Arvastan watches the scene with interest, trying to recall if he ever knew anything of the old mansion, though it had to have been about three decades since he was last in Saltmarsh for longer than a week or two at a time. Glancing over at Lankus, Arvastan slips from his barstool, grabbing his coat and trident, and swaggers his way over to where the small group is. If nothing else, it sounds more interesting than finding the bottom of his cup and losing all his coin while stuck on land, and that alone is worth listening to old Wellgar. 

"Mind if I join," he asks, leaning on his trident lazily. "It's been some time since I was last in Saltmarsh, but I owe this place much; if there's some way to help the fishing troubles, I'd like to help."

Arvastan can roll a history check to see if you remember anything about the wizard who owned the house.

"Well!" Gibson exclaims. "It seems we've got ourselves a bona fide fisher king, here! It's a pleasure to meet you, lad. Oh, me? The name's Gibson Lemonyellow, high priest of the First Church of Cumian. My friends call me 'Gib' so you can call me 'Gib.'" He turns to put an arm around each man's shoulder and slowly begins to walk them toward the bar. "As I was about to tell my friend here, investigating haunts is my particular specialty. It's a rare enough skillset but I find occasion to put it to use from time to time. Mind you, it is quite taxing and requires copious time and energy to stay sharp in the, uh, off-season but I find that there's a satisfaction to be had in a job well done. Of course, by 'satisfaction' I am indirectly alluding to monetary compensation for time and materials in regards to services rendered. Now, I usually avoid the topic of money altogether as etiquette dictates, but I do find that, on occasion, such a distasteful topic must needs be broached for the express purpose of coming to what we in the business refer to as 'a gentlemen's agreement.'" When they reach the bar, Gib pivots to stand next to the priest, looking the young man in the eye. "Now, as I have come to understand it, you happen to have the ear or, more importantly, the funding of our illustrious King Skotti (long may he reign)." He makes an odd motion that's dismissed as some sort of dogmatic good luck gesture of his strange sect. "So we've established that you need me to get to the bottom of this Diplo place. I think we should get more information from my friend here and have a drink to commemorate this auspicious occasion. Assuming we can then come to a favorable accord regarding payment (and I hope you don't mind paying half up front...I'll need to buy supplies before going to risk life and limb, you know), we'll have a pact and it will truly be a day for celebration!" Looking up to the bartender, Gibson shouts, "Lanks! Let's get some ale flowing! I've got friends to make and coin to spend! You don't want me losing it all back at the card table before you can drain my coffers with watered-down ale and..." he leans over the bar for a whisper, "exorbitant tips." He winks as he stands back up and straightens his vest. Looking back to the priest, "Now, friend, if memory serves, I believe you came here to tell us something or other. I think it's best that you finally get on with it!"

History: 18

(At least the dice roller gods are consistent in their wrath)

Hugh cocks an ear at the words of Lankus. He raises his now empty glass and makes his way over. “Aye, I’d love to help,” he says gruffly. Hugh then looks to Tul with a nod before giving her a playful punch on the shoulder. “You look like the fighter type. I’d love to have a brawl if your every interested,” he continues with a wink. Afterward Hugh gives an annoyed side glance to the old tiefling, quietly paying attention to the conversation to see if there are any talks of coin. Pfhhhh.. he thinks. Who could be scared of such an old wizard?

(@inkedwolves Thats rough, buddy)

Dimma eyes the crowd gathering around the lordling and the old priest for a moment. She places her hands onto the table and uses them to push off onto her feet. "Fine drinking with you, Copperlocks. We'll be seeing more of each other, no doubt, but guild business waits for nobody." Whether this place really did have anything to do with the fishing, she had no clue. However, now that the Royal Councillor has made his interest in the mansion known, at the very least this was an opportunity to get her guild a good word with the king. She gives Manistrade and the rest of the dwarves a slight bow before stumbling her way across the tavern to ingratiate herself to the lord.

Hoping that she'll be able to pry the lord away from whatever senile sales pitch Glib has for him, she says, "Lord Anders, forgive my forwardness, but I believe we may share a similar interest in the manor." She places an arm across her chest in some form of bow, "Dimma Brazzik, Dwarven Guild of Cooks. If there's any way this manor is connected to the fishing season then I believe it would be best for us to work together on this."

Tul takes everything in. All of the noise, all the action, and the sudden movement of several of the patrons causes her to almost miss the look the priest gave her. Does he know me? Or just someone like me? Before she can think further, the one called Hughie nods and taps her on the shoulder.

”I would not want to hurt you,” she says quietly, but still lets her mouth curl up in a slight smile.

She thanks Lankus for the information he has given and then moves closer to the group surrounding the priest and the royal agent. If investigating this manor would help the town and perhaps change how the priest looked at her, then she needed to know more.

"Well it looks to me as though we have an adventuring party absolutely chock full of potential!" Gib says with a wide smile that fades ever-so-slightly when he sees Tul approach the group. He quickly recovers and continues, "As I was saying, young sir lord, payment must scale with the size and capability of the group and I'd go so far as to say you're not going to find a group more capable than this lot! Also taking into account the complexity of the assignment, and I'd say this is about as complex an assignment as one is likely to find in a place like this. Again, we'll need half up front for supplies (that's important to remember), and as acting treasurer for Gibson's Ectoplasmic Researchers..." he trails off looking for positive reactions to the name. "No? We'll workshop it. As acting treasurer for our group, I'll take the gold at your earliest convenience." Big smile still plastered on, Gib notices everyone's expressions of disapproval, clears his throat, and says, "Uh, weren't you going to tell us something about this Duplex Manor of yours, father?"

Arvastan -- you certainly recall there was a wizard named Dilpas, who lived near the town, last time you were in port, but beyond that...you got nothing.

The young noble and the older priest look at each other, completely bewildered by the tiefling's spiel. The noble, especially looks so lost that suddenly the allure of his title is stripped away. For an instant, he is not the Royal Councilor any more, but just a teenager in armor. "I suppose I could arrange for a small retainer for those who volunteer. It's certainly within my bailiwick....." He looks rather helplessly to his elf retainer who steps in smoothly, moving in between Gib and the boy.

"Lord Anders Solomor, Royal Chancellor and Lord Protector of Saltmarsh would be well pleased to recompense all of you and treat with you in regards to some of these matters should he deem them worthy. He naturally takes an interest in the affairs of this city, and is anxious to help Saltmarsh right itself and welcomes collaboration from the guilds, those who make their living from the sea and...others."  He says diplomatically, looking at Gib and the nearby Hugh with obvious disdain.  "If your belief has basis in fact, priest, the Royal Chancellor is obligated to help."

The elf looks to Lord Anders, who is looking immensely grateful at Dimma, smiling his practiced smile. "We are grateful for your help Guildmaster. For anyone, really, who believes in the future of this town."

The old preacher squints at the group, seemingly unsure if the motley crew before him, including the teenaged noble, a half-orc, some strange cultist, and a sea elf is real or if he is hallucinating it, but nevertheless, and after a big swig of rum to fortify himself, the old man begins. "The wizard Dilpas was in life, a filthy collaborator with the Sea Princes, the accursed pirates who are the scourge of this town. He used his heretical 'talents' to control the weather, to make it favorable for the pirate ships to ransack our ships and town, taking all the immense wealth and magical items his compadres could pillage. Even though folks reckon he died twenty years ago --  he, or his spirit still lives there, I am sure of it. Procan revealed it to me, in a vision. Dilpas is still up there, in that house upon the hill, using his magic to wreak havoc on this town. HE is the cause of this town's misfortunes. He and the entire house must be cleansed for Saltmarsh to be redeemed. The fishing will die, the mines will fail, and this town will crumble all around us." The priest seems to exhaust himself with that retelling and slumps onto a stool, the crutch he uses to maneuver slipping to the floor with a clatter. He sighs heavily, but makes no move to retrieve it.

Lord Anders and his retainer look to one another and then to the rest of you that had gathered around to hear the story. The young noble seems at a lost of what to do.

What do you do?

Tul listens carefully and does her best to keep her face expressionless when the priest mentions the scourge that are the pirates. 

She knows she is new here. Despite growing up only a little way down the coast she had spent almost no time in Saltmarsh. But those who do live here seem stuck in how to respond to what they have just heard. Perhaps if she just gets things started it will help.

”If you will excuse me for being bold enough to ask a question or two,” she says, keeping her head bowed slightly. “Did your vision show how Dilpas is stopping the fish from coming? And if you will permit me one more, when you say the house must be cleansed, what do you mean by cleansed?”

Tul suspects hungry seals and changing sea currents may be far more to blame for the woes the fishery is facing than is a long dead wizard.

Dimma and Tul

The priest stares at Tul for a long time before responding, almost uncomfortably so.

Finally, he speaks, in a much softer voice, and with the fire and brimstone stripped from him, he looks so much older and frail now. "His magic is powerful. He feeds off the land, drains it of its resources and turns those unfortunate to stumble upon his works into mindless thralls, and in the meantime, he makes the Sea Princes a far greater threat. His influence over this land needs to be dispelled. Remove him from the house, the source of his unholy, undead power, and the land will recover."

As the old priest mentions the Sea Princes again, Lord Anders and his elf companion share looks and you all see the young man's jaw set. "I do not know about this wizard. But I do know of these Sea Princes. They must be dealt with." He looks at the assembled group. "You mentioned coin, friend," he says to Gib. "You have it. 100 gold for investigating the house for me, and an additional 100 if you can find out what, precisely is going on there. More if you find evidence of these pirates."

The elf touches Lord Anders's shoulder gently. "Sire, are you sure this is wise? I know your history with the Sea Princes...."

Anders raises his hand and stomps the ground angrily, very much a teenaged tantrum. "This offer is open to anyone who wants some honest gold and the favor of the Royal Councilor. Up to 200 gold pieces, and you may keep whatever you find in the wizard's mansion." He says loudly, though there is a petulant whine to his voice.

There is not much of a reaction. The old timers who occupy one section of the bar, seem to be laughing at Lord Anders, while the various guardsmen in the tavern refuse to meet the young noble's eyes. A few dwarves look interested, but are quickly shut down by Manistrad Copperlocks, who raises one hand staying them. The dwarves then engage in furious whispers.

What do you do?

Arvastan is careful not to visibly react to anything regarding the pirates - his crew was independent, but they preyed on small vessels all the same; that was, in fact, how he'd joined them. Still, an offer of up to 200 gold pieces, and the draw of something to do, had him leaning heavier on his staff, but forward towards the little Lord. "I'll take ya up on that offer," he says, attempting to put some sort of the same authority he used on the ship into his voice.

"Don't really care about favors to royalty," he adds, glancing towards the corner of the bar where the locals sit, "but I find myself in need of gold and of course a desire to help the city in whatever way I might." Whether it was ridding some old manor of things that scared the locals or helping to figure out the reason for the fishing problems. The ocean was awfully empty of late - it didn't make for good swimming or good business. 

Gibson's eyes glimmer in the light as he's lost in thought, imagining what he could do with 200 gold... Then his eyes snap back into focus and his smile somehow broadens even further.

"Well that is a most gracious offer, young sir lord, but let's not be too hasty." He glances at Arvastan. "As they say, 'The devil's in the details,' and well..." he chuckles and looks down at himself indicatively. "200 gold pieces per person seems like it should be sufficient for most. I, however, as the de facto leader of this expedition, will require some specialized undead-detecting-and-uh-dispel...ation equipment which I'll need to have custom made and will probably run an extra...say...20 gold up front to ensure the efficacy of our efforts. This meager additional sum is quite the conservative estimate given that an associate and close friend of mine is able to do the work for a hefty discount given our history and long-standing positive rapport." He takes a breath before continuing, "Now to the matter of rooting out pirates. That should be a simple enough task given the capability of this group. However, it will most likely require the discreet lining of strategic palms ('bribery' in the vulgar) but I'm sure such expenses can be kept manageable in the...say...10 additional gold range." Gib's eyes have been locked onto Lord Anders' unblinkingly the entire time. "Now I can tell from your expression that this all seems fair to you since you're a fair-minded person who clearly wants to get this job done and done right and you know you've found the most capable bunch around. With that said, we'll be needing that advance just as soon as your friend here," he nods toward the old elf, "can count it all out and we'll be on our way to...save the day and whatnot!" That blasted smile is plastered on his face once more.

Hugh gives the childish noble a snort before saying “Ye’ can count me in too. Sounds like easy money to take care of some random so called wizard. When can we start?”

(Gib -- roll Persuasion with disadvantage)

(DIS-advantage...oof!)

Persuasion: 14

Tul listens as the priest then the noble speaks. But while she does, she notices Arvastan's blank expression. She thinks most would have some reaction to the mention of the Sea Princes, which makes her look even more closely at Arvastan. Did she recognize him? She had never looked too closely at the members of other crews so it was hard to tell, and it had been a few years since she had last been at sea. Maybe.

In any event, whatever the truth behind the wizard turned out to be, sticking a knife in the eye of the Sea Princes would usually be reward enough. But helping the town at the same time? This was almost as if the gods themselves were actually paying attention to Tul and granting here the opportunity she needed. She paused and took a deep breath. Always be careful of the poison of desire she could here her father saying. But this was not for herself.

"I would also risk the manor to help the town and restore the fishery and stop the pirates," she says quietly. "If you would have my assistance."

While she speaks she watches the bartender Lankus. He might just be interested in a good story, but if she did not know better, she would would also think he was keeping his ears open to learn something that he could sell later.

Dimma would nod her head, welcoming at least the opportunity to have a good word put in for her guild with the Keoish king when the young lord writes his report. "I'll personally see to the matter as well. Is there someplace we can meet with you to discuss this further? A tavern's no place to discuss business," she says, noticing that the barkeep seems to be leaning into the conversation.

She gives Anders' retainer a glance and a slight nod of the head to indicate that the bartender might be listening more intently on their conversation, hopefully he proves to be more savvy than the young lord.

Lord Anders instinctively reaches for his coin purse, but he is stopped by the old elf, who meets eyes with Dimma and steps in front of the bar, blocking the group from view.

"Your wages will be paid upon completion of Lord Anders's request. He does not doubt your abilities or honesty, but your reward will of course be dependent on what you uncover."

He keeps his voice low and looks at you each in turn. He may be the oldest elf most of you have ever seen. His features are very sharp and he has a head of closely cropped gray hair that is receding slightly in the front. His skin is crinkly and pale, like old parchment and gives the appearance as though it may crumble were you to touch him. "If you wish to have a small retainer as a show of good faith, you may come to Council chambers tomorrow. If you ask for Skerrin Wavechaser, I shall be happy to provide you with more information and  some small advance to purchase any necessary... dispelation equipment." He says it dryly, with the hint of a small smile tugging at his lips. "You are welcome of course, to travel there tonight as well. The Dilpas manor is about forty minutes walk north of town, though the fog may make navigation difficult and the cliffs can be treacherous. Waiting until morning may be advisable."

Lord Anders beams at you all, and takes the time to give you each a firm handshake, his freckled babyish face breaking into an irrepressible toothy grin. "It is people like you that give me the hope that Saltmarsh can be saved. Mother would be so pleased." He turns to his retainer. Skerrin, can you ensure that Brother Wellgar makes it home tonight? There will be a great deal of disappointment in town if he is unfit to deliver services tomorrow morning." Turning back to you, he rubs his hands together nervously. "I'd be lost without Skerrin. That old elf's been with the family for generations. We must be off. I need to write all this up in a report for King Skotti. Please know, that if you need anything, you will have my aid."

Skerrin looks up from the conversation with Lankus, and at Lord Anders's beckoning follows his master out the door, leaving Lankus to deal with the priest. The tavernkeeper looks to you all. "The old elf told me that the Council's picking up your tabs for the night. Might as well enjoy it. You all just condemned yourselves. I told you," he says to Tul, "any damn fool crazy enough to go there ends up gone forever, into the mist." He shakes his head incredulously, then picks up Brother Wellgar by the arm and starts to aid him getting to the door.

Wellgar seems on the verge of passing out, but he does manage to look at all of you and trace some sort of rune in the air. "Procan's blessings upon you, my children," he slurs before getting pushed out into the misty evening.

(Its early evening, probably between 7 and 8 PM -- the rest of the night is yours. What do you want to do?)

Gibson's smile fades ever so slightly as Skerrin swiftly undoes all the work he had put in with the boy. But in hearing the bartender's words Gibson cheers up and says, "Well then! After this rapscallion had taken all of my earnings for the night, I had planned to turn in early. But if the crown is footing the bill... A toast to our newly forged partnership and the even, six-way split of the bounty we shall have upon the morrow! Lankus, you scallywag, we'll have a round of your finest rotgut!" Gib chortles as he waves everyone toward the bar and posts up on an empty stool.