Argoni suggests exploring the ruins directly. As he gets closer, he sees Besmara's Fury teetering carefully. The hull is rotting, and the slightest imbalance could send it sinking into the sea. He ventures inside and looks around as much as he can. He's pretty positive there's nothing extraordinary inside. No journals, no loot, no horrible fiends.
Aerin's knowledge and instincts guide him to a conclusion. Besmara's Fury doesn't line up with Ghessa's story, but it's not enough for a solid conclusion.
As you finish your investigation, Captain Barubary emerges from the waters, holding a large swordfish in his jaws. "Hey hey! I got you dinner! I figured you wouldn't be eating what I'm eating, hehe! I'll escort ya back to town when you're ready."
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Endra nods at Jurri's whisper. That's what I was thinking... Her expression remains stern and contemplative.
She watches as Argoni heads into the ship and quickly exits with a rundown of it's minimal contents. The whole time she's ruminating over the expression Dead Doug and the Mayor shared back in town.
Maybe we should follow Tinol's map to where sailors were seen. That's another thing that could change if we wait too long.
"Alright, landlubbers. The cove is maybe an hour that way. Less brush to deal with, too." The Captain points. "I'm headin' back to town, gonna give this to The Dead Ringer. They're a tavern that doesn't serve food- bah! What's the point?" Whether you follow his advice or not, he soon splits and leaves the group alone.
Marcon's map is accurate and lines up with the Captain's directions. You arrive at a secluded cove. You find five straw mats around an extinguished campfire, but no bodies. Marcon said he found five bodies here, and it raised suspicion.
"Amee late to thee pardee?"
A halfling man, of average stature, peg-leg, hobbles up.
"Ben' caring fer the twerp since he was about yee tall" he motions to just about his shoulder height.
"Aye"
Dotty Smee, the dutiful hireling, inspects the campsite.
"They're gone!" he reports.
"Ayup"
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Endra watches the new halfling approach with slight confusion.
Wait, where did he come from? How did he know to find us here? And... how many more friends can you bring to help us?!
After her mild confusion passes she looks to the five mats in the sand and signs of the direction the bodies may have departed by.
There's no way the tide took them, or the mats would be gone too...
She re-enters her thoughtful investigator mode with increased focused, but for now no clues are entering her senses.
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Argoni examines the area around the mats, but he sighs. "I'm more of a city-boy. I'm not sure what to make of any of this. Kernal, maybe you can help?" He clutches his pendant for a moment to give him a bit of luck.
The dwarf is already staring at the area around the campfire. "There's drag marks here." He traces them with his eyes and then points off to the smaller cove. "They lead that way. And there's some marks form a small boat."
"Nossir"
Our hireling hero's tone reflexive, nonchalant, carefree.
Kernal Klank recognizes drag marks when he sees them. What kind of boat could be here?
Floating in the water near the furrows is a single body of a sailor that must have gotten caught under an outcropping when the tide came in, and whomever took the bodies away didn’t notice its absence. It’s dressed in the light trews and vest common of sailors and fishermen in tropical climates, but its mouth has been sliced open and tongue removed. The body is bloated.
What was the sailor's cause of death?
This is an unusual cause of death. Is there a religious significance?
Ghouls do feed off of living flesh, yet most of the body is here.
"Looks to be a dinghy, sir - the kind attached to a larger sailing vessel, sir"
"Can't say that'd be somethin' I be knowin', sir"
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Argoni examines the body once they have pulled it to shore. He takes out one of his scalpels and pokes at the body while inspecting it. "Yeah, this is the mark of the Whispering Way. Often their victims are silenced in a similar manner. But I think he died in his sleep by suffocation and the mutilation of the mouth happened after death. See, the air trapped in the lungs still smells." He pokes into the throat and a bit of horrible air escapes.
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The Kernal lifts his visor and pulls some bugs out of his beard, bending to one knee to have a look at the bodies. He leans back and away as the foul air escapes the corpse, instead focusing on the religious significance of the remains. "I can't say I know more than Argoni here. Much less actually." He stands back up and looks out to sea, curious if there's any other vessels on the horizon that could be watching.
With Argoni's help, Aerin realizes one of the Tyrant's minions is nearby. Most likely this creature is responsible for their deaths. Endra is a bit more cautious.
With your grisly research complete, it's time to return to Deadhaven. There is an impromptu battle of the bands going on between the Dancing Deadites and the Thrillerzombies. Sounds pretty groovy.
Contrasting to the rest of Deadhaven, Ghessa’s home is a simple gray and black wooden home with none of the celebratory decorations on or attached to it. The unlocked, heavy wooden door, borrowed from an old sailing vessel, opens to a small, tidy, two-room dwelling.
Inside the home is a small bed that seems like it’s never been slept in; a wardrobe full of elegant—yet conservative— clothing ranging from dark gray to black; and shelves and shelves of books. Atop the stack closest to the bed is a leather bound volume containing pages of journal entries with mixed up words and phrasing, with the latest entry being only a day old.
So... what's in the journal? It's written in a strange code.
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Our chivalric hero first examines the wardrobe "Drab, if functional" seems to be his professional opinion. Then "Ah! Yes..." he makes a discovery "I love it when they leave journals..." Smiling self-satisfiedly as he peruses the code.
He looks at "Dotty Smee. I am not sure I love you in the same way" declared without context.
"Huhwhat?"
Dotty Smee cocks his one good eye.
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"Tis neither here nor there" he decides not to share. Instead.
"Looks like our little snake has been busy watching the comings and goings of the... um... villagers" he stumbles momentarily "Seems inside this Vibrant Tomb that keeps these ghouls sated lies an Artifact of some sort belonging to a Dead God" he looks at Captain Barbary "This little sortie may have to come to an end, matey. If it turns out that you cannot defend yourselves from the Tyrant. I suggest you muster your Navy!" he continues "Ghessa has been meeting with someone or something named "K" and is eager for her reward - what might this "K" have that our little snake may want?" he answers his own question - almost "I can guess, but it remains to be seen..."
He omits the part about her sailor lover - given his exchange with Dotty Smee, considers it too awkward "The wages of greed? Cake?"
Turning now to face his Pathfinder friends, twirling gracefully pivoted onto his high-heel boots "So: Cake or Death?"
Ghessa seems to make a hobby out of tracking people's movements into and out of the Crypt of the Vibrant Dead. And she wants some kind of artifact?
With all of the clues extracted here, Endra suggests they go to the Dead Ringer, the busiest tavern in town.
The Dead Ringer is designed to resemble a typical Taldan tavern down to the coat of arms over the door. The two-story building is made of sun-worn wood, gray with age but repurposed for use as the tavern. The walls and roof are painted in bright aquas and deep blues with timbers of a golden yellow to add colorful accents. The second story is slightly offset, allowing for large valances that can be opened to allow light and summer breezes in on one side, and an overhang to provide the patrons cover in inclement weather.
Inside, the proprietor—>a ghoul wearing a fake mustache, a wig, a colorful coat and hat, and a cravat that matches Marcon’s vest<—introduces himself. With a polite bow, he says "Lord Walsam Calendrieu, at your service! Welcome to my tavern, the Dead Ringer. Don't worry, we have plenty of food for the Unliving Impaired!" He laughs. "I have a fried fish and potato dish that is to die for!"
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"Master Donatellus Jurrious Orwellious" our chivalric hero curtsies deeply to convey great respect - it is always good form to make positive acquaintances with barkeeps - and rising "And a pale ale, if you would be so kind, good sir" he turns to Dotty Smee "And for my manservant, one half-pint of wat..."
..."whiskey. To thee top" the clever hireling interrupts with timely aplomb, hopping up on a bar stool...
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....raising an eyebrow at his companion's minor shenanigan, Don Jurri only shallowly conceals his annoyance at the increase in incurred cost "We are looking for Ghessa and her first mate around these parts, due to an incident which has occurred that concerns her and him and the mayor" dishing his business in full "Would you happen to be privy to their whereabouts?"
"Very nosy, aren't we?" Lord Calendrieu subconsciously taps his nose as he nods to the wait staff.
"I am a Lord indeed. My history is from long ago. When Taldan explorers searched for Arcadia, our people found the Azlanti Isles instead. The Empress of Azlant saw fit to reward my brave father for his heroism rescuing her kingdom from the Tyrant of West Nidal. The Taldan crown honored the reward and we have been lords over the Azlant Isles ever since.” He puffs out his chest.
"I hear many things for the people on this island. And given my current state, I am used to people taking news the wrong way. Ghessa keeps to herself for the most part. She is reclusive, sitting in a corner booth, and writing in a book. Maybe she's an aspiring author. But she's a starving artist."
The food and finally arrive. "Feast of the Faithful. In fact, several times I’ve found her portion hidden in a towel under her seat. I’m worried she hasn’t fed at all and might be starving herself for some reason.” He shakes his head.
"But enough depressing news. I have a new line of drinks - Dead on Demand! They are a bit sweet, but I don't get many chances to test them out on customers with... refined tastes." He plops a couple of goblets on the table. "Any test takers?"
"Ah yes, a variety of spirits from across Golarion. I added some orange juice, a bit of cherry juice and a few mango slices. Most of the residents say they like it, but..." Lord Calendrieu hesitates. "Our taste buds don't work the way they used to!"
"For now, we feed during the Feast of the Faithful. Poor Ghessa, she's been starving herself. Some of the residents to this island regret their... disposition and waste away, refusing to accept who they are. So I leave her alone for the most part and make sure she's comfortable."