Dimma gives the arrangement of raw meat a raise of an eyebrow, "Moradin's beard..." Dimma curses, as she secretly invokes the name of her deity for his guidance, "Tartare...? A peculiar taste for this region." She continues to eye the Baron's meal, trying to deduce the meat's origin by its color, its grain, and - when the Baron takes a bite - its give.

Investigation: 12 + 2 (+2 if I can add Cook's Utensils proficiency to this check)

Tul, seeing how receptive the Baron was to Gib’s flattery, decides to stay out of the conversation. Her direct approach might not be best in this situation. Instead she puts a smile on her face as she looks around the room at the luxurious decorations. At the same time, without staring, tries to get a better look at the Baron’s mouth and teeth. Tearing into raw meat tends to take very sharp teething.

Perception: 25  

Dimma -- based on your culinary expertise and past experience with the cuisine of Keoland and the maritime people around Saltmarsh, you can tell that this meat is very uncommon indeed -- give its condition, its hard to determine what specific creatures they are, but it seems unlikely to you that they would be native to these islands, this close to Saltmarsh. What is particularly curious though, is the meat seems very fresh; not at all what you would expect from imported meats, which usually take on a grayish color from the salting cure used on them.

Tul, you watch Baron Fortune eat, and his teeth appear to be no sharper than the average human's. It is when he smiles, however, that is most unsettling thing happen --as he smiles, his mouth full of glistening, pearly white teeth, it seems as though, maybe, there are too many teeth in his mouth. As soon as the smile disappears, however, so does that appearance.

The Baron finishes his repast and claps his hands together. Out of nowhere, two frightened looking figures, a Kenku and a human emerge from the shadows and begin clearing away. "Mr.  Gib, you said you were a religious man, yes? A priest of some kind. That is interesting. I find myself in need of some counselors for those on this island. Tell me, have you considered settling down and leaving behind your...Gallavanting Globetrotters? I could provide you with some incentives to stay." He open his arms wide. All of you are of course welcome to establish yourself on this island. You can be whomever you wish here, and I am always in need of those who know how to wield REAL power."

Tul maintains her calm demeanor but her thoughts inside are racing. She wants as little to do with this Baron as possible.

Tul bows to the Baron.

"Your offer is very generous, Baron," she begins. "However, I must regrettably decline your invitation. My father was a firm believer that one should always hold integrity and sincerity as first principles. I have agreed to perform a task and to deviate from that now would betray those principles."

She pauses, already regretting not following her first instinct and letting Gib do the talking.

"Councillor Gellan Primewater, asked us to investigate, with your leave, disturbing stories about the Pale Prow." 

If you actually bothered to look at Gibson's ghoulish face, you would see that his smile remains unchanged; although a more perceptive individual might notice that it no longer extends to his eyes. With a turn of his head to regard Tul as she speaks, Gib's eyes literally flash at the invocation of Primewater's name.

Slowly, Gibson's head pivots back to the Baron with a slightly less intense smile than before. He speaks in a much more measured, less boisterous manner than you have grown accustomed to. "As my illustrious associate says, our journey is at the financing of one Mr. Primewater. However, we are employed by multiple councilmembers and it is our job, as bona fide agents of such, to insist on their relative anonymity as many cogs in the machine are set to come off at the slightest provocation...or even implication. We must protect their varied interests for the sake of our future employment. I'm sure you understand the delicacy with which we must tread."

Gibson closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them once more and allowing his face to melt back into its default of 70% chompers/30% twinkle eyes. "Now you say you never back losers..." He comically and insincerely scowls for a moment before chuckling and resuming. "We're not here for any sort of contest, Your Lordship! We're simply on a fact-finding mission and hoping that we can reach some sort of mutually-beneficial agreement with those who help us along the way. Now, I'm hoping that the prospect of lucrative political and business dealings with our benefactors might be enough to persuade both you and Mr. Sufocan to hear us out, considering the depth of involved pockets and whatnot."

Cocking his head in thought, Gibson looks lost in thought for a moment. "...and she's right, Your Lordship, it is a very generous offer! I've gotta say, I'm pretty torn at the moment. While we have to see this job through, I find myself stuck between enjoying the life of wandering the world to spread the good news of oblivion and the prospect of settling down with an entire enclave of souls to shepherd to the void. And I have a new fruit-flavored drink concocted that I think would be perfect for island life!" He strokes his chin. "Let me get back to you on that!"

Baron Fortune's grayish-black eyebrows raise as Tul speaks. He studies the half-orc silently for a few moments, staring unblinkingly at her perhaps a few seconds longer than  is comfortable before he speaks. "That is sound advice.  Your father must be wise indeed. And Councilor Primewater is concerned about these disturbing stories? Curious. If one would believe half the disturbing stories one hears about me, for instance, I would likely have a band of adventurers at my door weekly."

He throws back his head and laughs, a sound that all those present, including his servants, wince at. It is, to put it mildly, a deeply unpleasant noise.

Turning back to Gib, the Baron's eyes narrow as Gib talks more and more. "So, it is to be a negotiation with Captain Sufocan eh? Did Gellan tell you nothing about this ship?"

He pauses, and looks to Dimma, Hugh, and Wist, the only ones who haven't spoken yet. "Do all of you seek to...avoid conflict with the Pale Prow?" He grins that same, overly broad smile that shows off too many teeth. "I think I understand you all now. You are very similar to Captain Sufocan himself, it seems." He stands and turns his back to you. "You are all pawns in a larger game, with no idea what is at stake. Sufocan can no more accept what you offer than you have power to offer it. You may go, with my blessing and try and entreat with the Captain. It should prove amusing, at least, once you come upon the ship and its crew, to see what you make of it." He looks outside through one of the large windows in the library. "If you wish to simply speak to the Captain, you should approach the ship under a white flag after nightfall." He turns back to you and makes a small tut-tut sound. "If I were in your position though, I would strike fast...and decisively. Take what you want. Then use your knowledge to curry more of the only currency that matters here. Power."

He waves a long elegantly gloved hand airily, in a gesture that seems both lordly and mocking at the same time. "Nevertheless, I appreciate your visit here first. It demonstrates a respect that is most appropriate. If you reconsier my offer and wish to take up a role on the island, please see me anytime. Morningstar Island thrives on new blood. My servant, Scraper, will provide you with directions for reaching Captain Sufocan's ship."

A stooped Kenku comes closer to you. "Scraper will provide you with directions," he says, in a reasonable approximation of the Baron's voice, then , in a different voice, the Kenku says, "Follow me, please."

Through a mouthful of food, Hugh will explain to the Baron. “Well y’see, them over there are the... uh brains of the bunch— Tul and Gib. But y’see over here, are the brawns. Ol’ Hughie is here for one reason and one reason only. To kick some butt and earn some coin.” 

Hugh then turns to Wist and Dimma. “Who knows about them though.” He says, swallowing his food.

Tul bows to the Baron again and the follows Scraper.

Once away from the Baron, and staying back from Scraper, she whispers to the others, "I suspect the Baron is telling the truth and that our new blood is exactly what he would most like about us."

She then moves closer to Scraper.

"Thank you for your help, Scraper," Tul says then pauses before saying "The Baron is a unique individual. He must be quite interesting to work for. Have you been here long?"

Gibson facepalms at the sight of Hugh taking food from the Baron's table and biting into the raw meat.

"You've been incredibly generous with both your hospitality and advice, Your Lordship. We'll take your words into consideration as we take our leave. Thank you." He turns on his heel and follows the kenku.

Hugh - -- you probably know what's coming. Give me that sweet CON save.

Con Save: 8

As Hugh scoops up a handful of meat and shovels it into his mouth, he feels something catch as he realizes its much...slimier than you thought. It seems to stick in your throat and you retch a bit, before vomiting up. You are considered Poisoned for the next 1 hours.

The Baron wrinkles his nose and sighs. "And there goes my thousand gold piece carpet. Wendell, do be a dear and clean that up." Straightening up, the Baron grins his wolfish grin at Hugh. "No worries old man. The richer meats are something of an...acquired taste. I hope it will not stay with you for too long. Lesson learned, if nothing else." Fortune is still laughing his horrific laugh as you leave.

The Kenku who leads you outside does not meet your eyes, instead keeping his head bowed. He answers Tul's question in a voice that strings together words in a variety of tones -- male and female, clearly elven or dwarvish, in such a disjointed way as if to be almost beautiful.

"Scraper very lucky to serve Baron Fortune. Scraper taken good care of by Baron. I love life on Morningstar Island." The Kenku refuses to say more and leads you out to the front of the manor and points out into fog speaking this time very clearly in the Baron's strong voice. "The Pale Prow is anchored at my private docks on the other side of the island. Scraper here has exact coordinates if you wish to sail there. I assume one of you has some capacity with sailing vessels. Otherwise, you will likely be observed approaching on foot. Either way, Scraper will accompany you as far as possible. I admit to curiosity about your ultimate fates." 

It's clear that this is the most that this Kenku has ever said in one voice, and he gasps for breath after finishing, making a weird scraping sound as he finishes his message. Scraper looks at you carefully, tilting his head to one side as his big yellow eyes look you all up and down.

Tul nods to Scraper, "Thank you Scraper."

She then turns to the others.

"What do you think the chances are that the crew of the Pale Prow don't already know we're here?" she asks. "Is it worth splitting up such that some of us approach by land and attract the crews attention, while others sail around and slip quietly on board?"

To Tul, Gibson replies, "While I do love the idea of deception and general tomfoolery, I'm not entirely confident in our chances of running the same con as we did back in the cave. No offense to you all but I'm not particularly keen putting all my money on the stealthiness of Lady Dimma of the Chainmail, Bigfoot Shiro, Pukie-go-bumpinthenight, and Whatshisface over there. Give me a minute to puzzle this out..."

"Oh, uh, Scrapper? How long will it take us to reach the Prow and is this mist natural to the island or is it the fabled fog of the fearsome freebooters?"

Making a thoroughly believable "deep in thought" face while keeping a wary eye on the kenku, Gibson projects his voice into the minds of his companions.

"I don't trust this auditory record-keeper...creeps me out... We should get within sight of the ship and send them back. I don't fancy keeping a spy in our midst." He shifts his weight to lean on his walking stick. "Our conversation with Baron Fortune proved more informative than anticipated. My suspicions were all but confirmed! It's pretty obvious we're being played. Possibly by Gellan. Possibly by Anders/Skerrin. Probably by both. I get the feeling that the intended result of our job here isn't to gather information but to either cripple House Solmor on the seas (if the Prow is, indeed, under their command) or bring about our own demise (if Primewater turns out to be Sufocan's 'patron'). Either way, it seems unlikely that my original plan has any chance of success, given Fortune's reaction. The way I see it, there's two questions we need to answer: #1) Do we try to take on a legendary crew of ghost pirates on their own ship or do we head back and say the Prow had already left by the time we got here and move on?" Gib rolls his eyes and sighs. "And since I have a feeling I know just how stupid our answer to that will be, #2) Do we try to take them on their own ship or do we try to figure out a way to draw them onto land? Ugh... Let's talk more once this blasted bird is gone!"

Straightening up and tapping his walking stick on the ground, he says aloud, "I think better while I walk. Lead the way, Scrapper! The sooner we get eyes on this ship, the sooner we can figure out our best course of action and you can be back to your beloved Baron before the blinding blackness of night begins to block our blitz!"

Wist looks cross-eyed for a moment as he thinks vigorously back at Gibson.

When there's no response, he coughs, and then says aloud in a somewhat questioning voice "Scraper, friend, what are the coordinates the Barron gave you?  Captain Yahlgrin,  - our TRUSTWORTHY friend - will be able to tell us where the Prow lies, and we could make our way overland once we have a sense of direction and distance.  I'm not sure bushwhacking our way over there in broad daylight is the most... um discreet... course of action, and with this fog we won't get much scouting intel either.  Also, um, our ship has a full complement of sailors well trained in... stern negotiations... that could back us up if they are close by and at the ready.  There are just 5 of us, splitting up seems less than ideal.  Um, Scraper, once we have the coordinates you can happily go help the Baron with his rug..."

Hugh stumbles after the others, clutching his stomach. “Shouldn’t... have... eaten... the meat. Uurgghh.”

Scraper twists and turns his head between Wist and Gibson, very obviously confused. "Caw?" He says curiously.  He fishes through the pockets of his cloak, producing a scrap of paper, upon which is written nautical coordinates, including the latitude and longitude, handing it to Wist.

For those familiar with the sea -- the location is very close by. In the Zola's Favour, you could likely make it to the Baron's private docks within the hour. Even with your jolly boat, it would be a reasonably easy trip.

Scraper then bobs his head vigorously at Gibson, although exactly what it is in response to is in question. Then, in a startling fashion, Scraper says, in the tiefling's voice "Fabled fog of the fearsome freebooters." He even adopts Gibson's body language, looking a little ridiculous in the process. He adds, after a second, in the same voice "Scraper, lead the way." He gestures with a wing towards a path, that bizarrely, seems to lead even deeper into the woods, but is lined with torches that seem to shine even brighter than the fog.  "Shortcut here. Scraper find and build. Magic torches." He thumps his chest proudly. "Scraper help." The last two words seem to be said in Wist's voice.

Gibson scowls and leans over to Tul to whisper, "I don't look that ridiculous when I do that, do I?"

Not wanting to hear the answer, he straightens up and addresses the group. "So I guess we need to decide now whether we approach the ship by land or sea. Now, I don't mind telling you that I'm a fan of the steadfast trustworthiness of dry ground but I know most of you are sailor types and may have even had a prior run-in or two with privateers so I'll defer to your expertise in this particular matter. I can certainly see the tactical advantage to having an entire crew to possibly help us (assuming they aren't in on a Primewater-funded scheme to remove us from the equation) but maneuvering a whole ship through the fog whilst attempting to remain undetected seems quite a bit more challenging than slinking through the brush and swimming. But I'm anxious to hear all of your thoughts so that we can get going!"

Tul does her best to keep a straight face with Gibson asks if he looks as ridiculous as Scrapper does and just shakes her head.

"I think it unlikely that the captain will risk the Zola's Favor in any sort of confrontation with the Pale Prow," Tul says. "I got the impression that they were merely ferrying us here. I would not rely upon the captain and the crew."

She looks at the well lit pathway.

"The docks are likely to be as well lit as the path. I think taking the jolly boat might be the best bet. We can remain low to the surface of the water and approach through the dark. The Pale Prow will be well lit by the magic torches around the dock such that any watch on the ship will be partially blinded by the light."

Scraper's eyes widen and seem to well up a bit. "Are you not coming? Scraper help you lots. Scraper tough for a lil' Kenku." Beating his chest again, he strides forward, before realizing he has no idea where you all are going. "Scraper....will defer to your expertise. TRUSTWORTHY friend."