"Go with him. You are no longer needed up here."
"We shall, but we have . . . But a short time left on this plane."
"Yes, I know . . .
Zandra's summoned allies flash into the cargo hold after Sacerdos, following their mistress' command.
There are fallen down here, mistress. The Wielder of the Flame (Sacerdos) is concerned over them, they are of the same house of worship... A bit more time passes... The Wielder of the Flame is growing in anger and frustration. There is something not here that he was expecting. He searches the rest of this dark area.
More time passes. From below decks, you can hear Sacerdos calling out in frustration several times. He found another body, one that bears the resonance of the Chaos spawn in tis flesh. Now the Wielder of Flame returns to the open air...
And with that, Zandra feels her summoned allies return to their plane of existence, a mixture of regret and victory and joy in their beings.
He leaps up from the tallest stack of crates and grabs hold of the edge of the cargo hold doors, hauling himself up onto deck. "One of the sarcophagus was opened, the priest's body broken open like a thing out of nightmare." Sacerdos announces, a grim aura darkening his countenance. "I fear your observation is true, Zandra."
After a pause, he touches the satchel at his side that contains the kukri. "What that does to the man's soul bound in this infernal weapon, I dare not guess."
"The whispers of chaos must have been heard from beyond the vessels, or a conspirator on board. Either way we have exhausted our ability to fight just one, let alone two of those slime beasts. . . And I for one believe we exhausted our luck."
"Karthan, Fir'umil and I have all felt the effects of this foe. We must be aware that there are still some among us that may yet manifest the effects of its administrations."
I am beginning to understand the policies of the Merfolk more clearly now.
"Do not mistake, Mistress. The remaining sarcophagus are intact and still bear my brethren. The holy seals there are unbroken." He grasps the amulet about his neck, the symbol of a sword and wing. "If the great lord is willing, we will see Windsinger Onura's sails soon. Then we can off load them to her ship."
The inquisitor sighs heavily. "I hear your words, mistress. In the name of preserving life, should it come to it, I can access the vessels and see that they are...destroyed."
"At the very least we should have Mal'undil inspect them to determine if they were broken into or broken out of." Karthan blurted out swaying to his feet.
"Men, make sure that the launch is still in position to receive us. Mr Croaker, are you or one of the other men well versed in knowing if and how we can shore up this ship? If we can prevent its sinking that would be a plus."
"Sacredos, show me what is was you needed to show Mal and I if you would as time is of the essence."
"Cousin you again have my thanks. Perhaps you and Zandra could look at the sarcophagi with your respective talents and see if you can glean anything new."
I can't let those things be brought aboard another ship or brought to port if they aren't secure. . . But, maybe there is another option."
Zandra cups her hands and lifts them over her head releasing a raven.
"Do you see sails on the horizon friend"
"Very well."
Zandra's raven sails upwards, beating his wings against the storm gathering strength in the east. As he flies upwards his eye drifts to the corpse of the Halfling still caught in the rigging, longing rumbling his belly.
Eat in a moment. the raven promises himself.
Towards the north, the bird's keen eyes spot a pair of wooden shapes, canvas and rope straining against the winds as they race one another. Pinning their location in his mind, he tucks his wings so his body has not wind resistance and drops like a rock towards the vessel below. At the last second, he unfurls his wings and catches the wind so he can alight on a beam of wood in the main mast.
He caws down to his mistress. Two of these... he pecks at the wood of the ship then points his beak northward then continues. ...fighting with one another, going further. Vessel yours is going to take the nest.
The raven caws once more, turning an eye down at her mistress from his perch in the rigging. Then his eye drifts to the dead thing next to him. His belly rumbles beneath his feathers, he begins working his way down the wooden beam and then to one of the ropes holding the Halfling aloft. Ahh, task is done, now a little bite...
Karthan, Mal’undil and Sacerdos cross the main deck towards the captain’s quarters, giving the dead mound of vileness a wide berth. Mal visibly shudders. While he’d experienced the horror of the confrontation in Coppertown, his was of a more physical nature. Likewise, he may have been out of reach of the dead creature’s mind arrows for all he knew because he’d not felt the impact both Karthan and the crewmen had.
”C’mon guys,” he says, attempting to lighten the mood. ”Let’s keep a little optimism here, eh? Now we get to the answers and hopefully the treasure, right?” But his casual joke falls on deaf ears. As the trio gets to the quarters, he steps forward and enters the room first.
Looking beneath the disaster that apparently had befallen the quarters, it looks to have been a stateroom of rich appointment. Mahogany paneled walls, a sturdy dining table made of teak, six wooden chairs, a well-padded captain’s chair, and a wooden cabinet full of fine dining accoutrements. However, the room is now in a shambles. Blood and scorch-marks mar the walls and floor, the dining table is overturned, hacked and dented and the chairs lay tossed about the room. The cabinet lies on its side with contents spilled. Broken dishes, silverware and wooden mugs lie scattered about.
”Looks like they had quite a fight here, some dried blood...but no bodies.” He shudders again, not wanting know what became of the dead.
”The Captain’s quarters are through that door over there,” Sacerdos points to the back of the room.
Mal gives him a nod and heads in that direction. The door to the cabin has been hacked to open and lies in jagged pieces in and around the entryway. There’s even evidence of scratching at the door, bits of fingernails left behind as gruesome testimony.
”Ugh, nasty business…” Mal remarks. He continues forward, motioning Sacerdos and Karthan to follow. A rusty battleaxe is still embedded in the largest piece of the shattered door, its blade caked with dried blood.
...checking for traps and finding none.
Inside, the spacious cabin contains a comfortable looking bunk, a solid mahogany desk, a large oaken sea chest and a closed wooden wardrobe. A large blood stain mars the floor next to the desk. Lying in the middle of the stained area is a finely crafted dagger, its blade covered with dried blood. Mal makes as though to inspect the weapon, but the Inquisitor warns him off.
”Leave the weapon, Mal’undil. Both the wizard and myself found it still resonates heavily with Chaos. Stand clear of it.”
”What about that?” Mal points to the desk. Upon the desk are many items, chief among them are two things of interest; one a candle made of black wax, the other a leather bound volume of excellent craftsmanship. The more interesting of the two is the black wax candle, for its wick still smokes as though it’d just been snuffed.
”I don’t understand it, Fir’umil was still working through his own theories. For as long as we’d seen it, it was still giving off a trail of smoke.” The Inquisitor shrugs, but his bearing indicates he’ll be giving the thing a pass too.
”Well, assuming it’s safe, looks like we’ve found the Captain’s Journal.” He indicates the book on the desk and claps his hands together. Other items on the desk include a collection of maps, navigational charts, a finely crafted astrolabe and an obviously masterwork sextant.
”Okay, at least we may learn more about what happened to this wreck. Now, onto that thing…” He points to the wardrobe.
The tall furnishing is made of solid mahogany with inlays of cocobolo. In its prime it would have been a masterful piece of work, but now it was hacked and desecrated must like the door to the quarters. However, where the door to the quarters had failed, this one seems to have held against the onslaught. There was even a boarding axe and a broken spear tip still embedded in the thing, but the doors remain closed. ”Wonder what’s inside they wanted so badly?”
...investigating the wardrobe for ways in before testing the doors.
The wizard watches his cousin leave with the other two men. ”He will need to be watched.” He smooths his robes out of habit. ”As will I for that matter.”
With that, he heads to the edge of the aft cargo hold doors and reaches into his spell pouch. ”I have aid for your descent if you require it, cousin.” He grasps a small, parakeet feather in his hand and jumps from the edge, bypassing the crates Sacerdos had used and floating to the bottom.
Once they are down into the hold, he casts a Light spell on the edge of his staff, adding to what the elves can already see with their low-light vision. There is obvious evidence of a pitched battle that occurred here and probably throughout the ship. Bodies are strewn about, most are dried husks of their former selves as though their very essence were drained from them.
”Interesting…” he says, spotting three bodies that don’t appear like the rest. They are garbed in much the same battle dress as their Inquisitor cohort; breasplates, bastard swords and even conical helms with nose guards. ”Two of them appear to have taken their own lives, falling upon their blades in such a way as to drive the steel into their brains.” He points to the third member of the cadre. ”This one, looks to have been beheaded by one of his fellows. Perhaps looking to avoid possession by the entity?” He gestures above their heads toward where the dead slime beast lay.
Further back in the hold, through the dank darkness and the smell of putrid earth, he spots the shattered remains of one sarcophagi. Not long after, the two elves find the two intact vessels. Fir’umil raises a hand, fingers arched at odd angles as he closes his eyes and reads the lines of magic in the area and upon the two intact coffins.
”Their wards appear to have held against many onslaughts. I don’t detect anything aboard that would have been powerful enough to have opened that one over there.” He contemplates the headless guardsmen a few feet away.
Karthan picks up the book, cracks it open and prepares to read the journal aloud, but before he begins he turns to Mal'undil and tries to further the lighthearted banter that the half elf had tried to foster, "Well Mal, looks like you've found a task right up your alley. Do me a favor and try to keep us and this ship intact. . . I have this thing about not drowning to death . . . "
As ranger keeps reading . . .
Mal'undil looks back with mock offense. "Hey, it's me!" He gives Karthan a grin then goes back to withiinvestigating the wardrobe.
"Hummm . . . The Captain was sent to an island some 96 days ago, by his brother named Wendell. . . He had someone or something with him he refers to as U. . . I don't know for sure, but it sounds like it could be a wizards familiar. Something that helps with some sort of research he was doing. . . The crew contracts something on the island. The island inhabitants that were there on island when the ship arrived were already under control of something on the island . . . They left the island after the crew took losses. . . Ahhh, this candle has something to do with U I believe. . . The Paladins killed themselves . . . The crew continued to evolve into something evil while the captain locked himself in the cabin here. . . The crew held some kind of cult ritual on the deck and broke open one of the caskets. . . The last entry was. . . . 45 days ago."
"Sounds relatively horrific." Mal comments. His statement is punctuated by a snick sound of a tumbler being turned. "Speaking of horror, anyone want to peek inside?" He steps up from his work and waves to the bureau like the doorman of an upscale tavern.
"My brethren chose suicide over fighting? What manner of evil...?" Sacerdos is troubled, it's plain on his normally stoic face. "But it may explain some of it if they were afraid of possession. They would have held the keys to the sarcophagi, bound to their blood. To prevent the caskets from being opened..." He trails off, thinking of what had happened out on deck.
"Mal, I am no wizard by any stretch, but I was trained to be one. That might be a summoning candle. If U is still aboard this ship it might be like the being we found in the brothel. . ."
"He states in here, "(51 Days Ago) - The three paladins from Magnimar that accompanied the caskets killed themselves today. Their leader, Raeph, told me it was the only way. They would bind themselves to their task. Something about their sacrifice keeping the caskets sealed. If not for me seeing their determination, I’d think they were seeking a way out."
"Then after the paladins were gone the Captian tries to disable the ship with something called phials. Is that an alchemy reference? Anyway, the chaos tainted crew was intent on landing in Absolom. They repaired the damage."
"The lights we saw in the sky, I wonder if that other ship boarded this one? If so what this one carried could already be off and onto another vessel. Or getting on the Windseers ship. Those crewmen outside, did they look green to you? I wonder if they were original crewmen."
The half elf takes a step back from the wardrobe, careful to also stay clear of the candle. "Well, considering I want not part of that little mess, I'd say leaving the wardrobe closed is a better idea. Maybe we get Fir'umil up here, huh?"
When he feels he's put enough distance between him and both the desk and the wardrobe, Mal folds his arms and leans against the wall. "Better, if you're right about this stuff spreading. Maybe Fir or your sister can send a messenger over to the Lucky Slip to warn Onura to not board this other vessel?"
Sacerdos begins looking thru the desk drawers.
"Hey, maybe we should wait for the rest before we start opening things in here." Mal warns.
"We will need the ship's manifest to know the crew." He responds.with the sharpness of a blade.
The rogue looks a bit offended, arms unfolding as he stands up straight. But any retort dies on his lips at a look from the Inquisitor.
Then there is a clicking sound, drawing all their attention to the wardrobe. One of the doors clicks free of the lock Mal'undil had sprung, drifting open a few inches on well oiled hinges.
Be as still and as swift to strike as the adder
Karthan watches the unlocked cabinet evaluating his next move.
The door is open only a few inches, the smell of musty clothes and animal-hide scrolls wafts from the interior. Other than your breathing, there is no response. It's quiet in the room. Too quiet.
"I agree cousin, I fear members of the crew may be already affected. We must watch them even more closely than ourselves. I fear we have boarded a mind of plague ship and we might be the carriers ourselves now."
"I will say one thing further, until we know more of what's gone on here, we cannot let the inquisitor complete his task. His ridged sense of duty may prevent him from practicing common sense precautions."
"No Raven, the meat is tainted. I fear it might even follow you back to the green dream. Find fresher meat there."
Outside the Raven calls out in protest his animal instincts to feed overwhelming him without a clear command from the druidess.
Zandra cups her hand then reveals a hearty warf rat which she sets down on an overturned box.
"Chew the ropes that hold the two legs in the rigging so that he can come down to the deck. I don't want him to go to the water." She spoke the commands aloud for the wizards benefit.
Spellcraft
"Some bodies are desiccated others are fleshed, the ones above still alive and looked human. We must try to understand the mechanics at play."
Karthan's mind races.
"How could I be so stupid!"
He simultaneously licks his fingers to douse the wick of the candle and kicks out to close the cabinet.
Perception
"Just big enough for an imp, quassit, or worse. Glitter dust would be great right about now. I may seem a bit paranoid, but the events of late might bear me out."
Mal steps back further, but reaches into a pouch at his hip to withdraw some talc powder, sending it up and out to create a cloud of descending white smoke.
"Uh, that can't be good..." Mal mentions, pointing at the candle.
The wick continues to leave a ribbon of smoke, rising upwards.
<cough> <cough>
"Brilliant Mal, non magical <cough> solution. Either I trapped it inside or there was no danger, or U is already out."
Sarcedos draws dagger, the cramped quarters in which they stood would be too tight to wield Knighteye effectively. "A demon you fear?" It's not an accusation in the Inquisitor's tone, but a question.
He touches a hand to his holy symbol and calls upon Ragathiel to give light to his eyes. After a moment of searching, his eyes open where he finds them resting upon the wardrobe.
"There. I sense something through those doors, but the distance does not reconcile." His frown deepens. "As though it is several feet beyond the opening of the cabinet."
Karthan watched the inquisitor closely.
"Yes we have already encountered and destroyed two so far. Do you believe there is a secret compartment, or is there something extra dimensional at play?
"Hmm, let me see.." He alters his focus to the look under the fibers of the mahogany wardrobe, looking into the flows of mana. "Yes, there is something within the wardrobe...no, some things...five items..." Sacerdos' eyes narrow as he focuses his will into what he's seeing...
"Three items, garments maybe? Perhaps a wand of some sort?" He steps forward, a bit of boldness in his step as he reaches for the door and opens it. He taps the locking mechanism on the door. "Mal'undil, you're skill was able to surpass the trap worked into this lock. A necromantic spell of some sort..." He gives the other half-elf an incline of respect.
He surveys the interior, exposing it to the minute amount of light in the room. Along the side shelves of the wardrobe are several leather satchels and a box-like shape covered by a velvet cloth. Under the cloth is a set of 6 gold bars. Behind him, Mal whistles.
But there are other items that draw the Inquisitor's attention. A pair of boots, a cloak hung among a few changes of clothes, and a small wooden case. The last he draws forth. He weighs it and sets it aside on the desk behind him. "The boots are magical, as is this cloak and the box there contains a magical implement of some sort. A wand perhaps."
But all of these he leaves behind for something in the back of the wardrobe.
Feeling along the back of the wardrobe with his free hand, he feels the seem of a secret door. He stands back and looks to the others. "There is a hidden door at the back of the wardrobe. I'm detecting the strongest aura of magic from it. A conjuration has been placed upon it."
He stands aside and awaits Karthan's response.
Karthan eyeballs the candle, "Mal, I am way outclassed in the magic department and think we also need to keep Sacredos on point here. No doubt my cousin will enjoy finding me in this position, would you mind fetching him? Though don't use that exact word or he might take his time. Lets not move or alter anything else before he arrives or we might unwittingly make things worse than they seem."
"Some bodies are desiccated others are fleshed, the ones above still alive and looked human. We must try to understand the mechanics at play."
"Indeed, cousin. A mystery into which we must descend." Fir'umil agrees, inclining his head as different thoughts swirl and turn. "For those who succumbed to the possession of this...slime beast, or whatever it was, it would seem their life forces were drained away. While those who did not succumb...' he points to the two paladins who'd claimed their own lives. "These are not touched by the effect."
His attention is drawn to the amulet around the headless paladin. "Then there is this medallion, it seems to have been damaged, perhaps burned. I don't sense a magical resonance upon it, but the craftsmanship would indicate it is something akin to a reliquary."
He crouches down next to the headless body and lifts the medallion away. Given that the head is gone, it frees easily of the dead man's form. He holds it up into a shaft of light coming from above. It was once a well made symbol bearing the unfurled wings of Ragathiel, the Empyreal Lord holding his blade aloft in defiance of evil. But now, it has been blackened and pitted and scoured along the surface. Like a dozen tiny creatures clawed at it and broke its power.
"The other two guardsmen who took their own lives, they have similar chains about their necks, but a clump of powder is all that remains of what I can only estimate are their medallions." He holds up the one in his hands again. "Yet this one is still intact, but appears, ruined."
He looks to Zandra and wonders what she makes of the evidence.
"Perhaps his casket was the one that was compromised. This paladin didn't take his own life. Perhaps he was slipping into taint or somehow incapacitated so his fellows struck his head from his shoulders."
Zandra looked about. perception
"They have been down a long time."
Zandra's keen sight focuses on the burned and scratched medallion dangling from her cousin's fingers. As she had said, it would appear that this one's brethren had removed his head, perhaps because he was being directed to open one of the caskets by the horrid entity that had assaulted and claimed the ship.
The headless paladin's guardsmen, perhaps seeing the evil being committed by their comrade, chose to end his life and their own to prevent another casket from being opened. Their spilled blood caused their own medallions to crumble.
From what you can tell, they've been dead for at least month, maybe more.
Seeing how the bodies of those possessed by the entity were desiccated while the paladins - who'd died on their terms - were not, leads your memory towards the past week's adventure dealing with the crystal daggers. But in this case, there was no need for a conduit when the entity was aboard ships. All it had to do was crush the will of its victim and assume control. Those who did not succumb, the ones not rotten, may have been spared the horrific death of which both Zandra and Fir'umil have some inkling.
Wizard and Druidess look at one another, the twists and turns of the past few days giving them an unwelcome insight into their current predicament. Fir’umil now stands before one of the sealed caskets and rubs a hand along a long string of runes carved into the surface. ”I can say with confidence that the interior of these vessels indeed remains intact. So much so, that it is beyond my magics to open them. These paladins here paid dearly for their charges.” He steps back and leans against his staff. ”I think our erstwhile Inquisitor has the ability, but he may require assistance with our friends at the Iomedae temple.”
He makes for the way they came in and Zandra can tell he’s not looking forward to the climb back out of the hold.
As the two make their way up, they both jump as something crashes to the deck above them with wet, meaty thump.
The rat chews at the last rope, a stirring of excitement in his little, verminous heart. At the very least he feels a hint of pride. After all the ropes are thick, a tight weave made all the tighter by endless days and nights in the salty air. There...just a few more bites…he can’t help the little squeaks and chitters of anticipation. He was able to do two of his favorite things; please his mistress and get up to mischief!
And with a final, mighty chomp, the halfling’s body falls free to the deck below.
Mal’undil is heading out of the captain’s quarters to the dining room and then outside when the group hears the heavy crunch of something hitting the deck outside. The half-elf looks back to the other two and rolls his eyes. ”That’s not exactly a good sound is it?” He draws his trusty short sword and nods towards the exit. ”C’mon ladies, let’s see what’s cooking.”
And with that the attention shifts to the deck as the rogue, the inquisitor and the ranger of Kyonin head out to investigate. They arrive to see Zandra and Fir’umil emerge from the cargo hold along with Croaker and the remaining crewmen all on guard, the latter lowering weapons as they discover that it’s the body of the halfling having crashed to the deck. Above them all, the summoned rat cleans wires of hemp from its teeth and looks somehow smugly satisfied at his accomplishment.
Fir'umil listens intently as Karthan and the rest disclose their findings inside the Captain's quarters. The wizard asks to see the wardrobe, eager to understand more of what has transpired aboard the Lydia's Wake. Once there he confirms the Inquisitor's observations and further identifies that a door exists in the back of it.
"Where it leads, I'm not certain, but I recognize the workings of teleportation magic."
Zandra watched her cousin walking up the steps to return to the deck. She wondered how much of his distain of the activity was due to his physical condition or whether his sharp mind simply disliked mundane annoyances such as simply assending a stairway.
When the halfling stuck the deck Zandra had nearly forgotten the mission given to her tiny minion so she hadnt been prepared for it as wrapped up as she was in her own thoughts.
"Ah, well, that would be the halfling that was stuck up high in the rigging. Perhaps his body will yield some clues."
"Good work and right on target little one. Go now and return to your cozy warren."
"Great, can't wait to see what that was."
Karthan followed Mal out and saw the crew eyeballing and then visually retracing the pathway to the deck that the halfling's body had taken. They visibly relaxed a bit when the halfling simply laid there and remained apparently and utterly dead.
I would suppose a fall from that hieght would probably rekill a zombie.
Perception
Zandra stepped onto the deck. She saw Sacredos appear from the captains quarters with a tense look.
"Sacredos, some good news, it is Fir'umil and my belief that your breatherin were able to shield the remaining two vessels. We should have no problem with taking them back to our friends in the temple."
"That is good news, but could you please join us inside. We have another matter that requires your expertise."
"Mr Croaker, please choose one man to stand as look out and to get a line to our launch. Then see what can be done to keep us afloat. if there is nothing to be done about the ships condition please set about getting a lift set up so that we can bring two heavy caskets up to the deck. There should be no danger, they are protected by holy magics."
Karthan looked at the men to see their reactions
Sense Motive
Croaker knuckles his brow and sets the men into motion, glad to have an activity to drown out his thoughts. The dead creature's body looms large in his periphery, giving him a chill. The soooner they're off this ship the better. "Best to let her sink, me thinks." Croaker says. But he complies with the order.
Sacerdos inclines his chin in gratitude. "Good news indeed, Zandra. But our mystery deepens with the discovery of the captain's log. And a potential link to what went wrong on this vessel."
.…………………………………………………………………………
Zandra finished reading the journal and shut its cover. Her hands lingered over the binding in the same way the horror of its author still lingered in this portion of the ship.
"Teleportational magic you say? In such a small space?"
Spellcraft
Perception
"Does it really sound all that fantastic after all the events of the past few weeks?"
"No unfortunately, but what it also means is that whatever is behind this has been able to grow and expands its reach into our world. It no longer needs glass daggers. It can manifest here on its own."
"I rather enjoyed my more myopic understanding of the situation, but your theory sounds all too probable."
"Besides the journal was there any other indication of what or who the subject U. Is? And fir, is this a summoning or conjuring candle? "
The elven wizard points out three items in the wardrobe. "I shall begin studying it, but in the meantime, I would gather up these materials and place them in your bag. They are indeed magical and worth quite a lot in both gold and power."
He gestures to the boots first, "Boots of Springing and Striding, if I'm not missing my guess..."
Then to the cloak hanging to the side, "A cloak of Flash and Shadow, quite useful for you, cousin." He gestures to Karthan. "One side gives benefit to sneaking about, even holds the blur spell. The other is for...personality." He grins slightly at the last.
He opens the small box, reminded of the one he'd procured for Tabir. And just like that one it contains a wand. "This one is the most potent. Keep it hidden for now until I'm absolutely certain..." Fir'umil eyes it for a moment longer, tempted to keep the implement for himself. "I'd wager a wand of fireball. If it is, it is more dangerous laying around until we know the command word to use it."
Again he gestures to Zandra to secure the items. "Go ahead, place them in your bag. There is no place safer in proximity than extra-dimensional space."
He shifts his attention to the candle on the desk. "Now what do we have here?" He speaks over his shoulder as he inspects the candle. "It is not summoning or conjuration...but a good guess considering the adversaries we've faced as of late."
...no go...
After reading the runes and construction of the candle's holder and even the wax and wick, Fir'umil steps back from the desk and twiddles his fingers. The chair that is laying on its side rights itself so he can sit in it as he cogitates. As he thinks, he reaches into his robes to withdraw his tincture to soothe his throat. A habit at this point even though he didn't feel the need for it. I wonder if the sea air is helping? he thinks absently.
He glances over to the journal and flips through its pages. "Hmmm, he mentions not hearing from this 'U.' with respect to the candle."
He turns the tincture bottle over in his fingers, letting it roll along with surprising dexterity as he leans back in the captain's chair. "You know, there were times when Hal'dorel would use a minor spell to send messages to his cretinous barbarian over distances. This could be transmutation magic. Giving our deceased captain the ability to communicate over great distances. But to whom or what?"