Simon waited for Sister Mercion and Sundos to ned their embrace. ~When did that happen?~ he thought.

"Sister Mercion, I want to apologise for my behaviour in the past few days...I was suspicious of your motives and I made no attempt to confirm my concerns before acting on them...that was wrong.

And, it is the Hag's Book of all things that provided the clear proof that I was wrong.

It's amazing how having your tongue burned out of your mouth makes you reconsider your actions."

Simon scowls at the halfling, "You've got to be joking!"

The warlock's face twists from a frown to a smile, to laughter.

"Pockets, I still do not appreciate you picking our pockets or planting items on us...but I know that it came from good place.

But..." he gestures with his head at Sheila, "I don't think we are ready to visit the Sulphur's Spit at the moment."

Lenelle's expression darkened when Tara brought the conversation to the book, recollecting what had been revealed.   Monstrous was one word...

"This Baron strikes me as having no great wisdom, nor an abundance of compassion, exactly." she said softly.   "I only hope he'll truly listen, and be open to advice from those who understand more than he does.  And not try to use any of it to his advantage, in some ill way."   

“Simon discerned the Baron’s nature—he’s indeed a useless fop.”

 Sheila chuckled bitterly, but with an appreciative smile for Simon. Sheila gently caressed his cheek with a tender smile. “Young man, you may have a sparse handful of apologies to make, but you question authority, and your keen wits kept you alive. I trust in the ability of you and your companions to impress upon the Baron that he will act in his own best interest by heeding you.”

Another bitter chuckle. “Perhaps you could sweet talk him into arranging an official pardon and apology for me? Seems like the good people Deadwater owes me one in light of what Tara discovered.”
This message was last edited by the player at 22:56, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Skye, silent as always in town, looked dead o  her feet. The dried blood of battle still on her body and armor, and the boar (she affectionately called 'Spit') at her side drew less attention than usual due to the reunions and the hag. The halfli g thought the boar would return to its own plane, being a magical summon, but as of yet it still remained

 ..she would talk to blackthorn about that in time.

She walked behind pockets, and when he insisted the good stuff, she clipped his head with a quick (and harmless) slap. "Be grateful your alive rogue, and with what you've got."

She knew the meeting was important, but she wanted it to be quick so she could eat and rest.

She looked at the two guards. "Pass on that no one is to hurt Spit.....anyone does and they deal with me." her tone wasn't harsh or a threat - just  observation that it was the truth. The boar had helped save hem.

...it deserves respect

"I should check with Laredon that the supplies we need for the ship are ready."  Cela says  "Maybe we can go on our way tomorrow, unless the Baron has other ideas."

"I will eat the Baron's food and drink his ale. I am famished!

Perhaps he will meet the expectations of his position once he hears our story.

Unlikely but we can hope."

Lenelle nodded, and voiced her own support at Skye's words.

"That boar is our champion!  And is to be treated as one.  If a gilded trough is possible, he deserves one."   

Cela's words struck her almost like a jolt.

Deadwater had begun as a bit of seeming ill luck; the caprice of the elements, and the ever untamed sea.

Not so long ago, she'd been chomping at the bit to re-board a repaired ship, and be gone from here.    But, now...leave? Tomorrow?

If Cela, and any of the others did, she would be sad to see her and them go. But she realized right then, her own plans didn't include any impending departure...

The party were invited by Mercion to wash and drink of the sacred Well before the dinner. Laredon ensured Skye that her Boar would enjoy a private sty of his own cleared away by one of the farmers. Sheila collaborated with Simon to brew a sedative powerful enough to knock out Connie. They left her chained and gagged in the only jail cell in town, under the watchful eyes of a dozen volunteer guards.

Soon, the group walked uphill to the Baron’s home. It was easily the largest home in Deadwater, and the most fortified. Guards stood watch outside the small gate. A guard with an enormous mustache greeted them. “You’re here at last. Baron Lederborn awaits you inside.” He led them up a cobblestone path toward the manor. Once they reached the door, a middle-aged man and woman let them inside. “Welcome. Dinner will be ready soon. You may join the Baron in his parlor.”

The Baron sipped from a goblet of pale wine. He wore a scarlet waistcoat over a white satin shirt with a ruffled collar and dark gray pants with black boots. Dark hair spilled in soft waves to his shoulders. Baron Lederborn’s face and manner showed impeccable breeding, but also the insouciance born of luxury. “I understand that you are the travelers who have caused quite the stir in Deadwater.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:15, Thu 06 Jan 2022.

Cela is not dressed for a meeting with nobility, still wearing the same clothes she's worn since leaving the ship.  At least they're somewhat clean at the moment.
 "It's more that we stopped the stir.  The town is no longer haunted by the dead every night, yes?"

The Baron reminded her a lot of home.  The place she used to know as home, rather.

Very minor nobility herself, she was acquainted with the type.   And had to suppress a roll of her eyes, once they were in his presence.   That was easy.   She had developed a real knack for artfully suppressing a lot, when in this kind of company.  For someone who so prized truth, she had, by necessity, become quite an adept liar.   Mostly by omission, which felt a little cleaner than outright fibs.

Still, there was no wisdom in pre-judging.  And so she would try not to here, though bearing in mind Simon's and Sheila's assessment.   Certainly it wasn't at variance with what she saw.

For the moment, Lenelle said nothing.

The Baron raised his goblet to Cela. “Indeed. I hear that you stood in the forefront of Deadwater’s defense that night. Well done.” If Lenelle hoped that her silence would deflect attention, she found that it instead had the opposite effect. Baron Lederborn glanced her way, then arched an appreciative eyebrow when he actually noticed her. “I invited you & yours tonight so that I could properly thank you,” he said to Cela, although his eyes were fixed on Lenelle.

He strode toward Lenelle. When he stopped, the Baron smiled pleasantly and with no shortage of curiosity. “What is your name, Milady? I am Adrian.”
This message was last edited by the player at 21:09, Thu 06 Jan 2022.

"Lenelle Toreth, sir."

It was the sole time she'd used her surname, since arriving here.

Her relationship to her family was all but meaningless, now.   They didn't like what she was, and she didn't like who they were.   Though, traced back far enough, there were several paladins in her line, who were known for their noble hearts as well as their deeds.

Toreth was an old name, and definitely an outland one here.  And it emphasized she was outside what he ruled.    As did:

"Sorceress; chosen to wield magics arcane and divine in defense of those who have the heart, but not the power."   

Also, the only time she'd introduced herself as a sorceress. Ever. Just lately, it felt like less of an ill fit than it once had.

Tara knew full well that her social rank was distantly far below that of the others, unless, perhaps, her training in magic somehow made up for her humble birth.  She wasn't sure that that mattered.  But so far, it appeared that she wasn't being expected to act in a particular way, so she stayed quiet... watching the Baron's conversation with Lenelle with amusement she sought to conceal.  Men never really changed, no matter the rank, did they?

Simons eyes rolled, involuntarily, as the Baron eyed up Lenelle. ~What an uncouth swine!~ Simon thought.

"It would have been easier to defend the town's wall if there were some trained guards there, instead of having to depend on simple villagers...but I suppose trained guards are hard to come by in this part of the world." Simon noted in a pleasant, neutral tone.

"I am famished, when is dinner?" Grog asked, ignoring the Baron's interest in Lenelle, and Simon's commentary.

Skye was pleased at the reception that the boar recieved - almost a reaction of a hero in the form of a tucked pig. When she left, Skye actually a smile on her face.

That smile quickly faded meeting the Baron. She all but bit her togune, wanting to call the man a fool, fop and waste of air. She instead stood by the side, leaning against the wall, unarmed other than a dagger, and still in her leather armor (though cleaner than when in the mud)

When simon spoke, the halfling suppressed a smile. "Not many garrisons out here Simon - Villagers often train to be guards." She looked at Grog and his simple statement and she nodded at his less than subtle wisdom.

She kicked herself off the wall and walked over beside Lenelle. "As for thanks - decent people protect those who need it. Hells, even Pockets stepped up and had a big part of it" She crinkled her nose as if the phrase tasted bitter in her mouth.

She continued towards the food. "...but a decent feed is a start - lord"

Mercion interjected with a cautious smile. “Adrian, May I respectfully remind you that you summoned these brave heroes after a harrowing few days ending the threat against the village that you were charged with governing.” Her tone and demeanor were civil, but also clear that she agreed with the Fighters.

“Grog and Skye are right. They and their friends must be famished after their journey, and none of us have any patience for coyness. May we continue this discussion over dinner?” In her gilded armor, Mercion looked more authoritative and not as meek.

When Mercion addressed him by his name, Baron Lederborn bristled for a moment. However, he caught himself and fixed the bland smile back in place, “Yes, yes, Sister. I’d forgotten how much adventurers can be driven by their…appetites. Very well.”

He clapped his hands, and a servant rushed to attend him. “Our guests are ready to eat. Tell Bettina and Robb to serve the first course.” Within minutes, everyone took their seats in a long dining hall. The Baron sat at an elevated table, joined by Mercion, Sundos, Laredon, Pockets, & Lenelle. The Baron sat first, then his guests followed. Everyone else sat at an elaborately decorated dining table two feet below. They could make eye contact and hold conversation, but the arraignment established an undeniable hierarchy.

Plates of freshly baked bread with whipped butter were served first. The Baron enjoyed the first bite, then motioning everyone else to eat. Lenelle and Mercion had apprised everyone of the etiquette before the dinner. The entire affair was like a dance, and everyone needed to know the steps. The courses that followed showed competence in flavor and presentation, tasting of spices local, and a few that could only have been imported from far off lands. They tasted pepper, salt, cloves, rosemary, cinnamon, ginger, and curry in select dishes that included soups, fresh and chilled fruits, pork pot pies, roasted vegetables, fish, pheasants, ham, and turkey. Wine and ale accompanied the meal.

Despite his snobbery, Baron Lederborn still sought to ensure that his guests were well fed and well-treated. When everyone had the first course, he dispensed with the small talk. “Enough idle chatter from me,” he said with a feigned laugh. “Your group marshaled a hearty defense of the walls against the ghouls. Not only did you defend Deadwater, but you defeated the Undead Warlock who led them. I was already impressed, but then you found the true power behind these nuisances—a Coven of Hags. You rent their Coven asunder, and captured a Hag who had infiltrated the village.”

Adrian swept the group with his eyes, regarding them as if truly seeing them for the first time. “I would not see your accomplishments go unrewarded. You all demonstrated the kind of skill and heroism that I have not seen since Sister Mercion and Pockets first graced our humble village. Nay, not even since the days that I lived in Waterdeep.” He raised a golden chalice. “First, I toast you all for your valiant aid!”

After the toast, the Baron’s lips drew up in a smile. “I would also like to offer you an opportunity to earn more gold.”

Skye was not one for formalty, but she knew the 'pomp was nessessary, so when Mercion schooled them in the 'dance', she listened (with some rolled eyes and disgusted looks).

when it came to the actual dinner, Skye knew her place and hid the eye rolls, but still had a serious look on her face bordering on irritation of the politics - she was one for nature and the wild, events for indoors were limited to taverns for her.

Despite this, she enjoyed the meal. the heartiness of the meats and soups, tied with the freshness of vegetables frits and cheeses, along with the spices helped her mood - as well as the ale.

When he issued the thanks of the group, she stayed quiet, sipping the ale. She'd let one of the others speak. She was, after all, not of the original group of the ship, and though they offered a place, she would let them decide

Grog had listened carefully to Mercion's instructions about etiquette, most of which he found ridiculous. Nonetheless, he waited patiently until the Baron gave the signal for everyone to begin eating.

The minotaur picked up the closest loaf of bread, tore it in half, handing one section to Azatch. He then slathered his piece in butter and began eating.

As the new plates were placed on the table, Grog tried everything, some were hideous, but some he had to admit were extremely tasty. Best of all, was the server who ensured his mug of ale was never empty for long.

When the Baron toasted the group, Grog clanked his mug against those sitting near him.

"More gold? But we don't have any gold yet!" he said to Azatch, puzzled at the Baron's use of words.

Simon stoically bit his tongue upon entering the dining room. While this sort of hierarchical seating was not new to him, he was seeing the world through different eyes.

~Is this much different from when my sisters would serve the men before sitting to eat in the kitchen?~

The meal itself was most excellent, even if the host was not. Many of the dishes reminded Simon of the spices his mother would so expertly mix, of course they weren't that good!

Simon's eyes narrowed at the Baron's offer. He did not trust the man, but perhaps their exploits had at least proven their competence...and luck.

"What sort of opportunity do you have in mind, Baron?"

It struck Tara that he was talking about future, possible rewards, rather than distributing them... well, a small thing.  She had more knowledge; that was what she treasured most of all.

"What exactly do you mean by that, your lordship?" she asked in a quiet voice.  "Are there more threats troubling you here?"

The obsequiousness for a prancing fool too fascinated with his own title bored Azatch. He’d considered grabbing up an armful of food and just walking out. However, he decided that it wasn’t worth breaking the bones of guards probably too underpaid to risk their lives for an ass like Lederborn. After he bit a chunk of turkey off a drumstick, Azatch asked, “Tell us about the reward for saving your town first.”

“Ah, yes,” the Baron chuckled mirthlessly. “Your payment. How would 450 gold pieces for your group sound? To be divided equally, of course.”

He couldn’t quite take his eyes off the spectacle of Grog and Azatch eating. Although he tried to maintain a polite facade (for him, anyway), his eyes riveted back to two mighty warriors chewing with their mouths open. Luckily, there were questions from Tara and Simon to help him refocus his attention.

“Yes. It has come to my attention that you encountered the hostile Lizardmen when you first arrived in my domain.” Baron Lederborn laced his fingers together and fixed Simon with a meaningful look. “The tribe of Lizardfolk have long been a source of my misery. They sabotage our efforts at making this wretched land livable and cultivating any trade.”

His eyes narrowed. “I would pay you an even more handsome sum if you…resolved this problem with the same efficiency that you demonstrated against the ghoul horde and the Hags. Gold or land. Perhaps even a station of importance here, if such is your wish.”

At the mention of the lizardfolk, Skye's demeanor again coldened, stopping eating to look at him. "Begging my pardon sir, but you want us to get rid of a species from tehir own home? These swamps have been theirs since before humans came, and because they defend their land you want them gone?"  she dropped the turkeyleg on her plate and looked at him.

"Don't get me wrong - i have no love for them, but what your asking is to destroy a species.....not only men, shamans, hunters and warriors bred for this land, but their families too. Women, children." She crossed her arms, frowning. "Monsters are monsters - even the hag's were bent on destruction on this place. The lizardfolk just want to live and survive. You take them on, and you'll be fighting them on their terms, by their rules. My advice - you want this place to survive, maybe see if a truce can be made - have an army of hunters protecting you instead of attacking you"