The Three Sisters

Chapter 1: The Voyage of the Whispering Wind

The Sailor's Pint Tavern buzzed with the raucous energy of Highwater's port. Amid the clinking mugs and rolling dice, the Three Sisters—Farrah, Deanna, and Sydney—sat in a shadowy corner, their quiet conversation shrouded by the lazy spirals of enchanted smoke from Sydney’s cigarette. Each sister exuded her unique aura: Farrah’s confident poise, Deanna’s lethal calm, and Sydney’s smoldering intensity. They waited for their meeting, their drinks untouched, their focus razor-sharp.

The doors of the tavern burst open with the swagger of Captain Gerald Oxbane. His arrival, accompanied by his first mate John Stanton and a dozen of the Whispering Wind’s thirsty sailors, turned heads. Gerald’s polished boots struck the wooden floor with purpose, his bright coat and commanding presence cutting through the din. He spotted the sisters immediately and strode toward them, tipping his hat in greeting.

“We made it with an hour to spare,” Gerald said, his voice warm and carrying the air of camaraderie. “It’s truly a pleasure to be among the Whispering Wind’s most esteemed owners.”

Farrah smiled, gesturing to the empty seat across from her. “Good to see you again, Gerald. I trust the Whispering Wind is in fine shape?”

“Shipshape and ready to sail,” Gerald assured her, settling into his seat. “Though it seems the crew could use a night nightcap before we set sail..”

Farrah chuckled, glancing at the sailors already deep in their cups. “Well-deserved, no doubt. But we’ve got business to discuss, and I’d rather not do it here. Shall we?”

The Whispering Wind was moored at the far end of Highwater Castle’s bustling docks, its sleek hull and enchanted sails a striking presence among the other vessels. The ship, recently refitted under the sisters’ ownership, gleamed in the moonlight.

Gerald led the group to the captain’s quarters, where a large map table dominated the room. A regional map of the coast was already spread across it, detailing the surrounding cities, rivers, and the sprawling River Valley. The sisters gathered around the table with Gerald and John as Sydney retrieved a map case from their Bag of Holding.

“Here’s the island,” Sydney said, unrolling a parchment marked with the unmistakable shape of Mulbor Island. She pointed to a spot near the delta of the Emerald River, where the island was nestled at the mouth of the Silkwater River.

John leaned in, tracing a line from Highwater to the island. “It’ll take us about two weeks to reach it, assuming favorable winds.”

Sydney smirked. “With the sails we’ve got now, I think favorable winds are a given.”

Farrah tapped the map, her finger resting on the south side of the island. “The ruins are here, at the base of a mountain. That’s where Enris the Mighty supposedly perished with the Scepter of the Beholder.”

“The Scepter of the Beholder,” Gerald mused. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Dangerous thing, if the stories are true.”

Sydney shrugged. “Dangerous, yes, but also incredibly powerful. It’s worth the risk.”

The group’s discussion turned to logistics—the journey, provisions, and the ship’s new enhancements. The Whispering Wind’s binding with a Sixth Rank Wind Elemental had transformed it into one of the fastest ships on the coast. However, there were still concerns about how the sailors would manage the magic-enhanced rigging.

“It’s a learning curve,” Gerald admitted, “but the crew’s been practicing. They’ll manage.”

The sisters nodded in agreement. The Whispering Wind wasn’t just a vessel—it was an investment, a weapon, and a home. After all, they had funded its upgrades with the wealth they’d gained from the Staff of Fire mission, and its crew earned a percentage of their profits.

“Speaking of investments,” Sydney said, her tone light, “I think it’s time we saw our new quarters.”

The sisters’ private cabin was a masterpiece of function and comfort, nestled beneath the captain’s quarters. It was spacious and richly furnished, with a large table, plush seating, and sleeping berths built for their needs. A map of the known world adorned one wall, while the other was lined with shelves holding books, charts, and curiosities from their travels.

“This will do nicely,” Farrah said, running a hand over the polished wood of the table.

The night passed quickly, and at dawn, the Whispering Wind was alive with activity. Sailors scrambled to their posts, shouting commands as the anchor was raised and the ship was untied from the mooring. The sisters watched from the deck, their cloaks billowing in the breeze.

Once the ship cleared the port, Gerald took the helm and called for the first test of the magic sails. He blew the lowest of the ivory whistles mounted beside the wheel. A deep, resonant note filled the air, and a sudden gust of wind surged through the ship, filling its sails and propelling it forward. The crew cheered as the Whispering Wind leaped ahead, cutting through the waves like a knife.

The sisters stood together at the bow, watching Highwater Castle fade into the distance.

“To Mulbor Island,” Farrah said, her voice firm.

“And to whatever awaits us there,” Sydney added, her body glowing faintly in the dawn light.

Deanna said nothing, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her blade as the horizon swallowed the city behind them