Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh

     “I don't think I quite understand this,” Cook admits slowly as he studies the pages, his brow furrowed. The longer he looks, the less certain he seems.

     “It talks about the smugglers. About enticing them into slaving, I think. And there's something in here about weapons and armor changing hands.”

     “I think one of the councilors is mentioned as well...” He says, squinting at a particular section. 

     “Or perhaps that's someone's shopping list. The handwriting's fighting me.” Cook continues staring at the document for another moment before finally conceding defeat.

     “This kind of nonsense just doesn’t sit well in my head,” He admits with a frown and angles the pages toward Seri. “You understand this?”

     Then he motions Brynn over as well. “What do you make of this?” He asks her, his finger tapping the section that mentions Freedonia.  “You're generally better at making sense of complicated things than I am.”

     Cook waits while they look it over.

     “Is this shady?” he eventually asks. “Or is it just business?”

     He scratches at his beard. “If it's shady business, and connected to what we’re doing, that is one thing….”

     Cook then shrugs and adds: “But then again half the merchants in Saltmarsh would look suspicious if someone wrote down every deal they ever made.”

     Later, in the mushroom room, Cook crouches beside the scarlet growths and examines them with considerably more confidence than he displayed toward the scroll.

     Now this… This he understands.

     Carefully, he harvests only what he thinks he can spare. Enough for perhaps two good uses. No more.

     He tries to leave the colony itself intact. Healthy. Growing.

     “A cook that eats all his seed grain is a fool,” he mutters to himself. With any luck, the mushrooms will continue to spread. And if they don't... Well. That sounds like a tomorrow problem.

     When he notices Seri marking rooms and noting dangers as they go, Cook nods approvingly.

     “Smart, that,” he says. “Nothing worse than forgetting where the giant spiders were after you've already found the giant spiders.”

Esme makes a face of disgust as the many many spiders emerge, relieved that they don't come any closer.
As cook hands the sheafs of vellum to Seri, the young Rhenee witch stesp closer to have a look, curious to see what is written, about the councilman of Saltmarsh in particular.

Quote from Oberon99 >>

curious to see what is written, about the councilman of Saltmarsh in particular.

 

   “… she became very suspicious at the very end a little toxin goes a long way.  Staff carried out orders perfectly, Petra died and was succeeded as expected.  His brilliance in generating profit and enthusiasm are paying off.  Soon his dark side will be revealed- and a storm of support will bring suspicion down on several ruling members.”

  “The party will be arriving soon Ander’s name and seal are on their writs of contract.  Sanbalet will have a merry time scaring them to death, and captain Fireborn will have to mount a formal investigation…

  Just a matter of time.”

(From earlier):

“Oh. Sorry.” Cook adds. “So Ripple is a drab, depressed parrot?” He nods as though that clears everything up.

Seri grins and quirks an eyebrow.  "Aye, Cook.  In the same way that you are a bigger, slower monkey, with allegedly superior culinary skills."

(Back to the present):

[Cook]  “I don't think I quite understand this,” Cook admits slowly as he studies the pages, his brow furrowed. The longer he looks, the less certain he seems.

     “It talks about the smugglers. About enticing them into slaving, I think. And there's something in here about weapons and armor changing hands.”

     “I think one of the councilors is mentioned as well...” He says, squinting at a particular section.

...

[Parchment] “… she became very suspicious at the very end a little toxin goes a long way.  Staff carried out orders perfectly, she died and was succeeded as expected.  His brilliance in generating profit and enthusiasm are paying off.  Soon his dark side will be revealed- and a storm of support will bring suspicion down on several ruling members.”

  “The party will be arriving soon Ander’s name and seal are on their writs of contract.  Sanbalet will have a merry time scaring them to death, and captain Fireborn will have to mount a formal investigation…

  Just a matter of time.”

Aquamarine eyes expressionless as she reads the parchment, Seri feels a slow rage building inside her like a storm cloud on the horizon.

"We were set up.  As I suspected once it became clear to me that Solmor's man, Gordon, despised us for no reason I could fathom.  We were patsies, intended to be frightened off by Sanbalet, perhaps by the magical spooky noises the mage had conjured at the top of the stairs to the cellar, forcing a formal investigation by 'Fireborn.'  Referring, I assume, to Eliander Fireborn, captain of the Saltmarsh guard?"

She considers further.  "Those of you from Saltmarsh may know more of the council.  I know of another Saltmarsh council member, Gellin Primewater, and of course, young Anders Solmor is our erstwhile patron, through Gordon.  This appears to have been written either by one of the councilors or an outside force manipulating them.  It seems to imply that they murdered someone, perhaps Solmor's mother or aunt, in order to put him on the council.  'She died and was succeeded as expected'.  Succeeded by someone with 'brilliance in generating profit and enthusiasm.'  Solmor himself, perhaps."

"Still," Seri growls with genuine anger.  "Whoever this is appears to be pulling the strings on the slavers (and arms trade).  On Captain Sigurd and the Sea Ghost.  By the Wave Father, we must put an end to this!  We have already made a start.  By defeating Sanbalet.  If we can intercept and capture the Sea Ghost, that may be another way to disrupt them.  Yet we must decide what we report when we return to town.  Not the whole story, I think."

Seri's Insight plus Guidance for a gut feel as to whether her hunches on the significance of the parchment may have merit:  13 + 2 = 15

Seri's Insight plus Guidance for a gut feel as to whether her hunches on the significance of the parchment may have merit:  13 + 2 = 15

Whoever is giving and receiving this correspondence they are not in alignment with any council members it actually implies a trap set for councilor Anders Solmor…

Darixa finally comes over as Seri starts to spout off a lot of information and names. "Perhaps I could look at the papers?" she says, not sure why she was left out of looking them over after Cook had snatched them directly from her.  "You say they murdered someone," she states. "Who? And why would anyone from the council go out of their way just to set us up? If Councilor Solmor is the one working with slavers here, then why send us? You aren't making much sense Seri." 

(OOC - I'm assuming she hasn't read anything yet, so is only going off of what characters have said out loud at this point.) 

Seri had assumed that everyone could read the parchment as she held it after Cook handed it to her (as indeed Esme already was reading).

"You say they murdered someone," she states. "Who?..."

Seri points out to Darixa how it is not clear who the author of the writing is.  Hence the mysterious "they" who may or may not be on the council.

Seri points out that the part that clearly indicates they orchestrated a murder and succession via 'Staff', likely through poisoning:  '… she became very suspicious at the very end a little toxin goes a long way. Staff carried out orders perfectly, she died and was succeeded as expected.'

And why would anyone from the council go out of their way just to set us up? If Councilor Solmor is the one working with slavers here, then why send us? You aren't making much sense Seri.

Seri points out that she never said anyone on the council set the party up or that Solmor himself is working with slavers.  Only that someone did and is (the mysterious 'they').  And that part of the immediate purpose is clear from the parchment - for the party to discover and be scared off by Sanbalet, forcing a formal inquiry which might likely uncover the smuggling, slaving and arms dealing:  'The party will be arriving soon Ander’s name and seal are on their writs of contract. Sanbalet will have a merry time scaring them to death, and captain Fireborn will have to mount a formal investigation…'

"If someone is pulling strings on the council, it seems as if they want it to be found out that Solmor was the one who sent us (with his contract) to explore the mansion.  So that he will either receive credit or take blame for the aftermath and full investigation.  I know not their greater purpose.  They may be playing a long game to sow dissension and chaos in the council, or gain influence through Solmor as a puppet.  Since they appear to have compromised Solmor's staff (who slew a female relative) and perhaps compromised Gordon, who I suppose is part of Solmor's 'staff,' they may believe they can manipulate Solmor, or discredit him and thus force the council's hand in some different way."

"Of course this is guesswork, Darixa, but there is something deeper here.   Anyone have any other ideas as to what it could mean?"

Darixa nods. "Yes, it does not say who the author is. But it does say that Petra was the person who was murdered. We just have to figure out who that would be," she adds.  "And Anders Solmor," she starts, then pauses as she listens to Seri. "Yea, I agree that it seems that the councilor is the one that is being set up." 

As Seri continues, she keeps listening. At the end she says, "Yea, a lot of conjecture, but something is going on. I don't fully see what. I think though if we could unravel who Petra is, then we would know who her successor is. That would help." 

She tries to recall anyone named Petra back in Saltmarsh. Especially someone who might have died recently. (INT Check: 22, +4 if history helps) 

((Earlier…))

     “Allegedly?” Cook scoffs. “Clearly you've never eaten the crab cakes prepared by Captain Krunch's monkey.” He folds his arms and nods with complete confidence.

     “Captain claims he rescued the beast from a pack of hyenas years ago while hiking through the jungles of Chult, after his ship was laid up for repairs.” Cook snorts. “That man has never hiked farther than the nearest tavern.”

     “Unless maybe a brothel was just a door or two down the way.”

     Cook waves a dismissive hand. “Truth is, he was keeping company with a particular lady for hire who happened to own the monkey. The beast was a part of a particular performance she did where…” He opens his mouth to continue. Then stops. His eyes flick from one member of the group to another.

     Once again, Cook suddenly remembers his audience.

     “Ahem.” Cook clears his throat.

     “Anyway…”

     He points decisively at absolutely nothing. “The important part is that the monkey somehow learned to make crab cakes…?”

     “What I do know,” Cook continues after a brief moment, “Is that after eating one I couldn't sit comfortably for three days and briefly became convinced I could speak fluent crab.”

     Cook nods once at that for emphasis but then drifts off for a moment losing his train of thought and his eyes going bleary and unfocused.

His mind goes to the depths where the crabs roam free…

     But he quickly shakes the thought from his head and wraps up: “So you can keep your ‘allegedly’ as my cooking ain’t never gave anyone the runs for a full three days straight like that!”

 (And back to the matter of the present…)

     “Who're you calling patsies?” Cook blusters. “Ain't nobody a patsy unless they allow themselves to be one.” He folds his arms and lifts his chin slightly.

     “What we'll do is turn the whole thing on its ear, eh? They'll be sorry they ever tried to make fools of us.” The bravado lasts all of three seconds. Then genuine curiosity takes over.

     “Who exactly is trying to screw us over, then?”

     After that, Cook mostly listens.

     Darixa and Seri seem content to pull the letter apart line by line, examining every name, every implication, every possibility. Others chime in as well, and before long the discussion becomes a tangle of theories, suspicions, and competing explanations.

     Cook leaves most of that to minds he considers better suited to the task. He's no fool, but he's never claimed to be much of a brainiac. Still, whenever the conversation drifts toward Saltmarsh itself, he contributes what he can. Names. Local history. Council politics. Dock gossip. Recent events.

     Anything that might help fit the pieces together.

     He does his best not to pass along anything he knows to be false. Of course, being a storyteller by nature, the line between fact and embellishment occasionally becomes a bit blurry around the edges. Not intentionally.

     Not usually…

     Eventually, Cook scratches at his beard and attempts to summarize. “So, like as not, we aren't even working for Anders.”

     He gestures vaguely at the letter. “Or the council at all.”

     “Leastways… not the way we thought, anyway.”

     His expression darkens.

     “Would explain why they hired us instead of, you know... professionals.”

     Cook thinks on that for a moment. Then shrugs. “Seems to me the simplest thing is to take this mess to the council proper.”

     “The actual council.” He emphasizes the distinction with a pointed finger. “Not some fellow meeting us in a tavern. Not someone's cousin's friend's representative. Not a messenger carrying messages from another messenger.”

     He nods decisively.

     “Take everything we've found and drop it right on their doorstep.”

     Then, with a grin: “Let people who get paid to sort out problems sort out the problem.”

Darixa-

She tries to recall anyone named Petra back in Saltmarsh. Especially someone who might have died recently. (INT Check: 22, +4 if history helps) 

Young Anders recently inherited his family’s fleet of fishing boats after the untimely death of his mother, Petra. He’s the youngest person ever to be elected to the council. Brash and inexperienced, Anders is a slight man with sharp features and a toothy smile. His recent forays into trade have made him a local celebrity. Since Anders owns both a fishing fleet and several trading vessels, he can sell his catch at a highly competitive price. And he can offer better prices for the other fishers in town to sell to him, since his catch brings in so much more profit.

Everyone involved in the town’s fishing industry supports Anders, and his energy and ambition have made him something of a folk hero on the docks. On the other hand, his open opposition to smuggling and his hatred of the Sea Princes’ practice of slavery makes him a thorn in the smugglers’ side.

(This is the local perspective on Anders, he is young and has not held his position for very long.  His mother was very well known more of a loyalist then the other councilors) 

When Cook halts his story about the lady for hire, the monkey, and a particular performance, Darixa looks at him with mock surprise. She waits, until he done rambling about the councilor and suggesting the talk to the 'real council', to speak. "What I really need to know though is what sort of performance that lady for hire was doing.  I mean, I perform and I like to be hired for my performances. And you made it sound like she gave a really good performance. So I think you have to tell me more.  Are you saying I should get a monkey? And are the crab cakes important? I'm not sure if I like those.  What if he made pies? I love pies."

She sounds serious.  And when she grows quiet, she gives him a long earnest look. 

Though she waits for an answer, she eventually speaks up about Councilor Solmor. "I've been thinking about it, and I remember a woman dying suddenly and her son inherited the family fleet of fishing boats. That was Councilor Solmor that now owns the fleet.  Petra was his mother." She goes on to explain all of what she had remembered. "Whoever wrote the note killed Petra to make Solmor more prominent.  But now they clearly want to see him brought down." She again looks at Cook. "I wonder if someone on the council is either the person responsible for this, or at least a part of it. Who else would gain the most from making him look bad? I would not go to the whole council."

Darixa thinks a moment before going on. "You may be right that the Councilor didn't hire us. Seri saw the odd way Gordon acted. Maybe Solmor didn't really know. And he's the one at risk here. So, maybe he's the person to talk to." She shrugs a bit. "Hard to be sure. But as Seri said, taking care of those slavers aboard the Sea Ghost is probably a priority. We do that, even bring back some of those responsible, and then their plot is foiled."

"Now, when was that ship due?" she asks. "And what was it we were supposed to do when we returned to town?"

     “I... I... don't really remember the rest of the story,” Cook claims reluctantly, his eyes dropping to the floor.

     This is, of course, a complete lie. Cook remembers the rest of the story perfectly well. Unfortunately, he also remembers who is standing nearby. There's a time and place for dirty jokes, sailor tales, and the sort of stories that become funnier with every mug of ale.

     The current company is not that time. Nor that place. So he tries and lets the tale die an abrupt and merciful death.

     When the conversation shifts back toward respectable topics such as slavery, corruption, and conspiracies, Cook looks considerably more comfortable. He clears his throat and folds his arms.

     “Telling the whole may be safer than telling a single councilor,” he suggests. “Even if Solmor's the one in danger, that doesn't mean he'd be able to root out whoever's behind all this.”

     Cook shrugs.

     “It’s hard finding the rat even when you know he’s in the cellar,” Cook suggests. “But some light and some extra eyes helping you look makes it a mite bit easier…”

     “As for the Sea Ghost...” Cook scratches thoughtfully at his beard. “I believe our captives said there'd be no way to lure it back here now. That it'll head to Seaton and be done with this place.”  ((Or am I misremembering that?))

     “Even if we're enough to take a pirate ship once we get aboard, there's still the matter of finding the damned thing first.”

     “And catching it.” He gestures vaguely toward the sea outside.

     “Which is considerably harder when it's already set sail and we’re…”

     Cook looks around the room.

     “Don’t even have a ship.”

     He pauses a moment for emphasis before adding: “Which I feel is an important disadvantage in any naval pursuit.”

(Earlier, regarding Cook's monkey-cook story):

Seri's smile broadens.  "Cook, the strange tale I have just heard you tell sounds like a bunch of allegations.  Hence yes, allegedly superior culinary skills.  And yet, by the Wave Father, I seem to have a soft spot for your food and for the man who prepares it, and fights by my side as you have today."

(Back to present):

"Yes, there may be wisdom in telling the whole council, and showing them what is written here.  The others knowing that Petra Solmor was murdered by poisoners, and Anders is being manipulated may further discredit him, but perhaps not in the way that these manipulative puppeteers intend.  Either way, we clear away the fog which obscures the sea and let the sunlight sparkle on the waves, illuminating all in plain sight if we can."

"As for a naval pursuit of the Sea Ghost, I hope it is not needed.  We need but a rowboat such as what Sanbalet had.  By Ned's account, the Sea Ghost approaches within rowing distance of shore and exchanges nighttime signals with a lantern-bearer at the window here.  There is then is an exchange of smuggled goods.  A rowboat going out to meet the vessel.  Only we, not Sanbalet, shall be on that rowboat, hidden under cover of dark."

"Captain Sigurd shall not know until it is too late."  There is an almost bloodthirsty glint in Seri's aquamarine eyes.

"Ned, do you believe such a plan might work?  Have I gotten the details of the signaling and exchange with the Sea Ghost wrong?"

Ned, "That is how we have conducted our exchanges with the Sea Ghost they have been smuggling weapons and armor up the coast beyond Saltmarsh recently and aren't due for a few days yet.  The rest of our crew, those what got away are headed most likely for contacts in Seaton.  If you do as you say, Captain Snake-eyes Sigurd won't be aware of your presence till you're close enough to board ship."  As Seri gets a hard look in her eyes Ned looks away.  "I don't know anything about the councillors or murdering this Petra Solmor.  I know the guard in Seaton who works for Captain Sigurd, I'd like to cooperate for not being executed."

Ned guides the party through the rest of the mansion rooms with a diligent search and a little caution a couple more swarms of spiders are avoided and the spoils are as follows;  

Library- This room was once a library, with bookshelves around the walls. Most of the shelves are broken, and in many places they have come away from the wall. The few shelves still intact are empty, but a pile of books rests in the southwest corner.

The fourteen books in the heap untidily thrown into the corner are covered with cobwebs, vermin droppings, and harmless mold. All are partially ruined but are still legible. Most of the books (11) are dull (histories, collections of romantic poems, and so forth), but three are quite noteworthy. These three books bear clear titles on their spines:

The Magical Properties of Gemstones by the archmage Tenser

The Magical Properties of Herbs and Flowers by the archmage Tenser

The Metaphysics of Mathematics by the mage Nystul

Inside the third volume lies a piece of parchment torn from a larger sheet, containing a few lines of handwritten text in the Common tongue. Dampness has spoiled it so that only two words are legible: “beyond skeletons.”

These 3 books can be sold for 7 gp each, the others fetch a silver each.

Study- This room was once a writing room or study. Against the wall under the windows sits a large wooden writing desk, partially broken and riddled with damp rot. There are three drawers in each side of the desk and a large central drawer; the latter is closed, but the others are all open — and two of them have been broken open forcibly.

The central drawer is locked.  Thieve's tools DC 10

 Living area-  a door in the north wall leads onto a small patio, the paving cracked and overrun with weeds. Other than a pile of refuse in the southeast corner, the room is bare.

Ned warns about the secret trapdoor in the northern half of the room leading to the cellar. One of the sets of tracks found in the entry leads to this trapped (magic mouth/fear) trapdoor.

Dining Room-  At one time a long table stood in the center of this room; now it lies broken on the floor. A broken chair sits against the wall between the windows, and there is a heap of broken dishes in the northwest corner.

There is nothing else of note here.

Withdrawing Room-  2 stuffed armchairs stand near the fireplace of this room. The covers of both have been torn and the stuffing has been pulled out, but the wooden frames are intact. A broken table lies on the floor near the north wall.

DC 12 Wisdom (Perception) check

 Mouldering Bedroom- What was once a fine master bedroom now stands decayed. Some of the floorboards are missing, and there is rubbish scattered around. A tall wooden wardrobe stands against the wall opposite the fireplace, its door closed.

The wardrobe contains two items: a pair of old, cracked leather boots, and a ragged cloak hanging on a peg. The cloak is tooled with a design of coiling ivy leaves.

Decrepit Bedroom- Rubbish is scattered around what was once a fine guest bedroom; there is evidence of foul play. A four-poster bed stands against the wall opposite the fireplace. Its woodwork marked by rope and struggle, the curtains that once screened the bed are torn and stained. There is no bed linen, but the bed is mostly intact.

While some smugglers have slipped away to 'nap' here in recent months, there is nothing of particular note here.

 Alchemist's Bedroom-  Damp mold covers portions of the walls and ceiling in this large bedroom, and rubbish is strewn liberally around the floor. In the center is a single mattress that has been badly torn, from which stuffing protrudes. Under the window sits a large wooden chest, the timbers split and its lid closed.

The chest is not locked and opens easily. Inside is a pile of moldy, ragged clothing in styles that were never in fashion — nothing of value — and a bundle of documents. These pages are rotted and stained, their meaning lost long ago.

Box Room-  This room appears to have been used for storage. A large, ill-made oak chest stands under the window, its lid closed. Elsewhere in the room lie three broken wooden chairs, two splintered wooden buckets, and a mildewed sack. Just inside the door is a heap of stylish clothing; these garments have collected little dust, appearing to have been placed here only recently.

The chest is empty and the sack contains drab, rotted clothing — laundry soiled long ago by the house’s former owner. Those who untangle the balled contents find an inordinate number of wool socks. 

(Darixa Perception: 16)

Darixa noticed the out of place stone on the chimney of the Withdrawing Room. She steps towards it to take a lookand see if she can pull it out.  

If she notices the swarm of spiders quickly enough, she would cat Starry Wisp at itand back away.  

(Spell Attack: 23, Damage: 1 radiant)

In the Box Room, she would be interested in the stylish clothes, taking a look at them more closely.  

You feel like you should recognize this style, geometric pattern of contrasting colors (dark red, pale blue)… cut rather tall and slim.  A heavy cloak (red) with a stylish bronze pin.

“You looking to take a trip, then?” he asks Brynn with a grin. “Question is, what sort you prefer?” He gestures toward the mushrooms.

“One kind ends with seeing strange colors and talking to trees. The other ends much the same but with the possibility of never being heard from again…”

"I'd never say no to a good one." Brynn's grin doesn't falter. "Inspiration comes in many forms." They follow Cook and D over to the shrooms, hovering as they both investigate and when the big man eventually harvests the delicate fungi. They watch as he takes a sample, leaving some behind to be left to repopulate. Speaking of inspiration... The shipwrights thought process continues down that mycelium 'rabbit' hole and naturally, they get distracted with tinkering as discussions unfold.

"This bauble from the fireplace appears to be nothing more than a weight, likely one of a set for Makaster's alchemy balancing scale.  Without much value unless we find the others.  Certainly not worth angering an army of arachnids as we would have had we reached in."

"Aye," Brynn's eyes break away from their current focus to seek Seri's. "Good find, bright-eyes." They reach out with a smile. "Found most of the scale set in the lab below." They note. "This should complete it." Their satisfaction to make the set whole again was genuine as they'd reunite the pieces in their growing pack of goodies.

While they were invited to review the documentation, Brynn was a bit guilty in refocusing back on their tinkering before they remembered to check it out along with the others. That didn't mean they were kept out of the loop, nor did it mean they weren't paying attention. They were. As they always do. Their ears listened while their hands fastened. It's a pretty good trade off, most of the time.

But he quickly shakes the thought from his head and wraps up: “So you can keep your ‘allegedly’ as my cooking ain’t never gave anyone the runs for a full three days straight like that!”

"Allegedly." Brynn's voice slips in almost a matter-of-factly post Cook's claim.

As the group's ready to move on to the other rooms, Brynn brushes off their hands as they do after completing some work. Nothing fancy, just a little upgrade/reinforcement to the mushroom area to replicate an incubation/fruiting space for the cultivation of them, and potential future expansion to a mobile farm they could take on a ship. That's some sustainability and/or profit making potential right there. The brief mention of wondering if they could take the Sea Ghost was enough inspiration for the shipwright to think beyond this base. What? A tinkerer can dream.

"Welp." Brynn scratches an itch at their temple. "Fer simplicity sake..." They gesture, not necessarily at anything in particular, as they start to walk and talk. "With the information we got, an' some werk still ahead, my current mind set be: Right now, I can back a man who's momma was essentially assassinated an' currently uses his new influence teh benefit the werkers an' fishing an' trade." They continue to share their base thoughts out loud. "An' a big ol' **** you to the person, organization an' their affiliates, who murdered D's sister; to those responsible fer the neglect of the young girl in the attic; to the slavers, slave masters, their base(s) of operation, their assets, their information, an' their whole system of abuse." Their hands come together and they crack their real knuckles. "What a time teh be a shit disturber an' chaos goblin. Minimum, disrupt their plans. Maximum, dismantle it frum the inside out if ya hafta." They shrug almost nonchalantly prior to walking through the next door way only to be distracted by the wall of books.

Holding their hands out with a little wiggle of their fingers, Brynn gets to work. They pluck away at the titles of interest, and eventually work their way along into the study. Coming upon the locked drawer a hum of curiosity escapes them. With a few clicks, they shift their prosthetic into 'thieving mode'. Delicate precise picking tools protrude from finger tips and are used to pick the lock. It's a little stiff, and Brynn may have used the wrong size at first, but after a good curse under their breath to guide their final steps... click. They're in.

(Thieve's Tools: 7 Guidance: 3 Proficiency: 2 = 12 vs DC10)

And as the house investigation continues, Brynn supports the efforts by assisting or noting each unique find.

Seri grins in mild surprise and happily hands over the shiny alchemist's weight she had retrieved from the spider-infested fireplace to Brynn.

She lets the others sort out the findings in other rooms with one exception.  She does ask if she can keep Tenser's tome on The Magical Properties of Herbs and Flowers for later reading, explaining that at Seaton's Temple of Procan,  she had been trained to use aHerbalism Kit, but would like to brush up and expand her knowledge.  As an acolyte at the time, Seri had shown little interest in landbound plants, but perhaps it might prove useful...

She nods to any, like Brynn, who might find their own reasons to undertake an attempted take-over of the Sea Ghost when the opportunity arrives.  But it is clear that for Seri, the primary motivation is to mete out the Wave Father's dreadful judgement to slavers.  If in so doing, they can thwart hidden puppeteers who suborn slavery by manipulating pirates and politicians in some twisted scheme to further their own mysterious aims, then all the better.

Almost as an afterthought, Seri gently touches Ned's shoulder in thanks for his confirmation.  She takes the messenger at his word.

     “So it's not your crew aboard the Sea Ghost?” Cook asks, trying to sort it all out. “Your mates took off in another boat and are likely headed for Seaton. The Sea Ghost and this Captain Sigurd aren't actually part of your lot - just smugglers you do business with?”

     Cook scratches at his beard. “Huh.”

     He'd been assuming they were all one crew, one gang, one big pile of trouble.

     “If they're separate, then maybe the Sea Ghost doesn't know anything's happened here yet.” He looks back to the prisoner.

     “Would your escaped mates have any way to contact the Sea Ghost besides the lantern signals?”

Ned warns about the secret trapdoor in the northern half of the room leading to the cellar. One of the sets of tracks found in the entry leads to this trapped (magic mouth/fear) trapdoor.

     “Do these things… traps…. Magic alarms… need refreshing, or are they just... there?” Cook asks, not entirely sure he's expecting an answer. He squints at the area in question.

     “Could we just break up the boards and ruin the whole thing, or would that not work?” After a moment he shrugs. Truth be told, he doesn't expect to be coming back here anyway. So why worry overmuch?

     For the rest of the search, Cook mostly serves as muscle. He trails along behind the others, keeping watch while they inspect debris, sift through odds and ends, and poke their noses into every suspicious corner they can find.

     Cook has little interest in most of it himself.  Unless someone asks for his help, he leaves the investigating to those who enjoy that sort of thing.

"Allegedly." Brynn's voice slips in almost a matter-of-factly post Cook's claim.

     “Don't blame me for people who go messing about with a sick ostrich,” Cook grumbles. He folds his arms and shakes his head.

     “Some lessons a body ought to learn without needing to be taught.”

     “Honestly, I don't even know which part of that story is the worst decision.” Cook says and then pauses for the briefest of moments… “Actually, no. I do.”

     Cook points emphatically.

     “It was the ostrich.”

"What a time teh be a shit disturber an' chaos goblin..." Brynn is saying a bit later.

     “You?" Cook counters with playful skepticism.  "A disturber, sure. But a chaos goblin?  Nahhh.  You’re not that cute.”  He smirks and gives her a wink and then realizes what he said so hurries on.