As Pip scrambles up the rigging to wave the white flag, the crew works with swift precision to lower the longboat into the waves.  The ship rocks gently as Fane, Eron, and Arlynn climb down and take their places, the oars dipping into the water with steady rhythm as they begin their approach.  The sea slaps against the hull, the salty air thick with the promise of something just beyond negotiation—whether welcome or confrontation remains to be seen.

Bale Keep looms larger as they near the shore.  The so-called docks are little more than a weathered stone ledge jutting from the base of the fortress, barely enough to tie up a small vessel.  The rock shelf, whether carved by hand or shaped by nature, provides just enough footing for a landing party.  From there, a worn staircase winds upward, hugging the face of the massive stone foundation upon which the keep rests.  The elevation isn’t quite enough to be called a cliff, but the vantage it provides over the surrounding marsh is undeniable.  From up there, the keep commands its domain—a lonely, unfinished bastion above the endless mire of the Hool.

The rowboat bumps against the stone docks behind them as the climb higher on the uneven rock.  The stairs, damp and slick in places, guide them toward the fortress.  With each step upward, the keep’s details become sharper—the high curtain wall, the jagged, unfinished towers, and the black iron of the portcullis, closed against them.

Standing on a landing just before the entrance, two figures await them outside.  The first, a tall dwarf, taller than any you have ever seen, has the air of a man in charge.  He stands like a statue of carved iron, his armor worn and dented but well-polished, his stance unyielding.  Beside him, another dwarf, draped in the trappings of a cleric but with the air of a merchant weighing an offer, fingers the haft of his axe absently as he watches the newcomers.

Beyond the nearby closed grate, two more figures linger in the shadowed archway.  A third dwarf, his keen eyes measuring the party like a hunter sizing up unfamiliar prey, stands with one hand resting casually near his belt.  Beside him, a human woman leans against the stone, arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of the wind off the sea and the distant calls of marsh birds.  Then Karg breaks the silence.  His voice is low and steady, carrying the weight of someone who’s used to being in command.

“Who sent you?”  There is something almost accusatory in the tone.

Arlynn (if she has cast Detect Thoughts):

"We have come here by our own choice, but we represent interested rulers in the area that want to make sure that your presence here is not a threat to them and that your interests here does not conflict with theirs." The blue-haired half-elf says with a diplomatic formal yet pleasant tone. "We are aware you are looking for elves and that you are awaiting your contacts but we still need some more information before we return to convince these nearby rulers that you can be left alone to conduct your business here without their interference." She continues with a polites smile.

Persuasion: 26 Another roll if help action is provided: 25

Meanwhile Zzplorff keeps his many eyes on the people back in the keep, ready to warn it's mistress if it notices any shenanigans.

Perception: 21

Fane stands next to the blue haired elf, stoic, silent. Her companion has a gift for diplomacy, one that Fane does not, but is hoping to learn from.

When the blue haired elf mentions 'looking for elves', Fane gives a slight nod, and adjusts her Maroon pirate hat a bit, hoping not to use it. She knows she got lucky with the Bullywugs, but this dwarf would be no easy target.

The tall dwarf's expression hardens as Arlynn speaks, his weathered face giving little away, but Arlynn’s spell lets her sense the tangle of thoughts beneath the surface.

Arlynn:

 His eyes study Arlynn for a long moment before he finally exhales through his nose.  His posture remains firm, but the tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction.

“You’ve done your homework,” he says, his deep voice carrying a note of reluctant respect.  “But knowing a few things doesn’t mean you know everything.  And it sure as hell doesn’t mean we answer to anyone.”  His gaze flicks to Eron and Fane, assessing their readiness... pausing for a long time on Fane.  “If some lord or lady out there is worried about us, they should’ve sent a proper envoy, with terms, not a handful of sellswords.”  His expression darkens slightly.  “And if you did know what we’re after, then you also know it’s not the problem - or the business- of any local rulers.”

He lets that hang in the air for a moment before adding, in a quieter, more measured tone:  “But I’m listening.  What exactly do you want to take back to these so-called rulers of yours?"

The merchant or cleric standing beside him is silent but is watching the party with cool, calculating eyes.

Arlynn:

 The two behind the portcullis remain in the shadows, their body language suggesting they would be prepared to take action at a moment's notice.

Fane matches his gaze and is curious what she might think he is thinking of her.

Insight: 6

But for now, she will probably never know.

"Indeed, we do not know everything, as mentioned we have come to inquire about your interests here, particularly regarding those elves. Unfortunately we are the most peaceful visit you will have, and if we are not able to return and calm those interested I'm afraid your next visit will be one you will regret ever having." The blue-haired half-elf calmly and as a matter-of-factly explains to have the other hopefully keep talking to avoid unnecessary loss of life and coin.

Deception: 8 Another one if help action is provided: 24

Eron looks at the tall dwarf, “You seem to be in charge here, I’ve brought a gift.”  He passes over the bottle of rum.  “I’d be glad to lift a shot with you.  I’m also on the look out for a long sword if anyone might be willing to sell or barter.  
Arlynn hasn’t quiet gotten to the details about some of what’s stirring in the marsh, it really would be beneficial if we could talk openly.”

The tall dwarf stiffens visibly as Arlynn speaks, his jaw clenching slightly.  The calm, matter-of-fact way she delivers the warning sends a ripple of unease through him.

Before he can respond, Eron steps in, smoothly shifting the tone of the exchange.  The bottle of rum passes from his hands to the tall dwarf, and the dwarf glances down at it, turning it over once before meeting Eron’s gaze.  "It’s a good gift—more honest than flowery words or threats.  I see you're a man who understands how these things work."

"Still, that doesn’t change the situation.  No blades to trade, I'm afraid.  All ours are in use."

He lets out a short breath, not quite a sigh, not quite a chuckle.  He passes the bottle to the other dwarf beside him, then fixes both Arlynn and Eron with a hard stare.

“You talk like rulers and crowns mean something here,” he says, voice low but steady.  “They don’t.  We're at the edge of the civilized world.  We repaired this place with our own hands, took it from goblins with our own blood.  And we’ll hold it the same way, no matter who sends envoys or threats.”  His gaze lingers on Arlynn.  

“You lot talk like you’ve got a stake in this,” he muses, his voice still gravelly but no longer outright dismissive.  “And you know things you shouldn’t.  That makes me wonder—who exactly is it you’re running errands for?”  His gaze sharpens. “You say you represent ‘interested rulers.’  But you don't say who. And I don’t reckon any of the so-called lords around here have the spine to come at us direct.”  He crosses his arms, nodding toward them. “So why don’t you tell me who’s got their eye on Bale Keep?”

Behind him, the dwarf inside the portcullis shifts slightly, his hands on the shortbow causing it to creak softly - not accidentally.  At the same time, the other dwarf uncorks the bottle, sniffing the rum before taking a long swig.  The human woman inside watches the exchange with a smirk, clearly amused, but doesn’t speak.

Arlynn:

"You are businessmen and would understand business. After we have come here openly and in peace, and have shared our purpose for being here while you have shared nothing about your purpose for being here it doesn't seem fair to me that we should need to share any more information with you before you start sharing some with us. If you are not prepared to negotiate you can say as much and we won't need to waste any more of each others' time, but before you decide how to proceed please consider these things." The blue-haired half-elf starts responding. She was increasingly frustrated with the stubbornness of this dwarf, or was it that she was losing her grip on negotiations. "You will gain jothing by trying to throw us off these cliffs, in fact I dare you to try." She starts in a firm confident tone. "More importantly to you though, we have barely arrived and already we know more about your operation here than you'd prefer. How long do you think you could hide what you are doing inside your keep from others sent here? Wouldn't you prefer to share some information in order to be left alone with no one coming here to pluck the rest of your secrets from you so that you can keep doing business here? Also, consider what you could gain by building some trusts with those we represent. We can promise you nothing but there is certainly possibilities to make lucrative business with them, much better for business than counting them among your enemies I'm quite sure." She explains in a firm but calm tone, giving negotiations one final try.

The tall dwarf's expression darkens instantly.  His grip tightens on his belt, and for a brief moment, it looks like he might just reach for the weapon at his side.  His eyes are lazer focused on Arlynn.

"You dare me?" His voice is a low growl, the restrained fury of a man with limited patience who has just run out.  He takes a half-step forward.  The dwarf behind the portcullis straightens, the shortbow in his hands creaking again, this time louder.  The human woman inside grins wider, as if she’s getting ready to enjoy a show. 

The dwarf with the rum hurries to take another long swig.  "Get 'em, Karg," he mutters, dribbling a bit down his chin.

Karg’s gaze remains locked onto Arlynn with the weight of a hammer about to fall.  "You sail up to my door, uninvited.  You poke at things that ain’t your concern.  And now, you think you can threaten me on my own doorstep?"  He lets out a short, humorless laugh.  "You know more about my business than I’d like?  Is that supposed to scare me?  You don't know $%^!"

His voice rises, almost a shout. "You know what?  I don’t give a damn who you’re working for.  I don’t care what kind of deal you think you can offer.  And I sure as the hells don’t take kindly to strangers throwing their weight around where it don’t belong."

Karg gestures sharply toward the path they came from.  "You’ve got three choices.  One.  You turn around and walk out of here while I still feel like letting you.  Two.  You dare me again and we see how far down the cliffs you bounce.  Or—" his eyes glint darkly, enthusiasm creeping into his voice now, "—  Three.  You do something real stupid, like draw a blade, and give us all a good laugh before I paint these stones with you."

The other mercenaries shift subtly, hands inching toward weapons, muscles tensing.  The woman inside chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment.  The dwarf outside takes a step back even as Karg has stepped forward.  By now he seems to have finished half the bottle of rum all on his own.

Karg rolls his shoulders and takes one last step forward, just enough to make it clear—there’s no more talking. "Choose."

Arlynn:

Eron in dwarven, “No need for threats or violence.  We can leave it’s clear you have all the trade communication and allies you need.”  Eron puts his hands up and turns to go. 

In dwarven, Karg replies:

With that, he nods once—almost as if sealing the conversation—then backs up closer toward the portcullis the gate without another word.  Behind him, the other mercenaries stay alert, weapons still at hand, watching to ensure the visitors leave as ordered.

Fane understands the dwarven tongue and the back and forth between Eron and Karg. It seems like the boiling pot is beginning to cool as Eron begins to leave. Fane will prepare to leave, but not until Arlynn begins to, in case she knows something that Fane and Eron do not.

Arlynn:

Realizing she has gravely misjudged the situation the blue-haired half-elf simply turns and leaves for the ship, following the others with a look of defeat and deep humiliation on her face.

Fane follows Arlynn, in step behind her, keeping quiet.

[So back to the Lady Saradie and then home to Saltmarsh?]

Quote from Bartjeebus >>

[So back to the Lady Saradie and then home to Saltmarsh?]

 Briefing on board first.

Assuming the team manages to make it back to the Saradie, Arlynn asks the others to sit down and talk through what happened at the keep. "First off, I am sorry for that debacle up there, that could definitely have gone better. I can only say that I misjudged them and that I will take it as a learning experience." She say with a wry smile. "That said, we have some information to consider before we decide on our next move." She continues, seeming to regain her balance and energy somewhat as she walks back and forth on deck. "They are not many but I don't doubt they spoke the truth about evicting the last tenants of the keep so we must expect them to be a hardy bunch. They are awaiting some sort of contact which could reveal more about their very secretive operation if we catch them. Also if we stay and discreetly observe we should be able to find out what they are really up to soon enough. For now we only know that they are looking for elves in the marsh and that they hide something in the keep that they seemingly would die to keep secret. There is some kind of monster in there, down in a hole, but I doubt that is what they want to keep secret. I could of course send Zzplorff to take a closer look. Anyway, if I recall correctly our mission is to make sure they won't interfere with the Lizardfolk again, I suppose you two could go back and see if you can talk to them better than I did, could be worth a shot. Having the information gathering advantage we could most likely pick them off as they leave the keep, or go in under the cover of darkness, but I would prefer to know more about them before...evicting them. Finally we could simply head back to Saltmarsh and report on our progress so far. The council might know more about what is going on and what would be the appropriate approach to the current inhabitants of Bale keep." She finally finshes, taking a seat where she can. "Ask away if I missed anything of course. What do you think?"