The Coast Way

At hearing of Wirrow's wellbeing, Keggruk sighs and leans back against the bed's headboard. "I am glad she's well. If I am to depart for Icewind Dale, I am reassured she has friends such as you two to care for her."

He holds up a placating hand for Shelur. "Let me worry about how to get home. If Candlekeep will not help me, I will find someone else who will. There must be a chapter of Torm in Baldur's Gate. Surely they would spare me some resources. I think a few days' rest will see my condition much improved..."

The orog's good eyelid droops and he sags in the bed. "Carry on with your trip. And mind Wirrow..."

Shelur reaches out and gently runs her thumb over Keggruk's ruined eyelid, fury surging in her gut.

"How cruel, for them to mark you like this!" she mutters through clenched teeth. "Who attacked us, Uncle? Why?"

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"Are you...?"

"...Okay?" she finishes. The pages blur, overlap, and meld in her vision. "Ugh!!" She rests her elbows on her lap and buries her face in her hands. "Probably not..." she mumbles.

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Note to Carcabob

"I mean, I think I've figured that you and Aiwë have something you don't want to tell everyone else...but—" she begins.

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A polite knock sounds on the girls' door.

"Come in..." Stella says exhaustedly, face still buried in her hands.

Aiwe's questions fall on deaf ears as Keggruk's chest slowly rises and falls. The orog seems to have expended what little strength he had and has fallen asleep.

"Best to let him rest!" Gellana whispers from the hall. "Coming back from the dead is always an ordeal, and he's not exactly in his prime. Unlike that Dieter. That boy was up and off so quickly..."

The door creaks hesitantly open, and Sheemish sticks his bearded head through. "Sorry to bother you both..." The blacksmith winces. "I know we're all tired. I just was wondering if either of you happen to have some spare soap...? I smell worse than a full day at the forge!"

"Uhhh..." Stella stares blankly at Sheemish with dull eyes, processing the request.

"Yes...I think so." She slides off the bed and kneels down next to her pack. "Did you run out, or just forgot that you stink until now?" she teases with a chuckle and grin. Unlike the state of her notebook, her pack was neat and orderly. She opens one of the pockets and slips out a bar wrapped in waxed paper.

She groans as she rises to her feet to go hand it to him.

Stella beams, sighs, and curtsies. "Thank you, Miss Mirrorshade! You've blessed us immensely," she remarks, glancing toward Aiwë and then at the door, thinking of Wirrow and the others.

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and giggles. "Dieter is certainly a lively one. Reckless, but I guess it takes more than even death to keep him down!"

Sheemish grins. "Maybe I'm just tired of smelling like you." He accepts the soap with a grateful sigh. He turns to walk off down the hall, but catches himself and looks back at Stella. "You know... it's actually quite a nice evening out there. Fresh air, cool breeze, sky full of stars... You should go have a walk and see for yourself."

Stella chuckles and gives Sheemish a sidelong glance. "Hey! I'm not used to hiking all day and night. I'm bound to be a sweaty mess after what we've been up to..."

She glances back at the piles of pages, sickened at the sight of them. "Yeah, some fresh air and stars before bed might do me some good. Thanks Sheemish," she smiles wearily at him and starts to follow him out.

Wirrow stares blankly on at the exchange. If either of the others pay her the attention amid the talk of sweat, they may notice Wirrow doesn't seem to be suffering from the same problem.

Chanting? "...what is that?" she mutters to herself. Intrigued by--and potentially a bit concerned about--the voice outside, but not wanting to have to push past anyone, she tails behind Stella on the way out the door. She also might be able to talk to Stella more outside...

Sheemish stands back to let the two women pass... and the corridor is silent.

"Ah, Wirrow! I just remembered, there was something I wanted to talk to you about." Sheemish tosses the soap up into the air with one hand and then catches it on the way back down. "Your bow. I think with some adjustments I might be able to make it even more accurate. Not that you need it!" He holds his hands up defensively, soap still clutched in one. "But... you know how things get in the chaos of battle. Do you mind if I have a look at your bow?"

He holds out his free hand expectantly as Stella continues down the hall.

Wirrow's initial thought is 'no, of course not,' but she pauses to remember how Sheemish was the one to make her bag, and how he'd also been able to do something to strengthen Aiwe's armor.

"I guess..." she mumbles, and removes the bow from her back. "Make sure it's ready before we have to use it next, though." After handing it over, she turns away to continue after Stella.

Aiwë adjusts her weapons and myriad of instruments as she walks up the stairs. She had tried to stay by Keggruk's side until he awoke, but the miracle-working cleric had finally kicked her out. A rousing song or three in the tavern or three have lifted her spirits even more, and there's a spring in her step and song on her breath as she makes her way to the girls' room.

Sheemish smiles as he accepts the bow. After Wirrow turns her back on him, his lips continue to twist into a malicious grin. He drops the bow to the floor and kicks it behind him. As Stella descends the stairs, Sheemish reaches into a pouch and retrieves some tiny objects. A moment later, a shimmering green arrow appears in midair before him and with an arcane word and a flick of his finger he sends the missile shooting forward - and lodging itself in Wirrow's back (Wirrow takes 12 points of acid damage).

As the magical arrow continues to pump acid into the ranger, Sheemish smirks and takes a step backwards, raising his hands to begin another spell.

HP: 16/28 -> 23/28
AC: 14
Initiative: 17

Wirrow, to her credit, only spends about a second being surprised before killer instincts kick in once again. Golden eyes turn red and blur along with the rest of her body as she turns to a black fog, supported by black winds. (Wirrow casts Zephyr Strike and then takes the Attack action to enter her wraith state. She does not provoke opportunity attacks and can move through creatures, and gains a momentary fly speed of 40 feet, which is increases to 70 by Zephyr Strike.)

The shadowy mist rushes towards Sheemish (whether it's a ruse or the real one, Wirrow doesn't care) and then into him, where he feels something clamp down and break inside of his neck. No outside marks are apparent, but the pain and internally flowing blood indicate all is not well for him by any means. (Upon hitting, uses Favored Foe. 'Sheemish' takes 7 necrotic damage and 8 force damage (15 total), and Wirrow regains 7 hit points.)

Just as quickly as she burst through him, the spectral Wirrow whirls and flies through her most likely disoriented opponent once more, blurring back down the hallway and then turning to even pass Stella going down the stairs; well, pass through Stella. Even with the vitality sapped from Sheemish, the barely-recognizable wraith stopped in front of the starry girl--and in front of Aiwe ascending the stairs--is obviously bothered by the green acid bubbling in her ghostly chest cavity.

Aiwë gasps as spectral Wirrow pauses between her and Stella. She recovers from the sight in an instant. "We are going to have a long talk after this," she growls, guttural Orcish accent coming through her Common as she draws her sword. She runs up the stairs, ready to face Wirrow's attacker, and pauses at the sight of Sheemish.

"Sheemish? What's going on?" Shelur doesn't think he would attack Wirrow if he learned... things, but she is apparently wrong. "Put down your weapon. Let's talk things over." She spreads her hands as if in peace, ready to drop her sword. She is equally ready to stop Sheemish from getting past her to Wirrow.

Aiwë readies her action to grapple Sheemish if he tries to get past her.

HP: 18/18
AC: 13

"Oh!" Stella freezes for a moment as Wirrow flies through her, then relaxes. That was new.

"Are you coming on the walk too?" Stella asks wistfully. Her eyes widen at the sight of the bubbling acid. "What happened?! Come on, you need some fresh air too..." She takes Wirrow's hand and tries to lead her out while drawing a constellation near the acid. "Cleanse.—Don't worry Aiwë! We're just going for a walk."

(Healing Word. Wirrow regains 5 HP.)