A red headed fey-touched being of siren blooded origin seems to be drawn by the sounds near the small town in which he lives. Long slender ears twitch upon the first few subtle sounds that are picked up on his way to the Slanty Shanty before the coated figure draws off towards the docks. A feral like sniff is given to the air ways of the sea. He remains out side trying to pin point the sounds of sorrow that dance upon the winds. He studies what little he can hear trying to discern any words or meanings of teh song. If Silence should fade and befall the singer an instrument is drawn out by the viscous looking elf- like being as a similar song of note is harped in turn.
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"It's easy to feel like a hero. It's a little harder to be one."
A battled tired Selunite would return to the site of the temple, her face covered in blood and dirt. As she hands a bulging sack of coin over to Seldak, she pauses to listen to the haunting melody, though not for long. Heading back out into the direction of the Forest of Despair she could be heard to say, "Gods help whomever is singing that if they try to harm any here."
A rather tall, sagely-looking man wearing a mask of bone would have returned to Wharftown repeatedly as of late for transport and hunting, and would sometimes stop to listen to the song on the wind. He would eventually move on, once he had heard the melody once or twice, but would be somewhat curious about who would sing that particular, sad song.
_________________ Currents! Sir Hammond Harrington Earalia Holyn Virgil Kelten
After hearing little to no word of the ships traveling through the isle, the druid would report to the guard of Wharftown as well as Cordor what had transpired in the small port, and the estimated location of the sunken vessel so that it may be pulled out of the water, piece by piece. In addition, he would offer to be there when the ship is recovered to provide the spells required to breathe underwater. Sadly, due to the displacement of the bodies by a certain shaman and Nobanionite, and the obvious dangers of the ocean floor, he could not tell them where the bodies of the crew had been placed.
_________________ Currents! Sir Hammond Harrington Earalia Holyn Virgil Kelten
A certain shamaness can be seen by the waters of Wharftown, relaxing by the bank with her fingers dipped into the chilly tide. Her eerie vermilion pupils are entirely washed of a bright white light, as she seems to focus on something beneath the surface.
Before long, she stands once more, retreating North towards the coast and the Gulf of Lumier. She returns several hours later, only to disappear again into the Slant Shanty.
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