The passenger said, “It sounds like your wind chime is broken, or at least out of tune.” The first mate just smiled. “That chime is music to a sailor’s ears, it is,” he said. “We will have smooth sailing this day.”
The PCs find a small green glass bottle, something can be seen writhing within the smoked glass. If the PCs open the bottle a repulsing form of life will pour forth and grow in size. A genderless beings of soft pliable purple flesh towers before the PCs, it has no detail, no distinguishing characteristics except for a narrow slit for a mouth that holds rows of inwardly curving teeth.