Any luck finding the disk Rael?Admires the mark his axe left and straps his axe back on...walks towards the chest that goathead got his powers from and attempts to push it on dry land...

"Silver, then ?  As good an explanation as any.  I've a few silver coins in my pocket, but that's all ... can't see them hurting it, though they might serve to make a ghost think twice before coming too close - a ward not a weapon."

Berta looks dubious as to the effectiveness of such an approach.

"Careful," she councils Viktor, even less certain as to whether the Pan Tangian will heed her.  "If the metal crates aided the ghost, they may prove harmful to mortal flesh ..."

Rael keep his eyes fixed on the thing, he slowly reach to the disk while trying to call Viktor "Viktor.... Viktor..." but his voice fail him.
[Private to GM: This must one of the mad crew members or unaffected crew if you believe Angrboda. Rael think about smiling but he is not sure how the thing would interpret it "I... I am a friend... we came to <gulp> help." he says ready to dive into the water if the mad thing toss the weapon in his direction.

OOC:
Sorry for the long absence, had a severe case of the flu.]

"Agreed," Cirok replied grimly to Berta, standing with hands on hips, waist deep in water.  He stared for a moment longer to where the goat spectre had disappeared and then turned his attention back to their immediate surroundings.

Esyld's comments about silver seemed to make sense, especially given the way their greenish enemy had shied away from Viktor's wayward throw of the disc.  "If only I'd come from money, all my weapons would be silver.  And gold!" He rolled his eyes, but his lighter tone and open grin belied an honest humour.  "Alas, I've yet to make captain and find such coin.  If they come back, I'm not much use other than bait."

While waiting for Rael to locate the Pan Tangian's artifact, Cirok stamped his feet to try and keep the blood flowing to his legs.  The water left him chilled.  "I hope we can reach the far end soon and climb back to the drier decks," he grumbled to no one in particular.

[Private to Rael Gol: The feral "muppet" seems to ignore your attempts to calm it down. As a matter of fact it acts as if it barely acknowledges your existence while whirling the device over it's head. For a few seconds the item is lassoed over it's head then slowly winds down. The feral "muppet" hops on to nearby box and takes off towards the bow of the ship leaving you in the dancing blue lights of the hold.]

The abrupt end of the encounter allows you to take in your surroundings and to realize how cold you are getting. Standing nearly chest deep in water is slowly draining the warmth from your limbs. While not an immediate issue, it may cause a problem over prolonged exposure. Now that things are calming down you can see that the blueish emergency lighting does not apply here in the giant cavernous hold. The blue lights dancing through the area was a combination of the ghosts illumination and the light spilling from the stairway room. After a short bit the blue dancing lights reflecting from your waves fails to illuminate much of anything.

The crates around you are made of a few different substances. Few are made of metal while the majority are made of the same chitin like substance that the ship is made out of. [Private to Angrboda: Just before your composure comes back you fall into a memory of an old childhood song you used to hum to yourself has popped into your head. For a brief second you remember that your "nanny" used to have you hum this occasionally.]
[Private to Cirok: It is not that you are not getting cold, you can feel it on your face, but you are feeling far less cold than you should on the submerged parts. You almost begin to freak out when you notice that your armor is acting as a "wet-suit" keeping much of the water away from your skin.]

"Well, I suppose we should continue on the quest, although I wonder what's in these crates."Angrboda says with a twinkle in her eye, as she sets about trying to carefully open one.

[Private to GM: What kind of song?  Do I remember the lyrics?]

"Doesn't it interest you why you are still alive?" Rael ask as he slosh back to the others holding the disk in his shivering hand.

"I just saw one of the mad muppets... although I think I begin to agree with Angrboda theory... the thing saved us. It had this rope thing it swung and made the goat things flee... maybe we should try following him instead of looting?" he asks pointing at the direction crew member left.

Rael you found the disk...nice job buddy...Angrboda should take a look at it...so a whip weilding muppet saved us...I think we should follow him..gives up on pushing the crate and goes near Rael and pats him on the back...

"Aye," Esyld agreed, "I'm for following the moppett, or whatever you say they're called.  My feeling is likewise that they mean us no harm, and may be friendly. For whatever that's worth."  She strained to see in the decreased light, and shivered some against the chill.

"I'd settle for just going somewhere that isn't wet and dark, though," seconding Cirok's grumble.

Composure regained you take note of your waterlogged selves. Angrboda attempts to open one of the crates with little success. While you can find a seam, it appears as if magic itself was "gluing" these crates together. Jabbing daggers, edges, and other items into the seams to little to grant purchase or leverage to pop these crates. The rest of the group moves about, cautiously, to find clear passage through the maze of boxes and debris. After exploring the area more it is evident that you will only be able to safely navigate the next 20' (6m) or so without some sort of additional light.

Not that I want to call a marching order, but I need to know who the feral Muppets set on first in their quest for food. *evil laugh* Mwahahaha

Angrboda gives up on the box and begins to move forward humming to herself, "Maybe the survivors will know how to open the boxes." she thinks as she keeps humming.

OOC:  I will take the lead.

Berta is reluctant to give up on the crates ... but after all Angrboda's efforts to open them prove ineffectual, she too is forced to admit defeat.  Besides, to stay here in the chill water much longer will mean their deaths, with or without the appeareance of any more of the ghosts.

"I'd suggest using your blade," she nods to Esyld, "but you may well have saved our lives, and scarce deserve so poor reward."

With a smile the warrior-woman explains her thoughts, fighting to keep her teeth from chattering as she follows after Angrboda, motioning Esyld to stay close.  "If the silver might hurt the ghosts," she begins, "then perhaps too it might disrupt the seals on those metal crates which restored the creature ... or perhaps you'd find those strange energies coursing through you !  After our recent experience with a lightning elemental," Berta recalls the battle to escape the palace of her former employer, "that would probably not be a pleasant experience."

"And in the name of Kakatal !  Has somebody got a brand they might light ?!!  I can't see a damned thing down here !"

OOC: right behind Angrboda :>

She moved along with Berta, while the red-haired warrior woman offered explanation.

Esyld tried to discern if she was in jest... like everyone else here, to her ears, Berta had an unfamiliar accent, sometimes used slang, she didn't always understand.  She didn't know what a lightning elemental was, amongst other things.

But as she listened, she decided Berta was being honest with her; asking rather than trying to order, which was appreciated.  She glanced toward the crates, bit her lip faintly.

"I understand why it might be very important to get one open.  I don't know... my blade is a rapier; unusual quality or no, it's hard to imagine it working. And, possible consequences, as you say.  If we might find a way to communicate with the moppetts...hopefully, they could answer much." 

Per Berta's request, she did set about seeing if the pair of torches she had in her pack were yet dry enough to light.

Assuming it's possible, I will get out a torch, and light it.

"Ah yes, light would be good.  I should be able to do something about that." says Angrboda as she goes into an incantation.

OOC:  Casting Flames of Kakatal ahead of the party and high up so as to light up as much of the room as possible.

[Private to GM:
Sorry to hide this. you will need to change your response.


 As the flames manifested, she gasped in surprise, almost dropping the torch.

She thought she had heard something about Angrboda having some skill with magic. But, she hadn't seen anything like this, in her life.

She had heard enough, though, about the dangers of sorcery...

"Is - is that safe?" She asked Berta, in hushed tone.]

*GM* New content to come
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:32, Thu 14 Jan 2016.

Esyld brings out the two fairly dry torches. In addition your tinderbox was lucky enough to have remained dry enough to get a spark. Within a few seconds the party has a single sputtering torch.

Full of the usual Melnibonean contempt for such mundane things Angrboda begins to call upon the fires of Kakatal. Wiping the water off of her face she releases her built up energies and points to the ceiling....[Private to Angrboda: You feel the release of the energy, and just like facing the goat, you feel it dissipate as soon as it leaves you.]

and nothing happens.

[Private to Angrboda: The urge to hum stops, instead you get this feeling wash over you like your instructor/nanny was extremely disappointed.

Sorry, edited out]
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:00, Thu 14 Jan 2016.

OOC: HEY!  I never said anything about smirking!

As her efforts at the smallest spell fail so does Angrboda's mood, 'We need to get off this hideous rock soon or I am going to die." she says (rather dramatically).  Then turns to head towards the back as fast as she can.

Cirok welcomed Angrboda to the rear of the group with a grim smile, his mouth a thin, compressed line.  "The entropy affects us already," he murmured quietly, not wishing to alarm the entire group.  As the bunch of them moved forward through the flooded hold, he kept pace as best he could with his shorter stature.  Perhaps surprisingly, he seemed to move very well in the water.

If only I could offer some better contribution than that, he thought with regret.

OOC:  Sorry Cirok I meant the back of the ship....or further into the bowels.  Gotta kill the poor thing.  lol

Berta purses her lips at the failure of Angrboda's spell. "Blades don't work ... magic doesn't work ... I do not like this place," she mutters.

The sooner they can kill the ship and be gone from this place, the better.  Assuming the ghost-things do not slay Mikkl and the remaining sailors that are working to disconnect the device.

As Angroboda moves off, the warrior-woman hurries after her, thankful at least for the small comfort of the torch that Elysd has kindled.

"Angrboda, it is not that I don't appreciate you taking the role of live bait marching forward when we know the goat things are interested in you and you have no way to affect them but wouldn't it be ahm wiser for you to march toward the center of the group?" Rael asks innocently, despite the horrors of this place he was quite enjoying himself and if he had to be honest with himself, the hell maiden woes and weakness revealed had a great part of it.

walks around and gathers up his weapons and straps everything back on except his short sword for now and reaches out his hand for the disk back from Rael and gets in line of the marching order next to Rael...laughs a little and gets out his winesack for a quick drink...laughs some more and offers the winesack to anyone who might want it..

Angrboda whirls and appears to be about to yell, then she takes a deep breath and releases it, 'The goat spirit went that way." she says pointing behind them, "I am merely heading the opposite direction as fast as possible." she says smiling, "It's not my fault you guys are so slow." she then turns and begins heading further into the ship, giggling to herself.

She didn't understand what Angrboda had attempted, but it seemed perhaps an incantation.  She thought she'd overheard the woman might be a spell-worker.  Magic was the province of Chaos...and, the worst of it could have terrible repercussions.   This much she understood.  So, while it might have aided them, she was just as glad it hadn't worked.   A feeling that Angrboda plainly did not share...

In these straits, the offered wine was tempting.  But, she knew it would do nothing for her readiness to face danger, and so declined.

One thing did occur to her:  "What about the disc that Rael recovered?  Wasn't Angrboda going to have a look at it?" 

But, judging from her pace, and the madcap giggling, Esyld guessed that was rather far from her mind, right now.  Keeping a firm hold on the guttering torch, she followed in the same direction.

A few moments later you are able to get the second torch sputtering to life. The sad excuse for a flame seems to be dulled by whatever force you are beginning to feel in your own guts. You have been able to simply ignore it for the short term, but there is no mistaking it, the world itself seems to be leeching your very ambition and energy. The evidence is around you. Waves in the water simply peter out after a short bit, the air hardly moves at your disturbance. Corpses hardly seem decomposed though it is evident that the crash has happened some time ago.

Not only is this world dying, it is taking everything along with it.

Heading towards the bow is slow going. The average depth is easily to your chest and many times towering stacks of boxes impede your progress. It is cold and tiring and the constant moaning of the dying ship echos through the cargo bay. Strangely Cirok seems to be the least effected by the environment as more than once tripwires and booby traps have been triggered. The first time Cirok is able to pull Esyld out of the way as a tall stack of boxes topples over on the mid of the group.  A few waterlogged sputtering words is all the damage suffered from that catastrophe. The second trap triggered is thanks to the hobnailed boots of Viktor. In an effort to get a few more drops out of his wineskin his attention deviated and he staggered from the group. There was a tiny TINK like the snapping of a violin string.

As the tale would be told by those later in a bar no one is sure if by design, or by being drunk, Viktor was able to submerge himself in time as a box around his head height exploded in a huge blinding thunderclap. Thankfully Viktor's preoccupation with the wineskin had allowed enough distance between himself and the group.

After what seems like hours of slogging through the cold water you finally spy a portal, much like the entrance to the hold, just at the edge of your torches light. The door appears shut and you see no evidence of the being described by Rael.
The nearer you get to the front of the ship, the more intense the wail. Many times you are forced to simply rely on hand gestures as your own voices get drown out.