, Kit, Freeya, and Mello gathered to meditate on the deck, Porthos and Cuervo kept watch. The rhythmic ticking of celestial gears mixed with a melodious hum, guiding them deeper into a trance.

Kit heard the sound distorted—uneven, unnerving. They stood upon a sea of stars, celestial threads of gold and silver swirling around them.

“Time is motion, and you are within its flow. You are seekers, searching the waters of fate. The path is not lost, but waiting to be seen.”

Kit questioned how to change the path or reach the end of the sea.

“The answer lies within the currents. It is woven in the past and the present.”

Blossom noticed the water beneath her darken. The melody twisted, distorting as if submerged in deep water. The ribbons of light snapped like shards of broken glass as the deities were pulled away.

A gurgling, raspy voice echoed: “Oh little seekers, you pry where you do not. You seek to steal. The sea knows me, and you—you will know fear.”

They were violently pushed from their meditation.

Horror Below Deck

As Cuervo kept watch, he stood at the railing, looking into the sea where shadows lurked beneath the surface. Panic erupted when a crewman rushed up, calling for him below deck. Mello, Kit, Blossom, and Porthos joined him, while Freeya remained on the upper deck.

Three groups of crewmen huddled around beds—occupied by corpses, bloated and soaked, mouths filled with barnacles. The air was thick with the stench of salt rot, damp wood, and something foul beneath it all. Fear gripped the crew. There were no signs of struggle; they had drowned in their sleep.

As Hal disbanded the crew to their duties, FSU examined the bodies further, finding no attacks or signs of struggle. While they were busy investigating, they felt a presence in the room with them. Turning around,  another crewman stood in the middle of the room, bloated and waterlogged, silent, staring—dripping wet, eyes hollow. Barnacles filling his mouth, growing on his lips. Water streamed from his mouth as he gasped his final words:

“She is coming.”

Then, he collapsed, becoming a pool of seawater.

A Mirror on the Waves

Above deck, Freeya, looking to the sea, spotted something horrifying—a ship identical to theirs, its name matching their own. Worse yet, standing on its deck were eerie copies of her friends, bloated and rotting as if they had been submerged for years. They grinned, waterlogged and aware.

The rest of FSU rushed up as Freeya stood frozen, eyes locked on the drowned versions of themselves while their dead eyes locked onto to their living counterparts. 

As the spectral ship loomed beside them, Kit stepped to the railing, gripping the wood tightly, and called out:

“Show yourself, witch.”

Battle on the Deck

The silence shattered as the eerie mirror-ship exploded into bits, and the drowned ones surged onto the deck.

Cuervo took a shot at the Drowned Blossom, knocking her katana over the ship’s edge. She lunged in retaliation, her bloated hands swinging a longsword at him.

Porthos met his own doppelgänger in brutal combat, his thunderous smite rocking the deck. Blossom loosed a crossbow bolt at her reflection, but it missed its mark.

Drowned Kit raised a hand, unleashing a torrent of cursed water upon Mello and Cuervo. Cuervo gasped as the unnatural flood overwhelmed him, while Mello gritted her teeth, resisting the pull of the watery grasp. As Drowned Kit passed Blossom, she swung at him with her handaxe, but the strike went wide.

Freeya’s panther leaped onto Drowned Freeya, fangs sinking into the cursed twin, while Freeya’s words cut deeper with vicious mockery. Across the deck, Mello raised her hands, sending a stream of caustic brew at Drowned Mello, the acid sizzling as it ate into the rotting flesh.

Drowned Cuervo retaliated, attempting the same cursed water attack, but Kit and Cuervo resisted the brunt of it. The crew fired their crossbows, one bolt striking true into Drowned Cuervo’s chest.

Drowned Porthos dashed forward, slamming into Porthos with unnatural strength. Kit retaliated, his blade cutting deep into his own drowned reflection.

Drowned Freeya’s dagger flashed, stabbing at the panther, but the beast twisted away, snarling. Drowned Mello reached out with a drowning grasp, but Mello dodged in time.

The Fateful Six braced themselves. Weapons in hand, they stood firm against the rising tide of their drowned selves. The fight for survival had only just begun.