(Côlneth CON Save w/Disadvantage: 13; hey, she's had like those couple minutes during the first song to rest and recuperate!) 

As Alric starts his music, Côlneth perks up. She looks a bit disappointed though at the ballad as it's not truly fit for dancing.  But then with the jig, the elf is on her feet in an instant.  And almost on the ground as she becomes unbalanced, but she does catch herself.  Her amber eyes flit to Arlynn then settle on Seri, with a pleading look. "Come now, someone must come dance with me! You look like you could use a bit of fun."

With the visceral recriminations against the slaving Sea Princes fresh and raw in her heart, Seri is taken aback by Alric's song of the wondrous seabird above the cliffs of Monmurg, as chance would have it, the stronghold of the very same Sea Princes as far as she has heard.  She unwittingly takes a larger sip of her dwarven rum than she would ordinarily intend and closes her eyes, emotions conflicted and throat burning.

Subconsciously, Seri allows the fingers of her free hand to drift and caress the melody.  Ghostly, still images form on one wall of the Wicker Goat, of the sea crashing upon those sheer Monmurg cliffs as she imagines them, of the wide sky reaching out to meet the blue horizon, and of the sea eagle soaring on the buffeting updrafts high above.  (She repeatedly casts Minor Illusion to form these images, no verbal component).

Once the bard draws the soulful melody to a close, Seri is still swaying slightly on her feet as she often does, as if drifting on a slow ocean swell.  So when the jig begins and Côlneth propositions her to dance, the acolyte is once again taken aback. Nevertheless, Procan, though wild and unpredictable, is hardly a prudish deity, and Seri, having been one of the few females on her ship's crew, has done her fair share of dancing with her shipmates at port taverns.

With her eyes still closed, Seri holds an index finger up to the tipsy wood elf to ask for a moment, murmuring for Procan's Guidance to help her keep Côlneth on her feet and not stumble too badly herself.  Then, opening her eyes, she smiles and joins the wood elf, being a surprisingly decent dancer for a priestess, though as ever, with the slow-swaying, lilting groove of the seaborne nature child that Seri has always been.

Arlynn sits back and enjoys the first part of Alric's performance, quietly singing along in the parts she knows, having picked up quite a few songs herself on the sea although she never bothered with learning to play an instrument herself, relying on her voice alone for entertainment. She is quick to join Côlneth on the floor, giving both Fane and the captain an encouraging smile to see if they would join them too, knowing that the elf at least was a formidable dancer. She is almost surprised over how nimble the tattooed elf is on her feet considering what she had downed so far. "Did I look bored to you huh? I will make sure we won't grow bored tonight." She says with a playful smile, dancing around the tavern with elaborate flair.

Dancing if relevant: 18

Fane smiles as the others dance around the tavern, but does not join them. Instead, she summons a magical hand to retrieve the book from her bag of holding, and places the book on her lap. She claps her hands to the beat, but her eyes now focus on her lap and the exciting lives of the Blue Tailed Finch.

Côlneth is elated that Seri joins her to dance. And then Arlynn does too! "No, no, you didn't look bored!" she says happily.  She dances a bit more actively than Seri, though she also stumbles a bit more often too. She keeps to her feet with just a couple of times bumping into one or the other of the half-elves.  And the one other time crashing into a stranger. She was profusely apologetic, and the young man seemed forgiving. 

It did seem though that after a bit of dancing Côlneth was running down a bit though. To slower songs she was bit more willing to just sway along with Seri.  But she refused to give up on the dancing no matter how tired. "Arlynn! You see really good at this. You must have been a dancer before you... umm, well, do whatever it is you do now."  

Arlynn lets out a good-natured giggle as Côlneth stumbles, quick to help her onto her feet again for more dancing. "Well thank you..." She starts at the compliment from the tattooed elven girl. "...you are doing quite well yourself if I may says so, particularly considering you clearly outdid me at the table earlier. I suppose I'm something of an adventurer now, have picked up this and that before arriving in Saltmarsh though, like a bit of dancing. It's not so hard though, someone as nimble on their feet as you should easily follow." She says, stepping closer to the other to show her some slow but fancy dancing moves and twirls to be made to the slower music.

Côlneth appreciates the slower dance moves that Arlynn shows her, especially as the evening wears on. Having the half-elf close seems to help keep her from stumbling as well.  After being shown one particular move, she turns to Seri. "See! You should learn these steps too and not just sway like the waves over there!"  She goes back to watching Arlynn but quickly calls back over her shoulder. "Not that there's anything wrong with the waves!" 

Hopefully the music comes to an end at some point. Or perhaps the music has ended in Côlneth's mind.  She says to the two half-elves she's been dancing with. "I may need just a little bit of help up to my room. I'm feeling a bit worn out for some reason." 

"Ah yes, if you plan to keep us company you'd better not have trouble with waves." Arlynn says with a grin to the tattoed elf, not missing a step in her dancing.

Arlynn hesitates for a moment, glancing over at the other blue-haired half-elf, but then she shrugs and steps closer to Colnêth. "Will you settle for this half of an elf?" She says with a grin ready to assist the other in whatever way she needs to reach her room. "Your travels might have worn on you but the drinking and the dancing is probably also to blame." She says with a small giggle. "Now, unless you're not too worn to speak, please indulge me and tell me about your intriguing tattoes? I've been considering having one myself but never went through with it, yet." 

"Half of an elf?" Côlneth wonders, a bit confused at the jest. She gives Arlynn a grin. "Oh, it's pretty certainly the drink! But I'll take any help you'll offer."  She only leans into the other woman a little bit as she heads off for her room. When asked about her tattoos, she holds out her arm. "Many of these come from my tribe in the Menowood. They represent the spirtual forces of nature. The give and take of the patterns of life. And mysteries of the night sky. Some represent the waves of Seri's Procan, but there's also the flow of the spirits of the air, the searing of fire, and the steadfastness of the earth. But all are the remarkable story of the natural forces of our world and of our lives."  She sighs a bit, seeming enthralled by all these things she speaks of.  "On my cheeks are the runes of the stars, which I particularly follow most closely."  She suddenly looks intently at Arlynn. "You do like stars, don't you?" 

There's a long pause as she stares into your eyes. Then she suddenly says, "Your eyes are so blue! Like your hair!" she says playfully, then giggles as she goes on. Now pointing to a tattoo along her arm, she traces the line as it goes towards her shoulder, where you can't see it as it is covered up with her shirt. "This one I always think of as my connection to it all, to the root of the world, the tree of life."  Her hand traces over her shoulder, where you do see the line - though it seems indistinguishable to you from any other. "It continues to my back, to an intricate knot of all these lines."  She seems to try to follow the line to her back, but it becomes rather impossible to do so.  "There's tendrils from there to... well, all over."  She stops as they have reached her room. "I'll have to show you sometime," she says quietly.  

"Of course I like...stars..." Arlynn says, her blue eyes meeting the amber of the tattooed elf, staring back, longer than intended.
"Yes, it wasn't always like this though, my hair I mean, long story that I will share sometime, if you come with us that is." She answers with a quick grin, then looking away briefly to regain her footing, then watching with curiosity as Côlneth keeps showing her tats. "Yes, I think I would like that." She says with a warm smile. "Thanks for giving me a great evening Côlneth, I haven't had this much fun in a long time." She says with a bright smile, briefly taking the other's hand in gratitude as they stand by her door.

"Yea, it was fun," Côlneth says quietly. "I... should go and rest a bit. Still a bit drunk I think," she laughs a little and then fishes around trying to find her key. It takes a moment, but she eventually finds it and opens the door, quickly slipping inside. "I'll see you all on the Saradie in the morning!" she says, a bit too loudly, then closes the door on Arlynn.  There's a faint sound of steps, a bump, then more steps, before the room grows quiet.  

"Sleep well now, tomorrow we'll set out on another adventure." Arlynn says with a warm smile. She waits a moment by the door as the tattooed elf closes it, and hearing the noises she imagines what is going on behind the door, quietly giggling to herself but assuming the other would have managed to navigate over to crash on her bed at least.

Arlynn would then join the others downstairs again. "I think our new tattooed friend was quite ready for bed there but we can expect her to join forces with us in the morning, or whenever she wakes up again." She says with a another giggle. "Perhaps it's time to call it a night anyway? Let's meet up for breakfast and we can make plans." She suggests to those remaing at the table, also profusely thanking Alric for the music, hoping he would stick around to spread joy in Saltmarsh.

The party - new and old - enjoy themselves with a night of strong drink, good company, and general merrymaking at the Wicker Goat.  Eventually they retire, either to their state rooms aboard the Lady Saradie or guest lodging above the tavern.  Sleep comes fitfully however, as imagined sound and turmoil plagues their dreams.

Or not so imagined...

The morning finds the streets of Saltmarsh hidden behind a thin veil of smoke.  The party awakens to the unmistakable scent of burned timber drifting in through cracked windows.  The usual cheer of Saltmarsh morning activity, with bustling carts and gulls calling from the harbor, has been replaced by hushed voices and the sharp tolling of the chapel bell, ringing not for prayer, but mourning.

Outside, a grey haze hangs over the western edge of town.  Smoldering plumes still rise from the wreckage of the town guard barracks, its outer wall blackened and partially collapsed.  The western wall gatehouse bears similar scars: arrow-slit windows melted into slag, doors broken inward, timbers scorched.  Nearby, on the west cliffs, the Johnstone estate, once a stately home of one of Saltmarsh’s newer merchant families, is a half-ruined husk.

Within minutes of stepping outside, the party begins to overhear fragments of frightened conversations:

“I saw it, I swear!  It had wings like sails and three heads, or maybe four—flames comin’ out all of ‘em!”

“—flew in just before dawn, didn’t make a sound ‘til the first gate lit up like tinder—”

“—not a dragon, I know dragons, this was all wrong, twisted—”

“...my friend in the guard is burned halfway-to-hell... his poor ma's sayin’ he’s not gonna make it...”

The town square is crowded with anxious faces.  Children are kept close, and armed patrols of mixed guards and marines move in pairs through the streets, checking alleyways and rooftops, eyes cast west.  Burned and bandaged guards, soot-streaked and bleary-eyed, tell the same tale: a flying beast, roaring with flame and claw, hidden by the darkness, had attacked without warning.  Only by the desperate actions of the guard, and several noble sacrifices, was it driven off.  It flew away west, toward the Hool.

By midmorning, the Town Council is calling an emergency session.  Guards are posted at the council hall, and runners are dispatched throughout Saltmarsh until the party is located.  They are asked to make themselves available to meet with the council once the session is complete.

Eron and Côlneth both have heavy heads this morning, but their strong constitutions get them up on their feet as they avoid the worst effects of a little morning-after hangover.

(OOC - If the DM would allow, before resting, she would cast Goodberry to replenish her supply with 10 fresh berries.  She would save them in case they are needed for the next day.  This would be before the long rest and thus after she recovers the spell slot. Berries remain usable for 24 hours.)  

Côlneth had only needed 4 hours for her meditation, although after that she was up and trying to nurse her head back from the effects of her drinking. Ideally, she would make some tea for herself in the room at the Wicker Goat - or wander downstairs to get something to hopefully bring back up.  It is shortly after dawn that she would have left the inn, checking out and bringing all her belongings with her.  

The smoke that met her was rather unexpected.  Seeming to come from the west, she followed the road along the river until she came to Sharkfin Bridge. From there she looks across to western part of town where several different locations had evidently been burned. She is tempted to continue on to see if there were any way she could help.  But she had promised the others to meet them at the Saradie.  She couldn't recall if anyone had told her where to locate the ship, but if they had she certainly doesn't remember.  As a result, she simply heads south from the bridge, walking along the harbor until she manages to locate it. 

The instant she is up, smells the smoke and hears the chapel bell, Seri throws on her gear and races out of her room at the Wicker Goat.  Chagrined.

Sera'ele Eventide!  Procan Protect!  An acolyte dozing away the morning like a sea lion basking upon a sun drenched beach when she should be healing those in need!  Continue like this and they will never let you out of the temple and aboard a ship again in your life!

Seri does not stop at the common room of the tavern, unless someone there can answer her question as to where the wounded are, which she asks anyone who looks as if they may know.  She dashes out into the street full tilt, tearing off to wherever she can assist any medics and healers providing care to those in need.  For the moment, she pays scant attention to the talk of what caused the injuries, other than to understand that it was fire at a large scale, burning both townsfolk and structures alike.  Instead, she focuses almost entirely on those she can provide medical attention to once she arrives where they are, murmuring repeated prayers in Elven for Procan's guidance and tearing off strips of her own cloak to bind wounds if necessary.

Seri's Medicine plus Guidance:  14 + 4 = 18

Direct healing using Procan's divine magic has never been Seri's strong suit.  After all, the Wave Father is known for His thunderous power, changeable moods and raging ferocity, not so much for his nurturing character.  Nevertheless, if she perceives that someone is on the verge of death as a result of their burns or other injuries, and she thinks it may help save their life in the moment, Seri uses spell slot(s) to cast Healing Word on them.

The only break she takes is to look and ask after Father Wellgar Brinehanded of Saltmarsh's Temple of Procan, who she had paid respects to in passing yesterday at the temple upon arriving in town along the coastal road from Seaton to the east, just before making her way to the Wicker Goat.  If she does not see or hear of the old priest, she requests that someone send a runner to notify and summon him so he might assist her in tending to the wounded.

Arlynn would have stayed up among the last and then slept at the Wicker Goat along with her troubled dreams. As she realizes they were not just dreams she quckly heads out to find out what has transpired, buying a freshly baked sweetroll from the bakery for breakfast as she moves around the western parts of Saltmarsh, trying to make herself useful, taking special not of how Kaladek's tower ha shandled the attack. Not having any healing magic she instead focuses on intelligence gathering, trying to determine what kind of creature did this and if it could be  a servant of Sakatha, the King of Blood and Bone...

As she is summoned to the council hall she makes her way back to the Saradie to make sure the others are coming as well, including Seri and Côlneth if she finds them. She would then be ready for what she expects to be another mission from the council.

Fane stayed up late, reading and finishing the book on birds. When she finished, she closed the book and looked over a Leo. "Not one Owl in this whole book!" she says, her voice a whisper. Though the owl seemed asleep, she had a way of hearing things anyway. "Still, an excellent read. Fantastic section on Warblers."

Being late, Fane sat on her bed in her room at the Goat and closed her eyes.

"What is it?" she says to Leo who was standing on the bed, hooting at her. "I need to rest." 

It was then that she realized it was light outside and that she had rested. It was the morning, and the sound of activity could be heard outside. Frantic activity. "Is that smoke?" "Hoot!" "Is something burning?" "Hoot Hoot!"

She grabs her swords and rushes to the door. "Meet me outside! Make sure Lady Saradie is OK, then find the smoke, and find the others! Then find me" she says, opening the window for her familiar. Then the olv is out of the room, cursing under her breath in dwarvish, the only non-dwarven curse from her lips is Saltmarsh.

Seri finds Welgar Brinehanded at the Temple of Procan on the eastern side of town.  Here, most of the wounded have been gathered.  Several guards with severe burns have been laid down on benches inside the temple.  Welgar himself, already having exhausted his own divine healing, is sequestered in prayer to Procan, seeking more power to aid the town.  Most of the wounded here look like they will survive, and some are even alert, but one remains unconscious, with sharp, shallow breaths.

[Using a spell slot for  Healing Word ...]

The guard's breathing slows and settles into a steady rhythm.  His burns are not entirely healed but the worst areas around his face and next clear and scar tissue replaces scorched flesh.  An old woman beside him grasps at Seri's sleeve, weeping and thanking her profusely.

Arlynn sees that Keledek's tower appears unmolested.  The only obvious areas of damage are the west gate, the guard barracks, and the Johnstone estate... along with a copse of trees and a fenceline.  The targets of the flame attacks could be random.  

Fane finds Côlneth as she walks the docks, looking for the Lady Saradie.  The ship itself, along with the rest of the harbor, did not come under attack.

[While we wait to see if Eron has anything to add, can Arlynn please make an investigation check?]

(Spell slot used by Seri on Healing Word:  9 hp healing - max.)

(The following actions by Seri assume no one else at the Temple is urgently in need of further medical attention or care at the moment.)

Seri returns the the old woman's clasp upon both arms, the acolyte's grip steady and firm.  Startling turquoise irises stare down at the aging mother who had been grieving for the impending loss of her guardsman son (or so Seri gathers... Passive Insight:  17).  Despite her smile, Seri's gaze is unblinking.

"Thank not me, for I am but a vessel for Procan's power.  Living by the edge of the great sea as we do, He has a claim over our mortal lives, and such a claim may ever come due, upon any hour of any day.  Yet not this hour, nor this day for your son, by Procan's fleeting mercy.  And so, madam, I hope that you will consider this when, tomorrow at dawn, you make your way to the beach.  Knee deep in the breakers, you shall face the open ocean and pray.  And into the waters you shall cast an item of value as your offering.  It need not be golden nor costly, yet it must be something of value to you."

"I myself will never know if you make this sacrifice tomorrow morn, but you will know.  And so too will the Wave Father."

Eron wakes from a restless sleep full of night terrors.  His body especially stiff head pounding hammock and clothing damp with sweat.  He’s in his cabin on the Saradie, but smoke is in the air…

Eron flings open his door surging onto the ship deck the smell is stronger but, it’s not the Lady on fire, ‘Thank Procan for that!’ As he silently thanks the god of the oceans and seas he quickly gathers up three silvers and throws them into the water.

Quickly Eron gathers his belongings and runs to the Wicker Goat hoping to find his friends.