"Desolate and abandoned, the evil alchemist's mansion stands alone on the cliff, looking out towards the sea. Mysterious lights and ghostly hauntings have kept away the people of Saltmarsh, despite rumors of a fabulous forgotten treasure. What is it's sinister secret?"
"It's the springs I tell you. The wagon's supports are shot and other than the uneven ride, it could break at any time."
The dwarf rubs his backside as he hobbles off the wagon just into town. He's been around a short time, but he comes and goes quite a bit, so he's really not seen the place much.
He turns to the wagonmaster, "I'd get that fixed if I were you." he pats the mule comfortingly and heads into town looking for a spot for some food and drink to tamp down his temper.
At a half-hand under six feet, Venn doesn't stand out, and that's just fine with him. His bronzed skin denotes a strong Flan ancestry, and the leathery roughness to it pins him as an outdoorsman. He bears tattoo that gives him a racoon-like countenance, though it's mostly shadowed by his leather hood.
Across his back is strapped a great sword of war, not a normal weapon for a Runner of the Gnarley Forest, there's a story there for certain, but a stranger could sooner get blood from a stone.
"Ware and Were, Friend."
Wearing heavy chainmail comfortably, along with a shield over his shoulder he has a pack brimming with gear. He seems to favor the warhammer at his belt though there's a new-ish crossbow hooked there as well.
He's young, but only just, for a dwarf which puts him near 50 you'd gather. Over his left breast sits a well worn emblem of Clangeddin Silverbeard with raised crossed axes.
"Ware and Were, Friend."
Baghotir looks up at the man and tries to take his measure. "You talking to me friend? If so, join me for a drink for I'm parched from the road and my stomach is grumbling. Whatever business we have can be handled under such circumstances surely."
"Woodsman!" Belwick calls out to Venn, waving towards the ranger as he walks. "Who've you found then?"
A tall man with blonde hair and a strong jawline, Baron Belwick Donnamoor is a classically handsome man in his late thirties. And although he's not out of shape per se, his years as a pampered noble have made him soft.
"A traveler looking for a drink? ! If so, at least let me buy the first round!" Belwick smiles, eager to make a new acquaintance.
Did I hear someone is buying a round?
Alisanne steps from around the wagon tuning her lute.
Music and merriment echo through the streets of the normally sleepy town of Saltmarsh. Fishing has been good this day, and the town is making no secret of it. Today's catch has been a bounty. Praise Procan!
"Woodsman!" Belwick calls out to Venn, waving towards the ranger as he walks. "Who've you found then?"
A tall man with blonde hair and a strong jawline, Baron Belwick Donnamoor is a classically handsome man in his late thirties. And although he's not out of shape per se, his years as a pampered noble have made him soft.
"A traveler looking for a drink? ! If so, at least let me buy the first round!" Belwick smiles, eager to make a new acquaintance.
"I'm Baghotir with the masons, pleased to meet you. I thought he..." he looks to Venn and shrugs. When Alisanne joins in he smiles, "The more the merrier I suppose, but we're still not drinking."
He looks for a suggestion as to where the group should go drinking. "Any of you know the town?"
If no one has a suggestion, he'll follow the music figuring folks'll be drinking too in their merriment.
"Aye, I know a bit. we really have three options for drink. Well, to be honest, two. If end up at the "End of the Net," there will be bruising, and someone is going for an involuntary swim. Honestly, my choice here is "The Snapping Line." They've got a good selection, and some.... interesting stuff if you're adventurous."
"Join us, minstrel," Belwick waves over Alisanne. He's seen enough bards to know that they're good at keeping informed about the comings and goings of people. "The more, the merrier. We're off to 'The Snapping Line'!"
In the hobblin wagon groans a large man that looks a sickly shade of green. He sits up slowly as it stops, his thick chainmail clinking as he wobbles about on the shield strapped to his back like some sort of trapped turtle. "Ugh, is that ride over with yet?" He gulps and takes a slow, but steady sip of his canteen as he is eager to get off of that rickety death trap.
Taking a few minutes to regain his color he looks up at the cliff and sighs. he knows he probably deserves this. With an air of false confidence he looks to the others. [b]"Names Caelius. What are yours again?"[b/]
"It seems that wagon has brought all sorts in," the well-dressed noble says to the newcomer. "Well I've got good news for you, Caelius. You find yourself in the presence of Baron Belwick Donnamoor, a relatively recent arrival to Saltmarsh myself. But, perhaps more importantly, I've offered to buy those who would join me in merriment and discourse a drink at the 'Snapping Line'. So come along, and we'll see if there's not something to soothe a stomach."
CAelius looks around at the decrepit mansion and the thick salt-filled air all around him. "This is good news?" He stumbles out of the wagona nd regains his footing. He is a larger man and seems well armed as a longsword lies strapped to his hip. "Guess I have time for a drink. I have a couple of weeks before I need to check in yet."
The town is in high spirits as the sun starts to descend and the day's catch is weighed and sorted. You will find any of the taverns or businesses hospitable right now. Where to, Adventurers?
The Dungeon Master has updated the Adventurers' Journal in Roll20.
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Drinks arrive at the table, with Belwick waiting for them to be handed out before resuming conversation. "So, do any of you know about that manse just up the coast? Because I've heard tales that it's haunted. My opinion? Stories meant to keep children away. But," the nobleman pauses for affect, knowing that everyone is paying attention. As befits his rank, of course. "There's always a grain of truth to these sorts of tales. And one grain is that there's great treasure hidden within its walls. Relics, rarities, that sort of thing. The type an old alchemist may have collected over a lifespan."
Belwick takes a sip of his drink, briefly making a face. The expression is a feigned one, as he's gotten used to drinking lesser quality ale. But, appearances must be kept. "Regardless, I'd like to see what riches there is."
The party follows the laughter and music, making their way to The Snapping Line. The Inn and Tavern is all repurposed ships and ship parts. The smell of fish seems baked into the walls and if the omnipresent smell bothers any of the local fishers, they don't show it. A kind and friendly woman named Hannah seems to run the place. Her family, Rist, are well known lobster fishers. The bisque is popular, as is the CLAW WINE, a spirit unique to this tavern--it doesn't exist anywhere else on Oerth. Blended from potatoes and lobster. Think of it as a lobster flavored vodka. The atmosphere is lively, celebratory. Expect spontaneous sea shanties at any moment.
https://www.dndbeyond.com/sources/phb/equipment#FoodDrinkandLodging
Baghotir takes his first drink and downs it, savoring it little, merely sending it to a rumbling belly, in dire need of sustenance. Which is why he would have ordered two. The second he sniffs, sips and savours. He leans back and takes measure of his new companions.
Baghotir orders their house ale, if they have one, for he's very interested in what the locals do with their hops. He's not a particularly hoppy man himself. It certainly has its place in the mix, and sometimes he likes the somewhat flavorful grain. He likes variety.
He turns to his companions once he has his drink well in hand, "So my fine new friends, how'd you come to be here? I'm working the mines, so to speak. There are a few spots where they require masonry supports, rather than the more typical wood ones humans tend to use, and that's something my guild does well."
"That said, I'm looking for a bit more than journeyman work, something more, you know? That haunted mansion might be some fun."
He laughs, "I'm sure there are things out there to frighten me, but I haven't met them yet. Maybe this house? I dunno. Any of you know anything more about it?" He turns back to the Baron, "You know where it is by chance? Seems to me there may be a bunch of rich-folk houses along the coast. They tend to like the water." he shudders.
"I don't even like drinking water. You know why? Fish screw in it. That's why. I'd rather clean that up before I go drinking it, ideally through fermentation." he takes another sip of his beer and looks to the others.
Not sure what to make of it, Belwick ignores the comments about water. "I've no doubt a local could give us directions to the manor, so that won't be an obstacle. And I plan to acquire a mule and saddlebags to bring back any riches. But if you are inclined to support me with a bit of muscle, I'll make sure you get a cut of the treasure."
Coming back to an earlier topic, the baron says, "And did you say masonry work in the mines? Are they in a bad way? Lots of maintenance work to do?"
Caelius nurses his drink for several long moments until the illness subsides. "I was reassigned here. To be a town guard in a few weeks time." He raises his glass and quickly drops it onto the table before holding up his hands flabbergasted. "Whoa, whoa...whoa. You say Haunted Mansion and your first thought is, hey let's go take a look?" His eyes are wide as he leans in close. "What if it is f#%~ing haunted? Worst case scenario..." He points to the Baron. "..you get possessed." then to Alisanne..."She turns into a ghost..," then to Baghotir. "..and finally he goes so mad that he pulls his beard right out."
Caelius downs his entire drink. "That's it, enough said. I am coming with. You are going to need some protection. That and to make sure you aren't pilfering some old man's house."
"Pilfering?" the baron is taken aback by this. [b]"By all accounts the original owner is long dead now. I doubt he'll mind. Besides, it there's even a shred of truth to the rumours, which I doui, then I expect I and whoever comes with us by having no trouble dealing with the dead.
Not sure what to make of it, Belwick ignores the comments about water. "I've no doubt a local could give us directions to the manor, so that won't be an obstacle. And I plan to acquire a mule and saddlebags to bring back any riches. But if you are inclined to support me with a bit of muscle, I'll make sure you get a cut of the treasure."
Coming back to an earlier topic, the baron says, "And did you say masonry work in the mines? Are they in a bad way? Lots of maintenance work to do?"
"A mule?! My but you're a confident one and that's a fact. If I'm going, I'm in for a full share for the many services I can render. And I will go in on the mule, for the luck of the thing." Baghotir chuckles a bit at the confidence of the Baron - but fair's fair.
"Oh, I don't think the mines are in a bad way," He thinks a moment before continuing, "...but there's always work to be done. Like I said, we're shoring up just a few areas that require a solution in stone rather than wood."
"It really is a complex task, though our guild will handled it don't you worry about that. The lintels need to support more than just the immediate stone, or dirt, above it. You've got to support the weight of the nearby dirt and stone as well. Otherwise, you'll just be leaking around the sides, and who wants that really!"
He goes on to talk about the engineering processes involved, and even touches on the chemistry used with soil and rock samples, if given a chance.
Eventually, he comes up for air.
"...That and to make sure you aren't pilfering some old man's house."
"Oh, yeah. Is there a permit or something we need to get, you know, for permission? A charter from the city or whatever? Found property rights?"
"Pilfering?" the baron is taken aback by this. "By all accounts the original owner is long dead now. I doubt he'll mind. Besides, it there's even a shred of truth to the rumours, which I doui, then I expect I and whoever comes with us by having no trouble dealing with the dead."
"Next of kin?"
No, the mines are not in a bad way. They are a new thing, however. A band of dwarves recently arrived in Saltmarsh with a decree from His Majesty King Skotti himself. They were granted the lands and mining rights. It is well known that this is the forward vanguard of King Skotti's ambitions for Keoland. Military expansion isn't feasible anymore, so King Skotti is looking to make Keoland a trading power and this is the first step (as he sees it) towards a brighter future for the kingdom.
Information about the manor down the coast may be available from the locals. Characters from Saltmarsh or who have been in the area longer may be able to tell you more--we seem to be establishing that Caelius, Baghotir and Belwick are recent arrivals. Venn and Alisanne may attempt skill checks to fill in some background.
The baron is left thinking about the questions now. Up until recently he assumed the spoils were fair game. "I suppose I could seek an audience with the appropriate local officials, to ensure we can lay claim without recourse. But that is not a quick process. Nevertheless, if it suits you all better then I will see to it."
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I award Inspiration to Caelius and Baghotir for role-playing. Keep it up.
"No need, I will go speak with Captain of the Guard, Eliander Fireborn. I have been meaning to check in quick anyways. I will get this all sorted."
Caelius sets his drink down and heads out at once to find the Captaina nd explain the situation. He will explain that he will escort the group to the Manor to make sure that noone gets hurt.
Baghotir is torn. He surely could use another drink. But did he really trust this young man to sort it properly with the Captain of the Guard?
Hrm...
He sips the ale and ponders - but does not move. This is definitely a two, or even three, pint problem and he hasn't yet finished his second.
Belwick shrugs, fine with the idea of someone else tending to the bureaucracy.
He then looks over a Venn and Alisanne. "Woodsman and minstrel, I would like to hear your thoughts. Don't let my position keep you quiet. In this endeavour I would have you as allies and equals."
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Venn, taciturn but attentive, answers the Baron's request, "I agree Belwick, amongst mortal we are all always equals." while the comment lacks any acerbity, it's somewhat obvious that Venn ignored the title "baron."
"I've had run in with pirates here, and the gentle wind of rumor surrounding the house is known to me. I don't see why we need to bother the local authorities about it. If it was a priority to them, they'd have a bounty.... or have plundered its mysteries already. If it makes you feel better, I won't stop you."
He takes a sip of the claw brew, "Come first light, I say we go and see what there is."
Well, isn't this shaping up to be the start of an exciting tale. You can count me in, particularly if it means some coin and a story I can turn into more coin later.
Alissane tips back her mug and downs half of it before putting it down.
I don't know much about the place myself, but in a town like this, everyone thinks they're an expert on the local legends. I'll do a round and see what I can pick up.
Alissane quickly polishes off her mug, then strolls into the crowd.
Persuasion:
Here you would choose which of the rolls to take. I am going to assume you pick the 23.
Alisanne is not as well known in this tavern, but her obvious charm and ability to drink like a sailor, and sing like a sailor, among sailors and fishers serves her well. The party sees a performer and smooth operator in Alisanne.
Alisanne learns the following:
-For two decades, the haunted house near Saltmarsh has sat, its ill reputation festering. In recent times, there have been reports of fearsome hauntings, horrible shrieks, and eerie lights emanating from the dismal place. Now, not even the bravest of the area’s denizens dare to approach the house, let alone enter it.
-For years, the tales of the haunted house near Saltmarsh have circulated through the region. Though most of the stories are rightfully taken as warnings to avoid the place, rumors persist of a great treasure hidden in its walls. What relics and other valuables did that old alchemist keep in the creaking floorboards and cracked plaster walls of his home?
-The alchemist lived a hermit’s life, with few visitors and fewer friends. But a young messenger once emerged from the house with a story of a grand library containing countless tomes. Retellings of the messenger’s tale have varied over the years, with the most popular versions suggesting that the alchemist had discovered a method of transforming base metals into gold.
Well, isn't this shaping up to be the start of an exciting tale. You can count me in, particularly if it means some coin and a story I can turn into more coin later.
Alissane tips back her mug and downs half of it before putting it down.
[dice=History]1d20+1
I don't know much about the place myself, but in a town like this, everyone thinks they're an expert on the local legends. I'll do a round and see what I can pick up.
Alissane quickly polishes off her mug, then strolls into the crowd.
[dice=Persuasion]1d20+6
Then that calls for a constitution check to remain sober. DC12 please.
As for Caelius...
Caelius, you make your way to the Barracks. It is the same building as the town jail.
2. Barracks and Jail
Built on a low hill, the Saltmarsh barracks are also its jail. It is one of the few structures in Saltmarsh with an underground level. The jailer, Kraddok Stonehorn, is an old comrade of Eliander.
Kraddok is an enormous man. Older and shorter, but remarkably fit. You wouldn't want to take him on unless you had to. He carries himself like a soldier of Keoland. You recognize the bearing of a veteran with the same training as yourself. He is polite but direct and thorough. Who are you? Why are you here? What brings you to Saltmarsh? What business do you have with Captain Fireborn? You imagine his paperwork must be pristine.
After dealing with the polite but fastidious interrogation, he is satisfied with your answers and does recognize in you a comrade--another veteran. He tells you that Captain Fireborn sticks close to his home most nights, after such a fine day's catch, he'll go to THE WICKER GOAT and celebrate.
3. The Wicker Goat
Bearing the dubious honor of being the oldest tavern in town, the Wicker Goat is owned by Lankus Kurrid, a retired officer of the Keoish army who caters to the dwarven miners and town guard. The two-story building has sleeping quarters for rent on the upper floor, usually sufficient to accommodate the slow stream of travelers making their way through Saltmarsh on the way to somewhere else.
At the sign of The Wicker Goat--literally a goat woven of wicker outside the place--you find another tavern filled with celebrating people of Satlmarsh. But the people inside are all either town guard or dwarves. It seems that when the catch is good, everyone celebrates. You recognize a few faces from your soldier days, and have no trouble fitting in. It is easy to find Captain Fireborn.
Captain Eliander Fireborn is another amazingly fit man--you think he could snap you in half. He's human. He's tall with dark, well kept hair and a neat, short beard streaked with some early grey. Despite the celebration around him, he sits in a corner nursing a pint, and reading of all things! He has a old and expensive looking book open. Occasionally he will overhear a joke or a friendly conversation and he can't help but smile. He might be a wall-flower, but he's one that is happy to be here among his people.
Securing an introduction is easy and he finishes reading a paragraph, carefully places a ribbon between the pages and closes the book. He looks to you and silently takes your measure. He recognizes a soldier when he sees one and greets you warmly.
Well, met, New Friend.
You have a nice conversation. You learn that the locals avoid the mansion--everyone believes the stories of ghosts and goblins and strange lights and sounds are visible on many a night. There are no claims to the house, and no kin survives the strange alchemist who once lived there. He cautions you--he doesn't think it's worth the risk to go exploring. Adventurers sometimes arrive looking to strike it rich or forge a legend and they never come back.
You get the impression that he is a man who is cautious but not fearful.
Then that calls for a constitution check to remain sober. DC12 please.
Then that calls for a constitution check to remain sober. DC12 please.
Still 3 rounds or so by my reckoning. Enough to possibly inhibit capabilities.
Alisanne remains the proverbial Belle of The Ball, and keeps her full wits about her. These sailors are lightweights.
Belwick sips his claw wine while we watches Alisanne work the crowd. "Well now, that's some talent. She moves like she's the best friend to every person in the room."
He looks to Venn and Baghotir, raising his cup. "My friends, I can't help but feel like this will be a fruitful endeavor. Cheers!"
Venn gives a genuine clank of the tankard, tabs it to the table, and then washes it back. "Going to catch some fresh air. I'll be back in a hundred-breath."
Venn takes a circuitous route to the front door. He looks about to get a feel for tonight's clientele. His eyes are drawn to scabbards and the faint aroma of bat guano. Once at the front door he steps out, takes a deep breath, then heads back in.
"If we're doing this in the morning, let us not make a late night of it. We should plan ahead."
Venn doesn't order another round, but he does scoot his chair closer to the table. "I'm good with my sword. I can use a bow, but it's not really my style. My eyes are sharp, but a haunted house may have things beyond my mortal ken. Have any of you ever dealt with something actually haunted before?"
"Alisanne's rumors also have me a bit worried. Alchemists and libraries say 'hidden defenses' to me. Can any of you spot a well hidden trap or read tongues long forgotten?"
Alissane returns to the table after her rounds and relates the tales she's picked up.
Can't say I've dealt with an actual haunting myself. Most of my dealings have been with the dregs of this craphole, mostly drunks and idiots who think they're tougher than they are because they tuck a big sock in their pants.
I'm fair with a blade, but can talk my way out of most of my troubles. I know a spell or two and I'll do what I can to keep everyone in the fight. I'm also decent on the viol.
"You can leave the reading of ancient tongues to me," Belwick says confidently. "It just so happens that I was tutored in the ways of magic by the wizard Oriel Blackmane, who was an apprentice to Eli Tomorast. Or at least that's what they claimed," he waves a hand dismissively. "I don't know that it's true, but the spells I learned work just fine."
"Those names mean absolutely nothing to me. You know that right? At least we've got languages figured out. Still, none of you have piped in about traps and ghosts."
Traps, I might be able to help us with. It's not my expertise. I was more the "distract the guards" person, but I know my way around a lock pick if no one else does.
Baghotir looses himself in his beer for a moment before coming around again to the conversation.
"Oh, ghosts? I dunno. I have some access to spells, but mostly I like hitting things with my hammer, you know? It's very satisfying, especially if your opponent is tough. That reverberation as that hammer hits a solid object. Goes right up your arm it does."
"Clangeddin will see us through if there's skullduggery. We'll just have to be careful and hope their basement is stone. That I can help you with."
He smiles, "And I appreciate we're doing this on the level with the nod of the establishment, or at least that they were informed. Thanks."
The dwarf likely drinks later than the others, but he does not drink to excess, turning in far earlier than a good dwarf should. Still, he wanted to say his prayers extra fervently in the morning so he'd be ready for whatever lies ahead. I'm representing the guild in this, as with all things I do. I must stand firm.
He tucks his beard into a hairnet as he gets ready to sleep, I hope I don't run away at the first sign of a ghost!
His sleep is restless, but he is somewhat refreshed by morning. After his prayers, he spends some time with his gear, looking for signs of wear or actual damage. He'll cast Mending as needed to make minor repairs and so to keep his gear at its peak.
Then he gets out and looks for the others so they can be off!
"Thanks for your time Captain."[b/] Caelius offers a small salute. [b]"I just wanted to check in as I arrived into town. I will see you in a few weeks time on my start date after I make sure these travelers come out of that Manor unharmed."
Securing the approval Caelius begins to head back and share the information with the rest of those in the Inn.