Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh

(Did we explore the entirety of the first floor?  I thought we skipped most of it to go upstairs first.  Or is there just nothing worth going into detail about there?)

     Cook has some meat (weasel, but he won't remind the others if they forgot) and some mushrooms, and is fairly sure he could find some herbs and seasonings in the immediate area to go with whatever edibles the slavers kept around.  May not be a four course meal but it'll be edible and filling.  He proposes a short enough rest to get some warm food in them all and then they head back to Saltmarsh.  "I wouldn't mind sleeping in my own bed, and soon..."

     He of course is willing to help carry any and all caskets.  He personally thinks the smaller one should be left right where it is - he wants no more messing with ghosts! - but keeps quiet on the issue.  If pressed he would suggest the kid should rest nearby her kin and leave it at that.  If others insist he won't overly object or anything but he'd be entirely uncomfortable the whole time.

Quote from Kaemgen >>

(Did we explore the entirety of the first floor?  I thought we skipped most of it to go upstairs first.  Or is there just nothing worth going into detail about there?)

     Cook has some meat (weasel, but he won't remind the others if they forgot) and some mushrooms, and is fairly sure he could find some herbs and seasonings in the immediate area to go with whatever edibles the slavers kept around.  May not be a four course meal but it'll be edible and filling.  He proposes a short enough rest to get some warm food in them all and then they head back to Saltmarsh.  "I wouldn't mind sleeping in my own bed, and soon..."

     He of course is willing to help carry any and all caskets.  He personally thinks the smaller one should be left right where it is - he wants no more messing with ghosts! - but keeps quiet on the issue.  If pressed he would suggest the kid should rest nearby her kin and leave it at that.  If others insist he won't overly object or anything but he'd be entirely uncomfortable the whole time.

 Every room was cleared/described upper main and lower.

Cook a roll for the food please if you would (just for fun)

There is a cemetery in Saltmarsh otherwise a grave could be dug out on site, or whatever the party decides of course.

Wis check 9 but +2 prof bonus for using Cook’s Utensils do 11…

"By the Wave Father, it has been a long day and night."  Seri rolls her shoulders and stretches, looking like a sea lioness stretching her nose to the sky.

"I believe when we do arrive in town, the person we should seek first to petition an audience with the Saltmarsh Council (after a rest) is Captain of the Guard Eliander Fireborn.  He is one of two mentioned in the note in the third person, other than Anders Solmor himself, so one can hope he is not in league with whoever the manipulative puppeteers are.  The other person is former councilor Petra Solmor, who alas is beyond our ability to meet."

(Perhaps to Cook's relief, after a time, Seri gently touches foreheads with Ripple, the osprey, after which the seahawk glimmers and vanishes.)

If and when the party is ready to depart, she ventures to the others, especially Brynn:

"As for bearing the casket, I... I believe Procan has granted me the power to... call upon the forms of not just His sea beasts, but even ones which tread upon His coastal paths.  Salt-Blessed One, if you are able fashion any kind of makeshift wagon and harness for a large horse..."

If Brynn and the others are in agreement, Seri walks and gazes out into the ocean, concentrating, going almost cross-eyed.  Momentarily, her form wavers and rolls like a sea swell, and standing in Seri's place is a grey draft horse with uncanny, aquamarine eyes and a slightly blue-tinged mane (Wild Shape).  The large mare whinnies eagerly and stamps her foot before remembering that she can still speak Common.

"Well?  Stop staring.  Is someone going to attach the wagon and load the casket and other goods?  I can only keep this up for so long."

"Yea, a rest is the first order of business back in town," Darixa says wearily. "Ainura should be brought back to Saltmarsh, I guess." She hadn't really thought about where might be appropriate for burial. 

She sees Cook starting to go about, clearly getting ready to prepare some food. "Do we really..." She starts, then lets the words fade. She isn't going to nudge Cook off course once he's got going on food. She insists on carrying Ainura's coffin, with help of course. And once it is ready to go, she stays with it. She keeps to herself, seeming a little lost in her thoughts. Or perhaps she's just tired. 

Sunday | 1st week of Coldeven | 0430 hours | Makaster Mansion —> Saltmarsh | Old Coast Road | high wind | potholes puddles mud | uncovered plots | bearing a casket | @ 4hrs travel |

A fast meal of weasel sandwiches, Darixa’s determination, and Seri’s transformation (kelpie), and the party is  back on the old coast road heading toward Saltmarsh.

     Cook feels something inside himself settle when the bird of prey vanishes. The tension eases from his shoulders almost immediately. He doesn't hate the bird.

     Not really.

     He simply feels... better... when it isn't around.

     When Seri transforms into a horse, however, Cook is left entirely speechless. He stares. Blinks. Rubs one eye. Then the other. And when the horse speaks in Seri's perfectly ordinary voice, Cook gives his head a slow shake just to make certain it hasn't come loose.

     He opens his mouth. Then quickly thinks better of it. Instead, he looks around at the others with a grin slowly spreading across his face.

     “Two gold,” he announces, fishing the coins from his pouch and holding them up for all to see, “to whoever tells the best horse's ass joke.”

     Beyond that, Cook is happy to throw together a quick bite for anyone interested before the group packs everything away for the journey home.

     On the walk back to Saltmarsh he is quieter than usual. Cook doesn't withdraw from conversation. If someone speaks, he answers readily enough. But for once, he doesn't feel compelled to fill every silence with stories.

     His thoughts drift. They wander. Some feel warm. Comforting. Others are cold. Patient. He finds himself pulled first one way, then the other, without ever quite understanding why.

     Toward fur.

     Toward scales.

     Toward things that gather in packs.

     Toward things that wait alone in the depths.

     He never notices the current beneath his thoughts. Only that, somehow, home feels farther away than it did that morning.

Darixa picks at the food but eats a little bit. She seems rather quiet and reflective as they travel back. She walks along near the wagon, and close to where Ainura's coffin sits. She pulls her jackets tight around her as the wind seems to chill her. But her mood continues to seem somber. 

Seri has been forced to sustain herself all kinds of things during her stint aboard the Dragonfly, and even the hardtack and ship's biscuit were arguably worse than Cook's weasel sandwiches (though not by a huge margin).  She eats quietly without complaint.

Sensing Darixa's understandable pensiveness, she gives her fellow navigator space for her remembrance of Ainura.

Once Seri transforms into a blue-tinged draft horse, she does her best to pull any casket-bearing wagon that Brynn rigs up as safely as she can along the coastal road, keeping her neighing and whinnying to a minimum when she remembers to.  However...

[Cook] “Two gold,” he announces, fishing the coins from his pouch and holding them up for all to see, “to whoever tells the best horse's ass joke.”

Seri the talking mare grins at this.  "Throw in a nice kick in the shin from me as a bonus prize."  But it is clear from her tone that she does not mean it.

At a point during the journey back to Saltmarsh, Seri's Wild Shape wears off and, her image seeming to roll like a passing ocean swell, bipedal Seri is left standing there removing the harness from her shoulders.  She (14 STR) helps Cook with the casket the rest of the way.

She reiterates her suggestion that, after properly laying Ainura to rest, the group seek out Captain of the Guard Eliander Fireborn to petition an audience with the council, perhaps after a rest themselves (at whichever inn or other site suits best).  Of course, she is open to other ideas as well.

It’s quite a surprise to see the same two guards at the old wall when you get near to town, seeing your unusual burden they hail you as one moves forward to get a closer look, “What’s this here now?  And what exactly is going on?  Your the same group was headed out in the rain last evening, now you’re toting back with a casket?  And who is this here with you?”  The guard looks soaked to the bone and grumpy at having a duty at the end of his shift.

The other guard has pulled down a crossbow and is matter of fact readying a bolt.  “Just have them stay put fetch Captain he’ll wanna know.  No sense telling their tale twice!”

The first guard glowers but turns and hurries off.

The sunrise and sea breeze are a welcome familiar comfort in light of this rather abrupt interruption.

     Cook, never happy to be stopped by the Guards, is even less so when one of them has the audacity to point their crossbow at him.  His eyes narrow, his mood turns altogether sour and he instinctively starts rolling up his sleeves.

     “You see for yourself that it’s a casket, you wee eejit, so what do you think is going on?” Cook says through a scowl.  “We’re bringing back a dearly departed for a proper burial.  It’s a sacred kind of thing, not needing interfering with by some two-bit guard with delusions of importance.  Or did your momma not teach you proper manners and such?”

     “As for fetching the Captain, be our guest,” Cook continues on as he steps toward the crossbow as if it didn’t exist.  “We ourselves are looking for a meeting with them once we set the dearly departed to rights.  All you’re doing by going to fetch them in giving your own self more running around to do and earning your Captain an earful from me about your incompetence once they arrive!”

     Cook has no problem with them fetching the captain, he truly sees it as them doing legwork the party would be doing later on.  But he does not take kindly to some pumped up punk thinking he has a right to be pointing a weapon at him for no damn legitimate cause and he is more than happy to walk right up to the point where his belly starts pushing again the bolt and all but dare the kid to pull the trigger…

"What this is, is my sister," Darixa says, her tone a bit short. "Her name was Ainura Begali. Did you know her? She was trying to track down slavers."

She glances to the coffin Brynn had built. "I was hoping she could be properly buried."

She pays no heed to crossbows or other weapons. Just wearily waits for the captain. "Hopefully your Captain will be more helpful than you two."

The weariness of the last day and night are starting to set in for Seri, this being the second time she has entered Saltmarsh's gates in under 24 hours from the same direction (first from Seaton the previous morning, and again now returning from the Makaster mansion).

She shares her companions' annoyance at the guards, but keeps her mouth shut and expression blank, trusting those familiar with Saltmarsh to handle it.

As they wait for the captain to arrive, Seri murmurs a tired prayer to Procan and touches Darixa's shoulder in support, and to give her Guidance.

Esmeralda is somewhat relieved to finally leave the old mansion, she would return there but now she was in dire need of rest and recuperation after the disturbing incident in the attic, and she greatly missed her friend and would make sure to acquire the incense needed to bring her back. She had been going through the implications of that sealed letter and felt she preferred to know more before handing things over to the locals. "As I understand the information, the one who wrote the letter is someone working for some outside power that want to destabilize and ultimately take control over Saltmarsh. Question is if it is a good idea to involve any councilmen before we know more about what we are dealing with. If they managed to murder a noble without suspicion then we might even put others in danger by involving them. We should at least consider continuing the investigation on our own for now." She suggests to the others.

As the team reaches the old wall, the young Rhennee witch lets out a tired groan as the obnoxious town guards stop them, but she is too tired to protest, instead finding a seat at a nearby rock.

Quote from Oberon99 >>

We should at least consider continuing the investigation on our own for now." She suggests to the others.

 

     "Sure now, and when did we get hired to be defenders or the public good?" Cook replies with a mix of annoyance and amusement.  

     Cook goes on to point out that the job they were hired to do is pretty much done.  Yeah, sure, the question of who actually hired them and what their true purpose was is a bit murky and all but each and every one of them more or less got pressured into taking the job as well as paid to do so.  Not only is nobody paying them to do more investigating but interjecting themselves into this mess further could be perceived the wrong way by the actual authorities if and when it all does come to light.  

     "I won't speak for the rest of you but I got bills to pay, taxes coming due and a food cart to run.  If I'm going to be considering continuing any investigation I'm first going to be needing to know who is paying me to do so..." 

     All in all it's pretty clear Cook isn't opposed to doing more of this kind of work - he got to punch new and interesting things and it seems like it'll be a nice little payday once everything is split - but intrigue and murdered councilors and such?  Seems to him it would be too easy for someone who could pull all this off to point the finger at them if they kept this all secret and tried to do it without any official knowledge...

And now... 

     Now Cook is nose to nose with the guard who is poking his belly with a crossbow, staring him down and all but daring him to pull the trigger.