With the danger nullified, Bendaxalion is lifted out of the grasping undergrowth and brought back to this side of Pharasma's Boneyard by some soothing musics.
The elves investigate the corpse of the crazed kobold, and discover that she had a small bag filled with eight tiny amethysts as well as a twisted, wooden wand carved out of a mangrove root. Elysia determines that it glows with a faint, blueish conjuration aura.
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Once everyone has gotten together, Khale takes a few minutes to see to the corpse of the kobold, leaving the crocodile where it fell. He shakes his head as he works, finally saying, "It is a shame that the love she had was so perverted it caused her death."
After finishing, he walks over to the plants she called her babies and looks around. "Does anyone know what these are? Are they special in any way?"
As far as you can tell, there's nothing special about the thistles. They're a pretty common breed you can find just about anywhere, although possibly less so out here in the middle of the swamp.
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Bendaxalon suddenly sits up with a yell, and puts a hand to his head. "Ow, don't make so much noise." Once he complies, the headache gradually recedes. "I had the strangest nightmare that gnomes weren't good to eat -- wait. That doesn't sound right." He tries to sort things out, and answers Arithas, "Or maybe they like me too much; I shall have to think of how to look less edible."
He gets up rather woozily , but is still attracted to examine the kobold's unusual wand with his detect magic cantrip. "Aha! A wand of cure light wounds." He considers. "Which I can't use at all, so never mind." Still feeling a bit under the weather, he totters off to check the log house for tea and biscuits. (A sequence of reasoning that makes perfect sense in his gnomish head.)
An alchemist can utilize spell-trigger items if the spell appears on his formulae list, but not spell-completion items (unless he uses Use Magic Device to do so).
Inside the hollow log is a very simple (and somewhat damp) house; part of it is partially submerged and seems to act as an underwater entrance for the crocodile. A pile of old leaves serves as a bed in the driest corner of the room, and a long wooden shelf lines the eastern wall. The shelves are filled with all sorts of potted mushrooms, the only decorations in this otherwise barren abode.
Searching around, you find nothing of any particular use inside the log house.
After sweeping the kobold's log house for anything of use, Rees clears his throat and reminds the group of the task at hand, and so you quickly make use of the wand and once again set off on your journey. Your enthusiasm to press onwards is doubled when Trig realises just how close to the end you are, and you make great progress as you leave the marshland behind.
Approximately five hours of travel across sodden lowlands later, with the sun well on its way to sleep, you catch sight of civilisation upon the horizon. The sleepy fishing village, with its promise of soft beds and warm interiors, is quite possibly the most welcome thing you have spotted in many days now.
A rickety sign made of a piece of broken-off ship's hull welcomes you to the humble village of Pier's End. The town is sparsely populated, largely built around a small (and, considering the time of day, largely empty) outdoor market place that retains a rather strong fishy scent about it. The marketplace opens up directly onto the harbour, where a number of long wooden piers house a number of fishing trawlers and other seaworthy vessels, as well as sailors and fishermen coming in from a long day at sea. Speaking to anyone of an inn quickly points you to The Narwhal's Horn, a rather rowdy tavern currently filled with seamen and seawomen who are mostly well on their way to thorough inebriation to celebrate the end of the day.
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Trig looks at the town and thoughts of a bath and nice bed fill his thoughts. He also considers their next move, gaining passage to Escadar. And remembers his empty purse. I hope someone has extra coin, or that the locals will pay for a song.
"So, what's the first priority? Try to find a boat to Escadar tonight, or a place to stay?"
The party heads inside the Narwhal's Horn looking for a place to rest. There's an immediate dulling of the ruckus inside as heads turn to get a look at these new arrivals to town; you really do stand out amidst the lower class fishermen and sailors that make up the majority of the residents here. The tavern owner, a grey-haired old man currently in the middle of serving big bowls of stew to a nearby table, looks up and gives you a toothy grin.
"Ah, welcome, welcome! We don't often get travellers 'round these parts! What can I do you for?"
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The strange little man pipes up, "Well, you can't put a price on this" -- he slaps his butt -- "but I wouldn't mind a drink, some words, some stew, and a room! In that order." He flashes a gold piece, to make his intended form of payment clear to the literal-minded folk in the room. (There is a story behind his concern in that regard, but he would have to be very drunk to tell it.)
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Trig takes the proprietor aside to ask about singing in the bar. Gaining permission, he sits himself in a corner and begins strumming his drumhead gently. After he's gotten the attention of the nearer patrons he begins a slow song about a fisherman's wife watching the grey, grey sea for her husband's return.
Perform ...
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Used to little more than rice and fish donated by pious peasants, Li is reluctant to part with his meager wealth to acquire a meal. But seeing that his companions are doing it, he orders a small meal (of rice and fish) and a very cheap, weak beer.
The lanky Tian stands out no more than any of his highly unusual companions, and seats himself on the rough hewn wooden bench to share their company and listen to Trig sing his song. He can identify with the loneliness implicit in it, though he knows little of the lives of fishwives.
Like Arithas, Li scans the crowd for unfriendly faces, but he has his own reasons for doing so.
After the initial burst of curiosity from the locals, there appears to be nobody particularly dangerous, and the mood perks right back up again--doubly so, in fact, with a friendly bard willing to peddle his tales and songs for a warm bed hanging around. For the most part, the locals don't bother you, although a few do eventually come up and introduce themselves and get the goss from Absalom and beyond. After all, they explain, it's not often they get visitors - and certainly fewer still that come across the mountains!
"Honestly, only ones crazy enough to do that are up to some nasty stuff, heheh."
"Oh, I don't care if you are. Ain't none of my beeswax so long's as you're not doin' nothing bad to me."
For the most part, the rather poor and isolated townsfolk seem happy for company and a bit of nice, fresh gold flow into their village. There's plenty of advertisements of the great foods on offer in the day time, as well as the myriad wares and trinkets sold in the Pier's End marketplace. The food on offer is mostly limited to seafood dishes, although they've got quite a variety at that: a hearty fish stew, grilled salmon fillets, fresh oysters still in the shell, and barbecued prawn cutlets covered in rich spices.
If you ask any of the locals about getting a ship across to Escadar, they're able to easily point you in the right direction. There's in fact three local captains that might consider the job if you ask them nicely (and have the money for it, of course!): Darice Sumore, a surly young woman who's probably spent more of her years at sea than on land; Small Otti, a halfling who's fat and proud of it; and Crazy Old Tanner, an old mad man who lost his mind in the ocean and never quite found it again.
The tavern keep works Trig hard, getting him to perform in some way or another until most of the guests are ready to stumble off home again. He then recruits the bard to help with the clean up duty; this, at least, is a shared job between Trig and the old man's two grandkids (although one would hesitate to call either of them 'kids', with the elder granddaughter already well past her 18th birthday and the younger grandson not too far off it). Luckily, they sneak him a fair amount of leftover fish stew to fill his grumbling stomach.
After a reasonably comfy sleep without too many interruptions from cockroaches or mice, morning dawns, bringing with it an unfortunate wind that sends a rank fish gut smell throughout the town. The locals, long since used to it, are all unaffected...
Trig elicits nothing of any particular interest from the tavernkeep's grandchildren short of a physical description and some directions to where they can usually be found.
Some snippets of the conversations Arithas picks up on over the next hours...
About Cap'n Sumore:
"Ach, Darice? She could be a pretty one if she just stopped bein' ANGRY all the time! Bitter about her father, that one is. He left her an' her mother to join the feckin' Pathfinder Society is what I heard."
"You know, I once saw her off in a corner of the ship just looking at this strange compass of hers. Looked like she was about to cry. Figure it's the only thing she's got left of that no-good father of hers, the poor thing."
About Cap'n Otti:
"Small Otti's a greedy sonuva, but I ain't gonna blame him. He's got a dozen mouths to feed, not to mention his own! I reckon he could out-eat a starving shark, even though he's the size of a wee little kid."
About Cap'n Tanner:
"Tanner? Ugh. I served under him once. God, he's a great sailor; I've never seen anyone with skills like his. But he's mad as a hatter. We rode right into a squall one night, and I've got no idea how he managed to get us out of it..."
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While Arithas talks to sailors, Bendaxalon entertains children with his prestidigitation: covering himself with purple polka dots, making fake butterflies out of thin air, that kind of thing. Their enjoyment entertains him in turn, and he's found that they often know more than people give them credit for.
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Arithas looks uneasy. "I am disinclined to sail under anyone with the name 'crazy'. The question we must ask ourselves is, would we rather sail with someone who may or may not like us overmuch, or with someone who could very well get us killed on account of his insanity. Sure, he may be a fine sailor who can get through natural disasters, but who is to say that he doesn't look for them and sail into them on purpose?"
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The next day Trig works the docks, drumming and singing and keeping an eye on Arithas' back. Fortunately the elf avoids trouble.
When he joins the others, he knows he doesn't have the cash for another night in town.
"I think Captain Sumore's odd compass might be a Wayfinder. I think it's possible she would be sympathetic to us. If we don't want to risk it then we could try Arithas' idea and not tell her we're Pathfinders. The journey is short. We could get away with the ruse. Whatever we do, we should try the captains soon. We shouldn't delay the mission for another day. "
Following the directions Trig received the night before, you head to Crazy Old Tanner's shack down by the piers to try and convince him to give you a ride over to Escadar. You hear the old sailor before you see him, shouting angrily at a bold seagull that apparently dared to come in and steal a scrap of beef jerky out of his tin of the stuff. (By the time you arrive, however, the seagull is long gone, and Tanner is merely yelling at the empty air.)
The old man cuts off mid shout as he spots the group arrive, straightening up and looking quizzically at the unknown faces. He's a dishevelled, fish-smelling, and wild-eyed man with a weather-beaten and wrinkled face and twinkling blue eyes. He holds a well-loved pipe in his mouth and frequently blows thick, aromatic gouts of grey smoke out of it.
"WHAT? Speak up, sonny! Ye want ta go ta Escadar?" The old sailor folds his arms, humming and harring as he considers your request. "Aye, me pretty lit'l lass ken get ye over there in a jiffy, but it'll cost yeh. Me goin' rate's 35 gold doubloons!"
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Trig does the math. In this town, a singer can't even make enough to live on. I don't think my friends are flush with coin either. There's no way we can pay him. For the third of fourth time on this trip he wishes that he had asked VC Dreng for an advance on expenses.
But considering the town and the lack of travelers that apparently pass through, the captain might be trying to overcharge them. Or he might be a congenital haggler. Trig understood haggling. It was part of the Varisian way of life. The key thing was to figure out if the captain was haggling or not. If he wasn't, any attempt to bring the price down might sorely insult the man.
"Captain Tanner, 35 gold doubloons is a high price for humble travelers like us...."
Sense Motive
"Ain't never seen no humble trav'lers afore," Tanner responds dryly, using his pinkie finger to scratch the inside of his ear.
Trig doesn't get the impression that this crazy old coot would get particularly offended by a haggle attempt. Besides--if he does, there's always two other captains to try your luck with.
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Trig looks at Arithas aghast. Where would we get two gold apiece. The bard fears monetary embarassment. He considers the possibility that he'll be left standing on the quay as his friends sail off to Escadar. Never the less he throws the weight of his own arguments behind Arithas'.
"Besides, Captain, do you have a fare or a cargo in the next few days? If you don't take us on, your boat will sit idle, weathering her rigging, drying the caulk in her upper planking, while your water-fed skills wilt on the dry strand. A short easy journey like this would be trivial for a skilled navigator like you; it would be a strop on which you honed yout skill razor sharp. Your ship would breathe the ocean. Spray and gentle waves would moisten her topsides and deck, leaving her seams tight. Such a trip would be a positive benefit to you and her."
Diplomacy
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