Story - Ghosts of Saltmarsh - Secrets and Lies Part 1

Ghosts of Saltmarsh - Secrets and Lies

Gerrin Copperhands was broadshoulderd and barrel-chested. His short legs were like pillars holding up his heavy torso. His beard was long and full but his head bald and circled by a thick ring of hair above his ears and the back of his neck. He was a dwarf, and a dwarven warrior at that. A chain shirt covered him to his waist and set beside his chair was a huge double-headed war-axe.

"The Wicker Goat," Ashtamit gave a quiet laugh.

"Listen Ash..." began Gerrin but he was interrupted by the appearance of Berren and Oriane carrying four full mugs of ale.

"So this is your cousin's place," said Oriane as she set two mugs on the scarred wooden table stained with years of spilled ale. Oriane was red-haired and slim, dressed in leather armor, a short sword sheathed at her side and three throwing knives sheathed to the belt on her opposite hip.

"No, never said that," Gerrin shook his head as he replied, one hand reaching for a mug of ale as he spoke.

Berren set his two mugs down lightly with typical elven delacacy. He was a Wood Elf, dark-haired, beardless and fair. His longbow and quiver of arrows were set against his chair and he put his hand to his bow as he sat.

"It is where she stays," Gerrin explained, "or the mines, but we're meeting her here."

Oriane groaned, "So no free room and board then."

Gerrin's mouth was full of ale and he swallowed it with a long drawn-out series of gulps followed by an indraw of air then a pleased smack of his lips. "Sadly no, fair Ory."

"So when will she be here?" Ash asked as she ran a finger around the lip of her mug. She raised a dark eyebrow at the dwarf. Ashtamit was extrordinarily beautiful. A stout wooden staff with a carved and notted head she had set against her shoulder.

Berren sat next to her and put an affectionate arm on her shoulder. She leaned toward him and the kissed in a long and lingering way.

Gerrin gave a snort and shook his head at the pair.

"Wait," Ory exclaimed quietly. "Is this her?"

From their table they could see the stairs to the second floor. Down the steps came a dwarven woman. Her auburn hair was thick and braided, her shoulders broad, her waist thick with muscle, full-breasted and strong-limbed. Gerrin had said she was once a warrior of his clan and she looked formidable still, if unarmed and unarmored.

"That is her," Gerrin leapt to his feet and gave a quick march to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. "Cousin!" he exclaimed loudly.

A half-smile formed on her lips thaty was instantly turned into a scowl. "Don't Cousin me you coal-stealer," she said and wrapped him in an crushing embrace.

The pair walked arm and arm to the table. Gerrin dropped into his chair and faced his cousin, as did his three companions.

Gerrin's cousin looked them over then leaned forward, her hands braced against the table-edge. "I'm Manistrad Copperlocks and I have a job for you. I need you to explore a haunted house."