<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c4/a2/eb/c4a2eb3622a5fd5f4149b8e094a22fa3.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Danae Vine-Lott (https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/13428552/mqOlTT)<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Island docks<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>Grey hemp blouse, navy blue felt breeches, leather boots<br/><strong>Content: </strong>Changing<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>The Party<br/><br/>Medb's explanation went some way to reassure her.  A chirurgeon was after all hardly a practitioner of the dark arts.  Human reason, however, was but a feeble thing, and the temptation to peer into the darkness must have drawn many a practitioner of respectable arts into diabolical compacts.<br/><br/>"There's something in those boxes.  I fear it may yet live."  Despite every effort of her waking mind to dispel the memory of what she had seen in the hold of the<em>Mercy</em>, those sounds and images once again bubbled to the surface.  It took a soldier's expertise in dissociating the traumatic from the mundane to keep her affect on even keel. Accustomed as she was to the demands of campaigning, the prospect of nudity in such circumstances was of little concern to her.  She stripped off her sea-salt rimed ragged shirt and jodhpurs, splashed some cold fresh water on herself to soothe sun-lashed skin, and changed briskly, not at all concerned with prying eyes.<br/><br/>"We should rest first.  Then it will be time to seek a way off this island.  I would not stay here a moment longer than is necessary."<br/><br/>To Faelyn, the wild woman whom she regarded with both apprehension and curiosity, she said, "How well is this place charted?  Do any know of the interior, and why those boxes might be taken there?"  She paused, and concluded she was too sleep deprived for questions of any kind.  "More to the point, where can we take shelter?  Some food would be welcome, too."