To Malevolent Whispers

The crew have assembled for their breakfast, crowding around the one you saved last night as they slurp down their gruel. Conversations stop as you walk past and dark looks follow you instead. You eat alone in your cabin, finding them already at work a short while later. They do their tasks as well as can be expected, but a dour silence hangs heavy over the Demeter. No one sings, no one laughs and no one smiles. Only the whispers linger like grey clouds, and even these murmurs quiet as soon as you walk within earshot.

The whole day goes by with the ship gripped by the same sullen mood. They still do not talk to you but continue to whisper amongst themselves.

The sun is setting by the time you have overheard enough.

Mariners will always indulge in tall tales, and it is not superstition to fear the depths. But their reactions go beyond that. The one you saved seems relaxed, but his red eyes and itchy fingers betray a malaise deeper than terror. He gazes out across the Sea, calm for now, and complains how you kept him away from his true love.

Others are terrified, complaining that you led them towards the underwater Fey with evil intent.

Some try to dull their fears with drink and ****, bartering with their peers for rations and whatever they smuggled aboard. You find them passed out on deck mere hours after their shifts are ended.

And two sneer and snicker, calling the creatures he found easy prey. They talk of hunting, ‘fishing’, of using nets and poles to dredge the strange women from the depths. Of taking the fishy bodies to relieve themselves from boredom and their mounting tensions. A foolish plan and a likely failure. But there is a chance, however minute, of them catching a Nixe and of bringing vengeance and madness upon the Demeter. {if Connected: The Almost Archaeologist = 1}And you do not like the way their sunken eyes, from time to time, wander down the dark corridor that leads to your passenger’s cabin. {endif}