Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh

"So you are their old man then? But perhaps Brynn can still make decisions for themself?" The young Rhenee beauty asks the cook with a small amused smile over the apparent protectiveness. "Don't worry, I'm only looking for someone to help me fix the place up, nothing too sinful about that, the pleasure part is all on me." She says with a soft laugh. "I'm hoping to serve some nice food there too eventually." She adds, letting the statement hang in the air, giving the cook a warm smile.

"I believe reading what's there aloud in a place like this defeats the whole purpose of the discretion part..." Esme says quietly to the cook. "...but if you struggle with your reading I can tell you what it says."  She quickly adds with a teasing smile.

With cook taking on the Hags Tank challenge, the tiny chirpy fae suddenly reappears and joins in with the chanting, her petite voice still carrying aboove the others. "You did it, you did it." She says with a wide excited smile as the cook slams down the empty cup. For her part, the young Rhenee merely raises an eyebrow at the admittedly impressive feat. Another skill that unforunately would find little use on their mission, or so she thought.

"Hi Seri!" Darixa  says to the elf, having ultimately recalled her name. "Good to see you again as well."

When tiny fae introduces herself, she just says, "Ok, nice to meet you Primrose." And as she sees how much it pleases the little creature she adds, "Yes, you are very cute." But she hardly had the words out before the fae had flitted away.  

She then watched the dark-haied woman, evidently connected to Primrose somehow, chatting with Brynn and touching them in a rather familiar way.  She was very curious how that was going to go. 

However, Gordon's words interrupted. She heads over towards this supposed representative of the councilor. "And here I was hoping I'd get to meet councilor Solomor!"

When the box is opened her eyes are drawn first to the chart detailing the coast from Seaton to Saltmarsh. She moves to take a look at it, though glances at Seri for a moment. "This would be quite useful," she says, mainly to the elf. 

It seemed a bit strange to be asked to investigate slavers. "I suppose discrete means we poke around without getting caught?" she asks, though it's not clear who she's asking. She certainly wasn't opposed to putting slavers out of business. And it isn't like she never fought off pirates or the like in her voyages. It just wasn't what she was used to. She hesitates to sign, contemplating how much that Azurite might be worth in addition to that chart. 

While considering, Kreb's complaints reach her ears. "Give me a mug of that Scrub," she calls out. 

     Cook blushes at Esmeralda’s words and takes an abashed step back, trying—and failing—to form a proper reply.

     “I’m no— Of course not! She… well, yes, she can, but—”

     He stops himself. After a moment he draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, gathering what dignity he can.

     “Well, hell,” he mutters at last. “Ain’t nobody ever been able to tell that girl what she should or shouldn’t do but herself, I reckon.”

     With that he dusts off his hands in a gesture that says the matter is well and truly out of them and leaves Brynn to answer for herself.

     Later, when Esme suggests he struggles with his reading, Cook’s mood darkens considerably. He doesn’t respond directly, but the look on his face—and the muttered stream of foulness under his breath—makes his feelings plain enough.

     He snatches up the sheet, scrawls his name across it quickly, then shoves it toward the next person before turning on his heel and making for the bar and the Hag’s Tank.

     Cook smirks when Darixa sidles up beside him, looking as though she might take on the same challenge.

     He gives her a sideways look, then shrugs.

     “I wouldn’t recommend it,” he says, tapping the empty cup with one finger. “But if you’ve got the stomach for it…”

Darixa looks at Cook, "Nah, I'm sticking to the Scrub."  She waits a moment for the mug but ends up turning back to the man. "So, Cook, you already signed up for this thing? Suppose I ought to go along make sure you and the others are ok, right? But I wonder why the councilor is so interested in keeping this quiet though."  She looks back to the box. "Having those charts would really be nice too. The whole coast from here to Seaton. Imagine that." 

Seri turns to regard Gordon as the young elf makes Councilor Solmor's proposition for him.  She reads the contract in the box, though not aloud, not here, nodding at Esme in agreement on that point.  She leans over to Cook, albeit after the big man has already signed, and whispers the gist to him.  Though how much he hears after having just downed the foul concoction he did, Seri cannot be sure.  Slightly louder, to all her new companions, she muses:

"I cannot say it speaks well of Solmor that he must send another to treat with us, his prospective catspaws.  A good captain is both seen and heard by his crew, even if the first mate does the talking.  It is almost as if the councilor wishes to keep his hands clean of a filthy bilge."

Nevertheless a glint of angry determination has entered Seri's eyes at the mention of Sea Prince slavers.  Procan cannot abide those who would steal the freedom of the horizons from any mortal as slavers do when they trade in flesh.  And while the Wave Father remains neutral when it comes to pirates such as the Sea Princes, I Sera'ele do not.  Once crew of a privateer vessel such as the Dragonfly, sworn to hunt down and thwart pirates, then always so.

She turns away, as if to think for a moment, murmuring a prayer in Elvish to Procan and gesture with her off hand, calling for the Wave Father's guidance, taking the opportunity to place two silver pieces on the bar to order a ceramic pint of blood wine (2sp subtracted).

Turning back, wine in one hand, she favors Gordon with a long cool look, then quickly reaches down to sign the contract with her other, never letting her gaze move off the one-eyed elf.  She attempts to assess whether Solmor's lackey is smirking at potential sacrificial suckers taking the bait, or just sincerely doing an honest job.  Or worse, perhaps both at once, Seri thinks to herself ruefully.

Seri's Insight plus Guidance:  19 + 4 = 23

When the box is opened [Darixa's] eyes are drawn first to the chart detailing the coast from Seaton to Saltmarsh. She moves to take a look at it, though glances at Seri for a moment. "This would be quite useful," she says, mainly to the elf. 

Finally, regardless of what she discerns from Gordon, Seri turns to Darixa and smiles.  "You are right about that, sister.  Even if others may not think so, that chart is worth more than any azurite gemstone.  We are taking it and making a copy so you and I both have one.  Captain Thorne of the Dragonfly would guard his charts more jealously than he would guard his best rum, yet I do not think he ever had one so detailed of this particular coastline."

Under Seri’s pious as a shark’s scrutiny, the deceptively young looking Gordon’s demeanor is stripped away.  What is revealed is an individual who for whatever mysterious reason despises you and is disappointed Cook is not choking on ‘Haggi’s water’, he even barely conceals a disgust for Primrose.  He looks away as your stare straight up scours his thoughts and body language.  Once the contract is signed Gordon quickly makes to leave.

     “Ah well, that’s not so bad then,” Cook says to Darixa with a nod. “Though truth be told, there’s not a decent sip or nibble to be had in this whole joint. Must be the atmosphere that draws the crowd—it certainly ain’t the menu.”

     He gives her a light jab with his elbow to show he’s joking. Mostly.

     “Signed I did,” he adds when she asks. “Not exactly sure what the point of it all is, but doing a solid for a councilor can’t be a bad thing, aye?”

     Cook scratches at his beard as he considers the rest.

     “As for keeping it quiet, I imagine none of them political types want to be tied to anything until they know it’s a success. If it works out, they’ll be first in line to take the credit. But until then…” He spreads his hands.  "Best to keep a little distance."

     Cook frowns slightly as Seri leans in to whisper the details of the contract to him. When she finishes, he gives her a quick smile and nod of thanks.

     “Why not the town guards?” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

     His brow furrows as the thought turns over in his mind. It doesn’t take long before the darker explanations begin to pile up—payoffs, corruption, political squabbles, someone refusing to grease the right palms. Cook exhales through his mustache. His imagination, when it comes to council politics, rarely lands anywhere charitable.

Darixa had listened to Cook, nodding her head. "Hmm, yea, it does seem he could have guards go."

After talking with him, and affirmation from Seri about the value of the charts, she hurries back over and signs the contract before this Gordon can leave. 

When the councilor's proxy does leave, she asks the others, "When do we go?" 

Quote from Culuril >>

Darixa had listened to Cook, nodding her head. "Hmm, yea, it does seem he could have guards go."

After talking with him, and affirmation from Seri about the value of the charts, she hurries back over and signs the contract before this Gordon can leave. 

When the councilor's proxy does leave, she asks the others, "When do we go?" 

If and when Seri sees that everyone who wishes to sign the contract has done so, she remains staring for a long moment after the hastily departing Gordon, then turns to address those who have chosen to join the venture in a low voice.

"We have many hours before the sun touches the western horizon and darkness falls," she murmurs quietly.  "We should depart immediately, before word of our impending arrival has a chance to flow like a treacherous rip current to any who may be lying in wait for us."  She looks wistful for a moment.

"Sadly, I find myself without a ship worthy even of such a short coastal voyage.  If the rest of you also lack a suitable vessel, we can begin the walk and make preparations in more privacy once we are..." she looks around The Empty Net, "...well away.  There is a store along the way to provision ourselves."

(OOC:  Seri has just come along the coastal road from Seaton, to the east, which is 'upward' on the map - north is NOT 'up.'  So by land, the trek takes us part-way back from the direction she came.  Building 28 on the map along the eastern coastal road is Winston's Store, which she would have noticed on her journey here, most likely, where she guesses the party can pick up any necessary provisions en route before continuing to the derelict mansion.)

Seri does not (yet) describe what she has gleaned of Gordon's feelings towards the party, waiting until there are fewer prying ears.  She finishes her wine.

Starday | 1st week of Coldeven | 1400 hours | Empty Net --> Mansion | Old Coast Road | light rain gusts cold | potholes puddles mud | anticipating violence | a stop at Winston’s then heading out @ 4hrs travel |

Winston nearly jumps out of his padded chair as you come through his door.  “Welcome welcome welcome.  Whatever you need I can get for you.  Honest goods for good prices.  Come in come in have a look around, shake off the chill.  How can I help you today?”

Cook

Darixa

As the group departs from the Empty Nest, Darixa requests to stop by the place she'd been staying to get her pack if they were going to travel. "Not sure I need to buy anything. Unless you guys have any recommendations?"  She would step inside the store to get out of the weather, but only really was glancing around the place out of curiosity. 

As the party browses there are many mundane trade goods not all nautical in nature, there are some smaller sized farming implements, many different tool sets including healing kits.  Seems there is a few musical instruments and game sets too.  In a glass case there are a few pieces of jewelry and a few maps.  Judging by the wares it seems Winston is something of a pawn shop as well as just selling supplies.

There is a chance you may find anything you are looking for,  If you want anything in particular just ask Winston.

     “No use putting it off, I suppose,” Cook grumbles, nodding along with Seri’s suggestion.

     “Though I’m not sure we’re all quite ready to jump straight into whatever this turns out to be,” he adds, scratching at his beard. “I, for one, ought to go shut down the cooking fires, put up the Closed sign, and lock things up a bit tighter.”  At the mention of locking up, he glances over at Brynn.

     “What say we meet up at Winston’s in about an hour?” Cook suggests. “Gives everyone time to take care of whatever they need—grab supplies, finish errands, that sort of thing. Then we can head out together from there.”

     It would also give him enough time to down a couple more free drinks before he did the things he’d just said he needed to do. Not that he mentioned that part aloud.

     Once the others begin to disperse, Cook does exactly that—grabs one last drink for the road before heading back toward his wagon.

     The cooking fires are put out, pots covered, and what little food remains is stored away. The hounds receive a generous lunch for their trouble and patience. Then Cook slings his pack over one shoulder, hangs his little Closed sign, and locks the wagon up good and proper.

     All the while, a nagging feeling gnaws at him in a way similar but far more gentle than the Hag's Tank did.

     Something about the Empty Net. Something he forgot.

     Time was starting to run short, but Cook decided it’s not far enough out of the way to ignore. Might as well swing back past it before heading to Winston’s.

     Besides… If Kreb didn’t notice him leave the first time, Cook figures there’s a fair chance he can squeeze one more free drink out of him.

Cook returns...

(OOC - I realize that nobody specifically mentioned taking the Azurite and charts. Darixa would have made sure each of us got a piece of Azurite and would have taken the charts with her. If that's ok to say now!)  

Inside Winston's, Darixa had just meandered past most of the items until she the display of instruments. She'd always just had her lute, even though she knew how to play other things. There surely was a drum, but she searches through the offerings to see if there might be a clarinet. Of course, she really didn't need another instrument, but surely that azurite had to be valuable and so perhaps she could splurge a bit on something like that. For now, she just looks though. 

Only one.  It’s in perfect shape.  
Winston is busy polishing his glass case.  It’s a beautifully crafted instrument.

Seri trusts Darixa to keep the detailed coastal chart, still fully intending to make a copy when she has a chance.  She puts her Azurite in her pack.

Once inside Winston's, the half-elf murmurs Procan's Blessing on the establishment, albeit somewhat by rote, and favors the little guy with a smile.  Seri knows exactly what she wants from Winston.  Three flasks of oil (bringing the total in her pack to five) and a Net.  With practiced motions, she stows the oil neatly and efficiently within her waterproof sealskin pack, then folds and secures the Net snugly to the outside.

She pays over the one gold piece and three silver that this would normally cost, hoping that her prior blessing and smile will avert any mark-up.  When she has a chance, Seri also asks Winston in a conversational tone how business has been today and if any others have passed by along the coastal road.

Assuming this takes five minutes or less, while waiting for Cook and the others, Seri then asks Darixa if she can borrow the chart and, if the fellow Navigator agrees, finds a spot inside (out of the drizzle) where she can begin using her Navigator's Tools (proficient) to make a copy of it as best she can.

Seri does not bring up her observations on Gordon to her companions yet, preferring to wait until the party are well away from any prying townsfolk ears.

     The gnawing inside Cook grows and growls, squirms and scowls in a way that feels suspiciously… Aquatic? Watery and squirmy and squishy and wrong, anyway.  Like the kind of thing you quickly throw back into the water if you have the bad luck to catch it.

     He stands in the Empty Net, all thoughts of whatever he’d come back for now thoroughly forgotten. Shifting uncomfortably inside his own skin, Cook’s gaze drifts—against his better judgment—toward the Hagfish tank.

     Funny - not funny in a ha-ha way, but funny in that odd, unsettling sort of way that makes a man question his life choices - but Cook had always assumed the Hagfish Challenge was more of an unfortunate bit of tavern humor than a literal description. It had never once occurred to him that someone might actually serve another person a cup of the murky slime-water those devil-spawn, depth-dwelling worm things lived in.

     It… it just wasn’t right.

     Cook’s stomach turned. His guts roiled in pure outrage at the realization that not only had he drunk the stuff—but that he might also have swallowed some of—

Nope.

     Cook’s mind refused to go any further down that road. This was not a thought that deserved attention, consideration, or even the smallest corner of his mind. So he shoved it away. Buried it. Stuffed it so far down that it might as well have been dropped into the deepest trench of the ocean.

     Down deep. In the darkest, coldest depths.

     And with that problem thoroughly not being thought about, Cook found himself pushing through the door of Winston’s with no memory of how he got from there to here at all. Not at all.

     “’Bout ready then?” he called out with a forced cheer in his voice as he stepped into the shop proper, craning his head around to locate the gaggle of women he was lucky enough to have joining him on this little adventure.

Darixa takes a moment from looking over the clarinet she found to hand over the chart to Seri. "Of course. It would be great to have a copy!" She goes back to admiring the clarinet, though she also takes note of the set of Navigator's Tools that Seri has. She had never had her own tools, only using the ones aboard whatever ship she served on. It would be great to have her very own. She wonders if the shop would actually sell such a thing.  She wanders off to see.  

Seri also asks Winston in a conversational tone how business has been today and if any others have passed by along the coastal road.

  Winston mutters in halfling, “Just two stiff neck guards as lousy as they were wet!”  Then with a smile in common, “Just two town guard come to check in on me.  The Dwarven miners commonly take the coast road too, but I suspect they will stay in their mines till the weather clears up.”

Let’s assume everyone makes their purchases, sure enough two town guard on horseback just on the way outta town, they wave you on your way.  Seems they either recognize a few of you or they’re too wet to care.

The road to the house winds through the rocky coastal terrain, often offering a view of the sea below. Low clouds press upon you; occasional flashes of lightning appear out over the water. A stiff wind blows in off the waves, carrying the briny stink of churning salt water.  (The view and smell somewhat subdued by current weather)

The decrepit house sits on the highest ground in the area. Around it, a stone wall has crumbled in many places, exposing the interior grounds. An ornate metal gate lies open at the end of the road, swaying slightly in the wind. Wild flora grows throughout the inner yard, but all the years cannot hide the evidence of a well-tended garden that once sat here. Near the house, the rotted wooden roof of a water well rises out of the tall grass.
(Currently these grounds are difficult terrain, and lightly obscured.)