Curses with Dead Tongue Spoken
11th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)
The ship's crew are, to your mind, strangely ill at ease in dealing with the dead pirates, so much that you begin to wonder if there is something they know which you do not. A breed of
Russet Mold that loves the light rather than shunning it, drinking the salt tinted air maybe? But no, Mina assures there's no magic to the bodies, just superstitions, the hollow shells of rituals half-understood carried on the trade winds across the world. Hard to say if that is more comforting or less so, but what is sure is that the body of Du Moire, slashed and bloody, shards of bone skewering through both his wrists and ankles, makes for a gruesome piece in the depths of the hold. One no one wants to meddle with it... no one that is, except your patron. He'd had it covered in salt, to cut down on the smell, then spent a full day meticulously cataloguing and storing the pirate's possessions before even sending word to you.
"You could have just salted the head," you point out, for lack of another greeting.
The merchant looks at you confused before his expression clears. "Salt is plentiful on the ocean, at least for those with the wit to build a solar still."
Oh, so that is what that clay and bronze contraption on deck is. You make a mental note to tell Cob, assuming he hasn't managed to wheedle that out of the mercenaries putting it together. Perhaps they are a bit more than mercenaries.
"I can save you the cost, the smell, and the knife-eyes from the crew," you say, taking out the scroll House Naran had acquired for tomb raiding.
He takes one look at the scroll, another more thoughtful look at you, then takes a long step back. "By all means, ask him under who's flag he traveled, how his ship came to be damaged, and why he thought attacking a Consortium whip would be wise."
So you do, the body twitching in unnatural ways, head slumping down into the gory ruin of his chest as the dead speaks once more with swollen half-rotted tongue: "I sail under no flag but
MINE! Cravens wouldn't give me a ship, dared to hunt me! Hunt
ME! They came from behind as I was taking them from the village! Chelish ships turning their weapons on us to protect a
NEST OF SLAVES."
Lost Scroll of Speak with Dead
"Ask him if the village was Andoran," Gavhaul interrupts, pinching his nose in annoyance. "I can guess the likely answer to why he came after us."
You decide to take a bit of a chance: "It was, I think. I... saw something in my writings that makes sense in the context of a fight between Andoran and Cheliax."
Well then, he smiles, sincerely as far as you can tell: "The last question is yours, seeing as you provided the answer to what I wished to know."
"How did the Chelish squadron..." you hesitate on the word, not sure if that is the proper name until a nod from Gavhaul confirms it, "know you for a pirate?"
"Fish Fuckers, saw them in the water, killed three, but there were more!
FUCKERS! We should've slaughtered them together."
The last piece falls in place, remembering how charming Du Moire was on first meeting, who skillfully put even you at ease. If he could turn that skill to persuading the Chelish squadron into
joining in his raid instead of trying to stop him, oh aye, it's not hard to tell how that would become a war. All that stopped just because of a message...
Would the azarketi have even spoken to Chelish ships if they did not know events were teetering on the edge of war? What if Cozut himself had stopped the wedding, no prophecy spoken? The idea of being yourself part of the web of fate being read is dazzlingly unpleasant to wrap your head around.
"What do you guess, magister?" you ask instead of descending any further inside your own head. "What was the reason they went after us?"
"Likely as not to get a ship the Chelish authorities would not know to look for," Gavhaul scratches his chin idly as he speaks, the most relaxed you've ever seen him. "A ship under Consortium sails would face the less scrutiny than most passing west, under the Broken Arch and down to Port Peril." He smiles. "Well, master Akorian, it seems you killed not just an
enemy of Infernal Cheliax, but an embarrassment. These can be rather difficult, at times even dangerous, to cash in for those without the contacts to reach the right ear. Fortunately, the Consortium has both, depending on how you want to play the game..."
[] Take a reward how in exchange for giving up any claim for the kill
Gain 900 gp
[] In recognition for extraordinary efforts in defense of the ship and her passengers, receive a signed letter attesting that Gorok's Company were the ones to slay the pirate Darsielle Du Moire and thus receive a bounty from the Chelish Navt in Westcrown
Gain Letter of Attestation
OOC: The Scroll you used would have been worth 375 gp.
