Guild Transport Ship – On Lake Jaga. Pax, 34th.

The Crew of the Minnoa

“Oy, Jessup!” shouted a thin man from the port side of the transit barge.

“Yah Ishmere, what be you yelling for?” shouted another man from ten feet away, presumably Jessup.

“Did Stan’s message say something about heading to North Jaga before we circle around to South Jaga?”

“Aye, we were told to go to North Jaga first. For the passenger drop off, poor lass been in a coma for a day or two.”

“That be a lot of rowing. I say we stick to the normal route, eh?”

“You want to abandon your duty, sailor?” shouted Jessup, unsure if he had heard the man correctly this time.

“Nay, I just be pointing out to ye, if she is in a coma I think she be fine to wait one more day. The current is with us now until the Turning, we should go east with the current instead of rowing north for a day. Besides, South Jaga healers are just as good as those northern types, does it matter where she gets healed.” Shouted Ishmere, for he had not lowered his voice from his apparent default level of oration.

“But the orders say- “

“Yah, yah. Orders is orders you say, I bloody hate rowing against the wind and current.”

“We all do Ishmere.” said Jessup, a frown on his face as he tried to understand why his fellow sailor was in such a mood. Of course, he understood that going east was easier, and it was the normal way of things in this season as the powerful and steady currents of the lake would always flow against the clock, as time pulled winter from the land as the priest would say. Alas, orders is orders. It was not their job to ask the questions, they merely rowed the boats to lessen the taxing of their single guild mage and his small mana pool.

“Oy, Jessup?” shouted Ishmere as he pushed and pulled at his oar.

“Yeah, Ishmere?”

“That girl…” he seemed to draw out the statement as if piecing his thoughts, “did anyone say what happened to ‘er?”

“Nay, above my pay grade, and yours.”

“It do usually be that way.” Sighed Ishmere. “It’s just that, I dunna remember when last I heard someone was in a coma, least not without a large amount of ale. I’m thinking’ that don’t count though.”

“It do seem odd, Ishmere. I’d wager it be something to do with magic, that or someone knocked ‘er on the noggin.”

“It still don’t make no sense as to the why, Jessup.” Groused Ishmere, apparently switching topics again. “Why send her north, I know guild protocol well enough to know that we should be getting her the fastest available healing. This doesn’t fit.”

“Stan’s name is on the papers, mate.”

“Stan’s a right fool, but he should have ordered her to South Jaga.”

“You just hate rowing extra.” Said Jessup, trying to switch the mood of the conversation. Questioning the higher ups was a good way to get tossed to a different detail and Jessup much preferred the smell of the lake over the smell of the offal that was common to fighting the beasts that would occasionally visit their region. Sure, he could seek work elsewhere, the guild was not the only gig in town but it paid the best and he preferred this job as it kept him coming back to his wife and child safely every other day.

“Yeah, I do. It still makes no sense.”

“Just row.”

“What’s the problem, guys?” came a new voice. This time it was Steve, the guild mage. The term mage was used loosely as he had started his career focusing on more martial aspects and as such had a smaller than normal number of spells for his veteran level. A small number of spells as well as a lack of mage oriented stat allocations.

“No problem, Steve-o.” Jessup said. “Just debating the winds and such, Ishmere is a right proper font of curiosity today.”

“Aye,” chimed in Ishmere, “the wind seems more colorful today, current is extra loud too.”

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“The wind is colorful?” asked Steve, uncertain as to the meaning of the words spouted out by Ishmere.

“Aye, and the water is way too loud.” He added in again.

“Far too loud, I agree.” Jessup said, nodding as he pulled back his row for another steady stroke.

“You folks been sipping the juice on the job?” asked a confused looking Steve.

“No sips here.” Ishmere said into the wind as he continued to row, staring aft as he pushed and pulled at the stout pole.

“What he said,” Jessup added as he tried his best to match the unexpected pace of rowing set by his friend, “no sips, just a lovely day to smell the sunlight.”

Ishmere let out a noise that may have been a laugh but came across more like a grunt while pulling at the fifteen-foot oar.

“You bastards, I was starting to think you all had lost your wits like that damned elf-girl.”

Jessup groaned as Ishmere straightened in his seat by a fraction, barely slowing in his pace. Steve did not notice the change in posture, but Jessup knew Ishmere loved gossip and loose tongues were his favorite prey.

“How so, Steve? I like to think myself my wits are always near me.” Said Ishmere offhandedly.

“Wits may have been the wrong word, but it be best we do not talk about it.” Said Steve, his voice dropping to the level of a whisper even as the cadence of his speech changed to match the creaking of the oarlock. “Kurt, the hunter from Malinon let slip that he thinks the girl be cursed.”

“Cursed, who the bloody hell would curse such a small girl? And elf at that.” Said Jessup.

“Aye, makes little sense.” Said Steve, still in a hushed voice.

“Had to be a powerful curse.” Said Ishmere.

“What do you mean, why would they need to be powerful? Most mid-level mages can pick up the Curse spell, it’s even a prerequisite for some of the stronger attack magics.” Steve seemed at a loss as to what Ishmere meant, Jessup was just confused at how Ishmere could know something Steve did not. Steve WAS the mage on board.

“Aye, Elf-folks are resistant to magics of that school. Curses especially.” Said Ishmere as he watch the waves splashing in their wake. “Would take a right strong curse to get past that, less’n she be a Halfy.”

Steve chuckled, “She’s not a halfling Ishmere, too tall by a fair margin and not near enough hair.”

“A Half-Elf Steve, diluted bloodline means diluted protection. Unless her ma or pa are some such race with comparable resistances.” Ishmere looked to Steve as he spoke, “You happen to learn anything else about our long-eared cargo?”

Steve sighed as he scratched at his balding head, “I wasn’t told much else aside from the odd fact that Kurt and Bart found her in the woods stark mad and nude naked as an autumn salmon.”

Ishmere looked sharply at the ship-mage. “That part is probably best left unsaid; we are not wanting to sully a girl’s honor and dignity with chatter. I think we should be getting back to why the water is changing colors.”

“What?” came the reply from both of the other men at once.

“Look there.” Ishmere pointed aft as their eyes tracked from his face to his finger and then to the water behind their ship. In the distances, seeming to start at the dock they had left a short time ago was a shadow of sorts in the water. I shadow that was growing, in their direction. “That there, isn’t normal.”

Steve and Jessup stared dumbly at the odd coloration of the water, an almost graying of the deep blue lake before looked back to Ishmere with mouths agape much in the same as a carp on dry land.

“We’d best be moving lads,” said Ishmere, “I think it’s coming this way.”

Jessup sat back down, not remembering when he had stood from his seat on the rowing bench and pulled. The boat moved slightly more to the left as Ishmere had not fully expected the usually slower man to display such vigor in his pulls.

Steve, meanwhile, looked to the single mast of the ship and channeled an invocation of Whirlwind, being careful not to set it directly atop the sails and thus tear it to shreds. The boat lurched ahead as the wind filled the rippling sheets of fabric.

Ishmere grunted his approval as he picked up his own pace, his curiosity as to the shadow’s origin not nearly as strong as his desire to make it to a good tavern and drink some fine mead for many more days. No one could fault a man for wanting to live another day, even if their only reason was that they would miss drinking with the lads.

And so, the trio continued their assault against the waves, keeping well ahead of the trailing shadow. The speed at which it traveled seemed to make them want to slow, as if warping their minds into accepting that it could never catch them regardless of how much they slowed the ship. They knew though, much like the eel that raced the dragon the slippery shadow of the eel would soon overtake them if they suffered the pride of the dragon and allowed their drive to slip.

The three passengers on board watching from the small forecastle did not seem to notice the looks on the faces of the crew as the wind whipped by, they were just happy that it seemed like they would make better time.

And so it was, that the ship came into the dock at North Jaga ahead of schedule by nearly four hours. The men working the dock took in the smiles of the passengers, the haggard appearance of the mage on board, and the shifting suspicious eyes of the oarsmen as the surveyed the waters; they shrugged it all off as another day at work.

Some time later a group of clergymen showed up at the docks. They wore the typical almost-white robes of their order and all bore looks of solemnity as they marched onto the barge.

“The package?” asked the oldest man while looking at the crew.

“Package, sir? Which package, this be a barge. Lots of packages.” Ishmere said, with absolutely no inflection, fatigue clear in his voice.

“The elf, we are here to take the elf back to the church. We received the missing from Stan, the Guild representative of Malinon.”

“Ahh, that be her then,” said Jessup from his spot opposite Ishmere, “that pine plank with the blankets and such up front.”

The priest looked at the package before signaling to his fellows, they all bustled forward, lifting the plank which had held the girl snug for the journey across the water. She would probably never know how happy the crew were to see her leave their ship; Curses were for a higher paid lot of men.

Up the slippery docks they went, moving with efficiency if not grace as the priest headed for their place of worship, already the head priest could feel the negative energy roiling from the young woman in his charge. This would be a long night, he only hoped they were fast enough to save the poor soul.