"Apothecary! It's happened again!" wails a gravelly, yet youthful voice. Loud thumping can be heard as a strange rock pile creature rushes into the cottage.

The witch at the counter barely glances up from her thick tome.

"Again, you say?" She lifts up a chunk of pages from the book to reveal a heavily dog-eared page, creased in multiple spots and wavy at the edges like something had been spilled on it. The rock monster has a worried, puppydog look on its, you could say, face. An emotive crease in the rock, like a familiar, concerned forehead wrinkle.

"Show me, please."

The monster lifts its appendage and thunks it on the counter. A variety of metal doo-dads and pebbles are stuck to the base of it, including nails, an expensive-looking ring, some handcuffs (?!), basically a bunch of annoying metal things. You'd be upset too if you tried to pet a bunny with spike hands.

The witch examines the arm, sets down the pages, and sighs knowingly. "Craig, have you been watching your diet like I recommended last time?"

He looks down at the floor with a pout. "But the rusty ones tastes so good."

"You know the drill, wait here until I'm back with your cure. Don't get into too much trouble, and don't touch anything!

Meltwater Loch

The apothecary stocks were running low, since the new witch hadn't had much time to go out and replace the meager supplies left by the previous owner. So she decided today's the day -- with magnetic hands being more of a nuisance than an emergency situation, she had ample time to mosey down to Meltwater Loch. It's always nice to get out in nature, anyway, and she hadn't had much time with potion-making practice to explore around the area anyway. Just too bad her mentor couldn't bring her along themselves.

It's a perfect partially cloudy day to pick the reeds that line the shores of Meltwater Loch. However, looks can be deceiving. As the witch walks down to the shore, a thick fog suddenly starts rolling in. The wind howls and swirls around her, making her grab her hat so it doesn't fly off to who knows where. And then it started -- a faint... is it... an accordion sound in the distance? It gets louder, and starts to be accompanied by other raucous noises, clanging, and shouting.

Ahoy there bonny lass! Ain't ye a sight for sore sockets! A voice rings out from within the fog, slowly coming into view. A ghastly figure atop a pole emerges from the abyss. Squinting, the witch determines that it's a ship's crows nest.

"Who are you?" she yells, still holding on to her hat for dear life, robes whipping around her legs in the wind.

"Aye lass, I can't hear ye!" the figure yells back. "Come ye aboard, then, so we can talk proper!

Not seeming like much of a threat, and with nowhere else really to go, as everything surrounding the ship and loch is still enveloped in dark fog, the witch approaches the mysterious ship. Still unable to see much of anything, she feels around until she grabs a rope ladder. Aye aye, captain, up we go. Laughs and clanks become more audible as she climbs, so clearly she is where the party's at. She continues to follow the noise until she's in the ship's mess, surrounded by a bunch of translucent blue, skeletal, partying pirates.

"Get this lassie a drink boys!" calls a voice from somewhere, and a portly (somehow) skeleton swiftly places a large flagon in her hands. It's a two-hander, but appears to be empty? Hmm.

There's a circle forming around a gregarious, flailing pirate. "Hear ye, hear ye," he says drunkenly, "Let me regale ye with me pirate tales!"

"Ahem,"

"It all started one day at sea, the winds were fast and other nautical boat things. We were on the search for a mysterious place, the legendary isle where women wore only the smallest garments! The goods all out for us to see! *pirate laugh track and flagons clinking*

We approached the map marker at a number degree, and were just about to park the ship when we were suddenly pulled underwater!

(This was apparently a normal thing for this ship, since nobody seemed surprised or gasped or anything. You'd think pirates would care more about sinking, but no, it was just a detour.)

Oooooh the sights at this place were like nothing I e'er did see! Strange ruins in straight lines, almost like a city from up top. But you never know who lurks in the deep, maybe they're surprisingly civilized. We're open minded blokes, it's not too much of a jolt to have roads and buildings underwater. But then we saw them. Coming towards us. Swarms of tiny fish surrounded our bony toes, but it wasn't us they were greeting, nay. Shiver me timbers, we spied a foul beast on the horizon and aye, was the lad hungry. Picking up e'erything in sight and shoving it down his gullet! And we thought ol' Crab Legs Malone could eat!"

"... still can" slurs someone in the crowd.

"The more he stuffed in the bigger he grew. Every three fathoms he walked and ate and grew bigger, bigger, until he was nose to nose with yours truly. The little critters below us quieted and trembled as this pink behemoth slowly looked up. He looked me right in me good eye, me with me wits at the ready, and lifted his hand.

"Pull my finger." it said.

"I dare you." and then we heard it, off in the distance. A cry.

"Patrick!! No!"

But the warning came too late. The monster opened its gaping maw and let out a belch rivalling a volcanic eruption. 'Ere she blew! The stench, the wind, knocked us back on our calcanea and the beast went flying. Back through the lil town, spinning through the sea and smashing through buildings on his way back to the horizon. A flatulent sound as he shrank smaller and smaller. And after just that short moment, he was again a wee starfish, lying flat on his back in the middle of the road.

The townspeople gasped and watched the still pink blob in the distance, bated breath. And then he got up. Brushed himself off and moseyed away, settling under a rock without another word. And then the townspeople gasped again, after they looked up and saw a crew o' bones standing above them. Yaaarharharharhar!"

"Ye didn't finish yer grog, girl" says a nearby skeleton. The witch looks down at her cup and swirls it around, despite it appearing still empty. "Better not let it go to waste" it says again, fingers outstretched expectantly.

The witch looks one last time and gives up her mug, confused yet appreciative at their attempt at hospitality. Must not be used to having guests.

"And we didn't even see any bikini bottoms!" shouts a crewmate, as the crowd breaks out in cacophanous hoots and laughter, glasses clinking as they finish their last swigs of drink. The storyteller starts to shamble over to the witch. The crowd gradually calms to a murmur as the skeleton crew leaves the mess hall for their duties.

"Aye, so you're the new one, lassie." the storyteller says. "Old Grimmie was a favorite guest of ours. Bittersweet to hear she's passed on her torch. But ye be welcome any time we're ashore, we'll holler!

The witch nods solemnly and shakes his hand bones, as well as you can, anyway. Grimmie really did have some interesting friends. But that's the charm of it all, isn't it.

"Call me Captain Rogers." the storyteller says. "I won't let it go to me cranium! Arrharharhar!"

The witch finds her way out of the ship and back to the beach. She turns and puts a hand up in a small wave as the ship slowly sinks back into the sea. The fog clears, and it's the same beautiful blue-skied day as it was before she got here. Back to the day's work. Deep Reeds are plentiful this time of year, so she plucks a few and gingerly places them in her satchel, giving her bag an assured pat as she closes the bag. But there's still one ingredient left.

Thankfully, Meltwater Loch is also home to the Shadow Shark, which is an excellent pain reliever. The witch wades out into the sea and sits on a flat rock jutting out from the sand. She retrieves her fishing pole from her bag and prepares it, casts it out into the water, and waits. She waits some time before the bobber is pulled, but lo and behold, she gets a bite and reels in the shark she's looking for. A small one, but that'll do just fine.

On her way back to shore, the witch sees a glimmer coming from one of the tidal caves lining the beach. She wades through the shallow water and ventures inside. A skeleton has washed ashore, but not like the ones aboard the ghost ship. No, this one had no life left in it, and was covered in barnacles and barely intact. She warily looks closer, almost expecting for it to wink or let out a peal of piratical laughter, but it is still. What was the glimmer she saw? Working her eyes down the body, she notices a silver ring on the skeleton's bony finger. Not just a silver band though, it's adorned with a sizeable skull emblem. The witch's hands hover over the treasure. People die at sea all the time, it's not too rare that someone washes up on shore. This ring couldn't possibly have contributed to this fellow's demise. Could it? It's normal for rings to stay on remains this long, right?

Pulled Queen of Swords

The witch spends another moment heming and hawing over the treasure, and pulls her hand away. She can't sense any cursed, ancient magic on the artifact, but she is not a very experienced witch. She decides not to let her curiosity get the best of her, not today, anyway. It was enough excitement on the ghost ship. No need to add to that with some kind of creepy skull-spell. It's the right decision to leave the ring behind. Maybe she can try to remember what it looks like and ask someone about it back home at the village.

As she turns away from the body to leave the tidal cave, the once calm sea suddenly rushes in. The tidal cave starts to flood, quickly going from toe-deep to knee-deep water. The water rushes in and out of the cave, breaking apart the skeleton and taking the bones back out to sea with it. The witch grasps for her robes and her bag to lift them out of the water swirling beneath her. It's a splashy exit, but she manages to get back out to the open beach before the tide takes her too.

Drenched but safe, the witch gets her bearings back on the beach as the waves calm back down. She packs up her tools and precious reagents and heads back to the village. Craig is still outside the apothecary cottage, although his hand is now stuck to a lamppost, and even more miscellany is stuck to the rest of him.

"Witchie! You're back!" he chirps, unbothered by his current situation. Some birds have taken a liking to him, and are examining his body for any worthy treasures to try to take home.

"Oh Craig, you just can't stay put, can you. sighs the witch. "I'll have your potion shortly." He won't be able to run off this time, at least.

Magnetic Thumb seems to be Craig's favorite ailment, so the witch has this process down pat already. Crush the reeds, distill the shark's shadow, mix, shake, and let settle for a few minutes. The witch peeks through the front window to see Craig stretched as far as he can from the lamppost. His face is buried in a grassy patch nearby. Is he sniffing a flower? Can he smell? She looks back down to her bowl to check on the potion. The mixture has settled into a deep purple liquid with dark brown flecks. Looks right to me. She bottles the Demagnetizer up and carries it out to poor Craig.

"Alright, Craig, all ready," says the witch. She pours the potion on his arm, making sure not to let too much drip down onto the ground. "Bleh, why does it have to taste like that?" complains the little rock being. The witch raises an eyebrow contemplatively and pauses for a beat. "Well, you wouldn't have to do this if you listened to my advice!" Craig turns his head towards the witch to reveal a shiny silver coin stuck to the middle of his forehead. "Here, miss, I can pay you this time," he says a little proudly. The potion has now set in, and the mass of collected metal drops right off. The witch plucks the coin from his head and thanks him for being a good patient. She looks down at the pile of junk, wait, is that a pocketwatch, better take that, and decides to leave the rest for the crows.

+20 silver, +1 Reputation point. Totals: Novice - 6 reputation | 20 silver

10/21/2022