Gerrard:

History Check on Granny:  10

History Check on Wood Elves:  23

Peri:

"If'n we're ta do this, we need more than what we got on us." Qivys speaks up. "A couple silver daggers ain't gonna help against tha undead, let alone tha rest."

Peri gives his spear a long, wistful look. It had carried him through some pretty tough scrapes. Besides that, it was a truly beautiful piece of work, a real joy to wield. He lets out a sigh bigger than he is, then plants the spear point-first into the ground. "That spear's already killed undead and demons. I hate givin' it up, but it needs to go where it's most useful. I can get by well enough now I've got that connection to the Astral. You or Boko, or Lankus even, might need somethin' that'll put that bloodsucker down for good." He looks to Gerrard. "What ever happened to that gnoll's poleaxe? I remember seein' it was magical, but I wasn't in any condition to keep track of things when you all were carryin' me off the field."

He looks Ferrin over, seeing something familiar in the way he winces at the wan light. "We only have cold rations to offer, and you look like you need more than that, old timer. I've woken up under enough tavern benches to recognize the look." His tone conveys more care than judgement, at least he hopes so. "Why don't you head into town, take my room at the Wicker Goat? You can get a hot breakfast, a warm bath, and a bed a lot softer than that hole. Lankus here owns the place, so I'm sure if he writes you a note they won't give you any trouble. Take a coupla days, get warm and healthy; this place'll be here when you get back."

((Peri will give Ferrin 10 gp if he'll take up his offer, and ask Lankus to write a note on some paper Peri has.))

Gerrard:

"Good thinking, Master Fenwader.  I do not recall what we did with the poleaxe, but I did try to buy magical weapons in Seaton and then in Saltmarsh get the merfolk representative to tell me where she got her impressive rapier -- and I failed on both counts.  Hopefully the weak enchantment on my blade that sheds light is enough to see me thorough against the vampire," responds Gerrard, though he does again consider what might have happened to the magical weapon the gnoll was carrying...

Intelligence Check:  18

In any case, he smiles at Peri's kindness and stands ready to aid with funds if needed.

Gerrard had carried the gnoll leader's arcane glaive back to the Wicker Goat in Saltmarsh, where it was promptly forgotten in the aftermath of that bloody battle.

"I've been hanging my socks on it to dry," admits Lankus. "You left it in the tavern. Lotsa pointy bits. We can pick it up now if you want." 

Gerrard remembers hearing a few stories about "Granny" that seems to jibe with Boko's memories. He recalls hearing that a coven of hags are bound to her service and act as her baronesses. He also heard that she carries a black sack made of stitched flesh to catch human souls. Fairy tales to scare children with, undoubtedly.

Ferrin waves away Peri's money and offer. "Nah," he says, pulling his knees up from under the snowy blanket. "Lorys won't let me die in a snowbank, try as I might. Go kill some vampires. Bring me back some good ale."

Gerrard:

"And hopefully save a few of the children of Saltmarsh," adds Gerrard.  Agreeing with Qivys, he says to the group, "So, we head back to the inn, get the magical pole axe and mount up, heading along the river towards the Dreadwood.  We hope to find the Wood Elves and learn the location of the missing children, and if we are fortunate we catch up with the tracking party that left last night."

Looking to Lankus, he asks, "Do we know for sure when the Sahuagin assault is planned?  I'd like to get back here in time to participate in that.  I have labored too hard getting the free peoples of this land to work together to let this venture fail."

A shocked look crossed Qivys face. 
"Ya should focus on 1 task at a time." he says. "Ya only have so many fingers ta plug tha holes in tha dam." 

Peri:

Peri shakes his head at Ferrin's refusal. I tried, Merciful Lady, but looks like he's exactly where he wants to be. Still, I'll try to think more kindly of people, though even You have to admit these Saltmarshers make it hard...

He throws a thumb at Qivys. "The dwarf and I agree for once: one task at a time. If you found out the attack was tomorrow, would you still go after the kids or join the attack? If you'd still go, then it doesn't matter when the attack happens, you'll either be there or you won't. If you'd stay, well then you probably oughtta stay here now rather than risk your neck tryin' to get back three kids that are probably dead already."

Gerrard:

”If we are successful in finding the vampire’s trail and locating the missing children, it is indeed a moot point.  If, however, we have found nothing in multiple days and calling off the search a day early means we are able to help destroy the Sahuagain—who themselves have been preying upon the people in this region—we will be armed with the information to make that decision.  I would rather know my options than through ignorance have them decided for me,” responds Gerrard with some level of aplomb, seeming less flustered by others’ reactions than he has been in the past.

”Let’s go try and save some kids,” he says, heading back towards the inn. 

Kei 

"Talk about out of a pan and into the fire!" With the plan spoken aloud by people the gravity of what lays before them hits Kei square in the chest. "At least we'll get to see Bela. Perhaps he can help with getting the children back. He really does seem like the type that would snatch the kids out of the mouth of the nine hells just to help, doesn't he?!" 

Bidding goodbye to Ferrin and his little companion, the party returns to the inn to pick up the glaive.

"Well, I'm neither a guardsman nor on the Council, but I feed both every day," replies Lankus. "They keep saying the Sea Devil assault is 'days away' but there are a lot of moving parts. I think they're mostly waiting for the Royal Navy in Seaton to mobilize. Knowing Seaton, I wouldn't be surprised if it's another week or two out. Beg pardon," he doffs his cap to Gerrard for a moment. "I can leave word for them to wait for your return – if it was anybody but Gerrard Feldren they would laugh at such a request, but for you they might pause. But frankly, I think we can safely expect that they aren't going anywhere for at least six days. I just hope the Sea Devils don't try something first."

Gerrard:

”Six days—a good estimate, thank you.  No need to ask anyone to wait on me,” replies Gerrard,  “Hopefully this venture is complete one way or the other by then.”

Peri:

Riding somewhat uncomfortably behind Gerrard and Lankus, Peri can just be overheard grumbling, "Be a real shame to miss out on that soiree. Yondalla forbid Saltmarsh handles a problem without us..." Mood souring despite his resolution to be more kind, when Kei starts blathering about 'Bela' he turns to the bewitched bard. "He. Is. A. VAMPIRE! you git!" He thumps at his horse's sided to ride off in a huff, but it plods stoically along behind the horse's arse in front of it. "Saltmarsh born and bred, must be..."

(Does anyone have further business at the inn, or in Saltmarsh? Are you bringing the glaive? You are all mounted. What route are you taking?)

Gerrard:

Gerrard expects they will head out of Saltmarsh to the north, following the road along the river towards Burle.  Once the river splits and the road turns west, they will follow the northeast branch of the river towards the Dreadwood, hoping to find the elves Ferrin spoke of.

Pointing to the northern road out of town, Gerrard says, “Shall we follow the river to the elves as Master Ferrrin suggests?” He begins to ride that way if no one has a better plan.

"It's against my better judgement" Qivys says. "But they may have knowledge we need." 

The party departs to the north, through the old and crumbling city gates, leaving Saltmarsh quickly behind.

You spend the rest of the afternoon on horseback, traversing the dreary and desolate dirt road as it winds its way inland through snow-covered open moors. You pass not far from where you know the ogre's cave – and the ancient dwarven fortress – to be hidden. Continuing on, you eventually begin to follow the river on your left; you catch glimpses of its icy waters through the scrub. The few trees along its banks are gnarled and twisted, their branches heavy with snow and ice.  You see few signs of life on the road, encountering no other travelers or even any tracks in the snow. The landscape is bleak and barren, with snow-covered fields stretching out as far as your eyes can see to the east. The only relief from the monotony of the open moors comes in the form of occasional groves of gnarled trees, bent low by the constant wind which howls across the open land, whipping up clouds of snow and ice that sting your faces and hands.

The weather is overcast and grim, but the snow has stopped. As night begins to fall, you approach an ancient stone bridge, crossing near a major fork in the river. The bridge, made of rough-hewn stones, is in excellent condition, despite its age. The stones are worn smooth by years of use, but they are still solid and well-fitted. The river flows beneath the bridge, its icy waters rushing and swirling around the pillars.

The road continues to Burle, along the northwest branch of the river, but you plan to follow the other branch, northeast, deep into the wild moors and toward the fabled Dreadwood Forest. But right now it grows dark.

Peri:

Peri fidgets and shifts on his saddle, trying to find a comfortable position. It came as no surprise that there hadn't been a saddle with stirrups short enough for a rider of his stature. Fortunately his mount, a rather even-keeled little dun mare, didn't appear too bothered by his shifting. Probably glad to be carryin' the lightest rider she's ever had. After about 90 minutes of unsuccessfully fidgeting it occurs to him he doesn't really need stirrups, not with his slippers. He sticks them to the saddle girth near the top, and from there they function like perfectly adjusted stirrups. His ride -- and his mood -- improves considerably. He watches the moor as they pass, imagining it as it would be on a warm, late spring afternoon: bright greens and scattered wildflowers, bees buzzing about, the chirps and calls of marsh birds. If the weather isn't always this dismal it'd be pretty country.

He looks over to Qivys and the gnoll's poleaxe -- "Glaive", he'd been corrected by the dwarf. "So? You been fiddlin' around with it long enough. What's it do?"

Gerrard:

"We have made pretty good time," says Gerrard, "But I expect we should stop for the night.  Does anyone see a good site to set up camp?"

Survival:  11

Qivys fumbles around with the new weapon till he gets it's balance and feel in his hands right.
"It just seems ta have a keener edge." Qivys replies to Peri. 'I don't get tha impression it does anythin' else but cut and thrust well. I haven't used one since I was doing a bit of soldierin' fer tha clans but it will come back ta me." 

Qivys rides on till Gerrard calls for camp.
"We settin' a fire or cold campin' it?" he asks. 

Peri:

"I say we head upriver just a bit, just far enough to not be seen from the road, and let Besotted over there do his dome thing. Pick us out some dry ground and it should be a comfortable night. If we can trust him not to wander off in the night."