Chapter 1: The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh

Eshe opens the first and closest door.

Terry, second in line, thrusts the torch through the doorway as soon as it's open, as the moonlight provides insufficient illumination through the sparse windows.

"Indeed, last I recall, there were rumors of some treasure hidden here by the mad alchemist who once lived here," Margot replies. She seems a little disappointed that no one wanted to start up stairs with her, but stays with the majority.

Eshe opens the door on the southern wall of the hallway. This room was once a library, with bookshelves around the walls. Most of the shelves are broken, and in many places they have come away from the wall. The few shelves still intact are empty, but a pile of books rests in the southwest corner.

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"What was alchemist so mad about, Margot?"

Margot shrugs.

"No clue. I haven't been around enough to really ask."

Eshe scoffs at the sight of the library. "Heh....Books. Great for starting campfires...Let's move on."

I'm willing to give it a look. Terry goes into the room, despite the barbarian's opposing cultural values. He picks up one of the books and squints at the contents, trying to tell what it's about.

"Careful! Terry might get thought germs from book!"

Sobek hovers around Terry, ready to snap at anything that looks dangerous.

"It doesn't even have any pictures!" Pong complains, looking over Terry's shoulder.

Knowledge is power and all that, but those books are either ghost or treasure. Lets move on. If they are important they will be here when we come back

The mention of the word treasure piques Sobek's interest.

"Booty?" he says in disbelief, lifting a book by its corner like it might give him a disease.

The book that Terry picks up is called The Magical Properties of Gemstones by the archmage Tenser

Whatever. I'm checking this one out, though Terry puts the book in his pack and moves on with Eshe to the next door.

Eshe moves along and opens the door on the north wall of the hallway. This room was once a writing room or study. Against the wall under the windows sits a large wooden writing desk, partially broken and riddled with damp rot. There are three drawers in each side of the desk and a large central drawer; the latter is closed, but the others are all open — and two of them have been broken open forcibly.

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