46. The Truth of It

* With Old Mackerel slain, the four standing members of the party catch their breath. Aerendyl walks among the thick grasses where he'd cast his *plant growth* spell, to where Cormorant lay. He confirms that the old man had died to Mackerel's spell in the fight.
* Aerendyl tells the others not to worry, that once they have their affairs in order and he's rested, he'll do what he can to bring Cormorant back.
	+ Clwyd, no longer a t-rex thanks to the violet dragon ending her concentration, has Wilfred thank the creature for saving her life with the timely *polymorph* spell. The group also make sure the dragon knows they think her true to her word, saying that her debt is paid in full. She thanks them in turn, telling them that should they ever find themselves in Hyrsam's forests or at the Drake's Bathhouse her kind are known to frequent, if they speak the name Yundyll, they shall identify themselves as friends. Yundyll, the violet faerie dragon, takes her leave, despite Aerendyl's concern for her, lacking her wings as she does. Her final remarks are that she will seek out the balm of the morning court if she is able, in the hopes of one day reclaiming what had been taken from her. Then she headed for the fey crossing.
	+ Aerendyl deposits the Weird Goat and Old Mackerel into the waiting reflection of the moon at the shoreline. When he's finished with both, their oaths completed, the River King greets him, speaking through the elf's reflection again. The fey tells him what a wonderful job he and his friends have done, and how he might need a day to rest, but perhaps Aerendyl would come visit him the next night. His friends are also welcome, should they wish to come. All through the conversation, the River King's magic is straining, and at times it falters enough that the image of Aerendyl's reflection wavers, revealing the Sidhe to look haggard, dishevelled, and exhausted from his efforts over the last four nights.
	+ Wilfred gets his spellbook out and ritual casts *gentle repose* on Cormorant's body, ensuring it does not begin any sort of decaying process while the group sleep.
	+ Pyt summons his hut and the group of four collapse into rest. Clwyd, no longer needing sleep, spends her night looking over the three fancy scrolls, the pristine book with the Vitruvian Man design on the cover, and the disgusting scroll made from the skin of a forearm and hand. (*I probably shouldn't have let these items be identified like this, since I prefer to protect the niche of the identify spell. However, I wanted to speed things along a bit so I went with it. Just bear in mind in case it doesn't work next time you try it.)*
		- The fancy scrolls she finds to be Scrolls of Protection Against Fey.
		- The book she finds to be a magical tome capable of boosting the physicality of a humanoid reader, should they read it with the right intent over a short, intense period (*Manual of Bodily Health*).
		- The flesh scroll blows her flippin' mind. It is a spell scroll, containing magic far more powerful than anything Clwyd has seen before, for it is a Scroll of Feeblemind (An action and a *DC 18 spellcasting ability check to cast from the scroll successfully if you don't have 8th level spell slots; save DC 18 when the spell is cast from the scroll; scroll destroyed on use, whether or not the ability check was successful; on bard, druid, warlock, and wizard spell lists so all can attempt to cast with the scroll)*.
	+ Aerendyl comes out of his trance after four hours. With the fighting now done, he is wearing his Spring form. He and Clwyd share some light conversation, as they have gotten into the habit of doing in this two-to-four hour window they have with each other every morning before the others wake up.
	+ When Pyt and Wilfred have also risen, they get ready for Aerendyl to perform his *reincarnation* spell.
* Aerendyl lays Cormorant's body down on the thick grass he'd conjured the day before during the fight. He warns the others that Cormorant might not return with the same appearance, but that it will still be him all the same. Wilfred says he'll do what he can to help the magic along, hoping to usher Cormorant's soul back into a human's body again if possible. Aerendyl spends the better part of an hour preparing for the spell: cleaning Cormorant's body, applying embalming oils to his face, hair, and clothes, lighting incense and burning herbs in specific points around and over the corpse. When at last the elf starts chanting in earnest for the spell to take effect, the sweet-smelling smoke from the incense grows and grows until it fully obscures Cormorant's body in a great grey gout rising to the sky.
* Aerendyl completes the *reincarnation* spell and the others watch on with baited breath. But as the smoke clears, nothing has changed. Cormorant, the old man, still lays there amidst the grass, dead. For the spell does not work if the soul is not willing. And with his wounds dressed, his clothes cleaned, and his hair oiled for the ritual, he looked . . . peaceful.
* Later, the group would descend into the portable hole, pull out Wilfred's book on the Old Faith from the now-cramped book shelves, and take out the letter Cormorant had left for them, the letter he'd told them to read if he died in the fighting. They cracked the seal and saw the scratched words of their old friend:

> ***To the crew of* the Drunken Dragon.**
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> ***If I end up dying today, it will probably not be the fault of any of you. But who knows - maybe Wilfred will get cocky with one of his fireballs, or Pyt will turn into a giant crab and eat me. I have to say, neither of those sounds wonderful, but at least they’re better than old age. I would not too much like to die of old age - be wizened and frail, need help to go to the toilet. Old grandfather Cormorant McTavish.***
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> ***You know, it occurs to me that none of you were ever really coy when it came to your names. Clwyd. Aerendyl Galanodel. Pytinel. Wilfred Seabottom. Same with Clark and Malak. In a world of Lady Lucks and Eight Finger-Driscolls and Wicked Nixes, you were just...you. I admire that. I think I’d like to correct my mistake.***
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> ***See, you must realise I’ve only ever really done one thing my entire life, and that’s to chase the Crimson Dancer - the one who betrayed me, and again, and again - who took my left eye, and then gave it back a little shinier. I have screamed her name into a hundred empty horizons, and whispered it in her ear on a hundred happy mornings - the year we were together.***
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> ***That name is Elise, of course - and in my heart I still see her, only fifteen, filthy, barefoot on the chamois rug, smiling up the staircase at the sixteen-year-old nervous boy.***
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> ***And also I see her on the island called Oleantis, holding our son Soren, the son who almost lived.***
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> ***But I don’t see her as she is now - a vampire, sailing the world on a ship called* the Vow. *Because I realise now - that is not her. It wears her skin - but I have the truth, her name. And though parts of it are still painful to me, I have come to learn that the whole of it is uncorruptable.***
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> ***Or should that be incorruptable?***
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> ***But look, I’m talking about myself again; and if you’re reading this, then that doesn’t matter anymore - only the next part. I have not many possessions, and it’s possible you won’t recover them, but if you do:***
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> ***Pyt. You can have my flaming sword - because I think you once knew one like it? As well as my glass eye, because I thought somebody should keep an eye on you.***
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> ***Aerendyl. You can have my body. Your king may or may not want the corpse of some old guy - he at least seems to be into that sort of thing. You may also keep my spyglass.***
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> ***Clwyd. To you I give all the money I own - which is not much but includes nine platinum pieces hidden in my belt - to use for your own struggle.***
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> ***Wilfred. You can keep the silver shortsword you once bought for me; and my medical supplies; and the contents of the chest I once buried on Oleantis, though I cannot provide the key to open it.***
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> ***The guns and the arcane magazine - either return them to the artificer Halcyon Cill, or please destroy them. I have no other wishes, other than not to be brought back. I’d like to reach Oleantis again. I hope you too can find what I once found there.***
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> ***Faithfully,***
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> ***Cameron.***
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* Reeling from the contents of the letter, Wilfred flicks through the book on the Old Faith he was still holding, finding the section on beliefs regarding death. He sees then that some folks of the sea believe they can return to it in death as spirits, that they might ride its waves one last time, and find somewhere that had been dear to them in life where they might live on again as part of the land. Though the Old Faith had waned greatly in recent times, small pieces of it were still present and pervasive. The party could believe Cormorant thought he'd return to Oleantis in death, wherever on Terca Mahres the island might be.
* Aerendyl finds two silver bullets sewn into the fabric of Cormorant's shirt, just above his heart. Each has a name scratched onto it, one for Elise and one for Cameron. Wilfred keeps the guns and the arcane magazine on his person, placing the silver bullet for Elise in the arcane magazine so that it would be fired next. Aerendyl takes the spyglass, Pyt takes the flaming sword named for Cormorant's friend Deena and the magical eye made of opal, and Clwyd takes the coin and gems, all as the old pirate had requested. (*I assume Wilfred also took the master-forged silver shortsword, but it's not in my notes.*)
* The four of them spend most of the day constructing a raft from the trees about the island. Night is fast approaching when they finish and place Cormorant's body atop it at the shoreline. They're all silent, until Aerendyl asks if anyone wants to say a few words. None speak. Finally, Clwyd breaks the silence:

> ***Right, so none of you fuckers want to say anything? Leave it to me of all people.***
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> ***Okay. So when we met Cormorant, we'd just come to Tortuga, we didn't know anybody, and we weren't making many friends in a hurry. He joined us then and stood beside us, even though that was a stupid thing to do. Then he went to Hell and back with us, and he kept standing beside us, even when he wasn't comfortable with what we were doing. He did that because he wanted us to be better than we were, even when that wasn't what we wanted for ourselves.***
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> ***He just wanted better for us.***
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* They wade out into the water to push the raft off a bit until the ocean takes it. Wilfred lights the body with his magic. It accepts the flame easy, so doused in ceremonial oils as it is. The gnome asks Clwyd if she'll help him send Cormorant off, and the two of them form a corridor of flame for the raft to travel through, one *wall of fire* burning blue, the other green. And with the setting sun painting the Pirate Republic a hundred shades of orange and red, with smoke rising from the raft amidst a tunnel of flame, Cameron 'Cormorant' McTavish took his leave.