Into the bayou...
[sblock="for Hrimr"]Nothing registers as magical. You're very confidant that the flask is filled with the he strongest moonshine Bannock's ever smelled.[/sblock]
You take what loot you desire and then head to sleep or back onto the watch order. The remainder of the evening is uneventful and you arise eight hours later rested and healed of any wounds. The dead lizardfolk are covered in flies and mosquitos and the ever present drizzle results in damp tents and blankets. After a quick breakfast, you pile your gear into the boats and set off into the swamp.
Your boats ply through the murky water by pole or oar. You dodge muddy islands covered in shrubbery or gnarled and twisted trees, and head down narrow riverways clogged with spider webs filled with dead birds and small animals. Some parts are wide open and too deep to pole and others are shallow, muddy and require portaging. Occasionally you pass strange markers in the distance: bizarre shapes carved into the trees, or a cluster of rotting humanoid heads held by small blood-stained spears. The drizzle is relentless and at the end of your first day your boots are caked with mud, your clothes are wet and its all you can do to rest your weary bodies by a small fire. Watches are kept and asides from the biting insects and some strange sounds in the distance, nothing dangerous transpires.
Towards the end of the second day of similar travel you come across a large and relatively dry patch of land in the middle of a shallow lagoon. Muscles aching and wet clothes clinging scratchily to your skin you gladly moor your boats and disembark as the sun begins to set behind grey skies. Tents are pitched, bedrolls laid out and a campfire is easily started from fuel gathered from a large fallen tree. Herbal tea is brewed and rations are shared over a couple of hours as yet another sombre evening in the swamp sets in.
Slapping at an insect on her scarred neck Torrent says:
"Well, judging from the maps, I think we've come about two thirds of the way through this charming area. One more day of travel and we should be out of here and on the last road to Seaquen. Why don't we open that flask and..." Her eyes narrow as she trails off, looking over your shoulder and gazing into the fallen darkness around you. Turning to follow her eyes you all see a faint light in the distance. It appears to be suspended in a thick cloud of fog and is slowly approaching your camp.
Suddenly, an eerie female voice begins to sing out in the darkness. The voice is singing in common and you hear lyrics that suggest the great and wonderful pleasures that can be found by purifying yourself in the sacred waters surrounding you.
********
Initiative Order
1 - Lars
2 - Arnir
3 - Kirio
4 - Bannock
5 - DM #3 (W)
6 - Hrimr
7 - Diashan
8 - DM #2 (D)
9 - Torrent
10 - Alric
11 - DM #1 (C)
********
Marsh Attack - Round 1
| GM: | I've set an initiative clock because actions here need to go round by round.
As with the last situation, the only light is from your campfire. |
|
