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Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1006563" data-attributes="member: 2292">Zalich's Journal, Entry EightWhat needs to be said about Saltmarsh that one could understand my retelling of what came next?  How does one speak of a town that has earned such disbelief and irritation with its attitudes and general ineptness?  I'm not sure that I can convey such things correctly, but I will try.At first the place seemed a godsend.  After three days trapped by the storm, and several more spent repairing an ageing boat near the monastery to enable our escape from the isle we were stranded on, any sign of civilisation was welcome.  As we trudged along the trail that lead into town we marvelled at the site of clustered buildings, shepherds tending flocks and the marvellous sight of modern docks with fishing boats clustered.  Despite the rain that seemed to soak us through to the very skin, Saltmarsh was a welcome stop-over in our journey back to civilisation.Sometimes, we become enthused for the most idiotic of things, and after days of deprivation even stagnant water will appeal to a thirsty man.  Had we been in more alert and cognitive state of mind, I'm sure we would have seen Saltmarsh for what it was - a backwater town clinging to the edge of a loathsome swamp, filled to the brim with ungrateful fools to stupid to realise that life was better elsewhere.  I think Kull, at least, may have noted something akin to that as we approached as I heard him sniffing about the lack of defences and town guard, but even he seemed relatively pleased to see human beings once more (in a threatening and angry kind of way.  Kull is a harsh man, or Orc if you will, but I'm sure there's a pleasant and decent man beneath the surface regardless of his abrasiveness).  Even with our expectations so badly warped by isolation, we might have paid more attention to the omens of ill luck that surrounded the town.  The rain didn't stop for as long as we stayed there, and my first action upon stepping onto the slick town paths was to slip and damage my shoulder badly enough that I would spend the next week bedridden.  Spells would be beyond my abilities, at least the ability to cast with any reliability, which is always a bad sign for a wizard no matter what his stature and skill.  Of course, I failed to see this for the omen it was, instead rejoicing through my pain when I realised I would be spared any further contact with my companions from the shipwreck.  "At last," I thought to myself as I convalesced in a room rented from the local inn, "I'll let myself heal, perfectly safe from the expectation of further adventure, and when I'm well I'll hire onto a passing ship and escape the fools forever."My incapacitation didn't over-ride years of training, though, and while I recovered I spent a great deal of time expanding on the sudden awareness of my own skills that had awakened while I was in the monastery.  I mastered the use of at least two new spells, one that would allow me to channel a shock of raw energy through my very touch and another that raised a shield of magical energy to protect me from foes.  When I was sure I'd mastered the long forgotten techniques taught to me by my master, I moved on to the task of scribing scroll after scroll.  While there was little need for such items on the ship's I'd been travelling on previously, the shipwreck had taught me to be prepared for all eventualities - never again would I be without the power to defend myself should such an event happen again.  In the spare pages of my spellbook I even went so far as to jot notes of new spells I'd prepare to master, trying to bend the techniques I had memorised to their utmost, as well as exploring some way of melding the heating magic of my cantrips to a mundane kettle.  All of this was beyond my current skills, but the tingling sense of anticipation at mastering new knowledge set me planning for things I had long ignored.  At some point during my recovery, it occurred to me that my adventures had awakened a sudden desire to learn more about my spells and powers - the simple life of a cook and alchemist wouldn't satisfy as much as it once had.Perhaps this is why, after my arm had healed and I was free to explore the town once more, I set out to find Kull, Brodnack, Troilan and the others and offered to help them in the mission they'd adopted.  They seemed please to see me, and even went so far as to hand over some spellbooks they'd recovered from evil wizards they'd battled over the past week.  "There are smugglers in yonder hills," Kull explained (although I render his speech more prosaic here than it is in real life, in an effort to represent the inner man rather than the gruff exterior).  The others were enthused with the plan of returning to some ruined house and flushing out the rest of the sea-scourge they'd discovered, but Brodnack disappeared with a strumpet he'd somehow taken a fancy too.  There was a look of idiotic love in the young man's eyes, and I knew the heartache that he was destined to feel in the near future.A life on the sea teaches you such things, you understand.  With so many of us taking to the waves to avoid the memories of the lost or unrequited, you soon find the signs of trouble easy to spot.  We would not see Brodnack for several days, by which time he had a lighter purse and a taint of civilisation in his innocent barbarian worldview.</blockquote>

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