Haskell's tale
Erf said:
"Hey Soren! Filled up nicely, hey? Could ye do me a bitte a favor 'n tell me who'd be most knowledgeable about the swamp 'n such in here?"
"Well, you might..." Soren begins, he but is quickly interrupted.
"Par'n me, youngster, did these old ears happen to hear you ask about the swamp?" an elderly man limps quickly over with the aid of a gnarled stick.
"Oh, now you've done it," sighs one of the halflings, to general laughter and calls for more refills.
Erf said:
"Hey there, my names Erf, I'm a forest gnome that's why I'm green. I was wonderin' if you folks might be able to tell me a bitte stuff about the swamp 'n its denizens? Course if ye can I'd be more than happy to keep your throats lubricated, seeing as talkin's thirsty work!"
The old man gives Erf a delighted and mostly toothless grin, quickly producing an empty tankard and handing it to Soren and settling himself comfortably on a nearby chair.
"Well, a forest gnome! I met one o' yer kind afore, when I was a lad a-wandrin' the world..."
"Haskell, if you've ever set foot fifty miles from this spot in your life, I'll eat that stick!" a woman calls.
"Pretty as a picture she were, and the times we had..." Haskell continues, giving no indication of having heard the heckler.
"Ah, but that ain't the story yer wantin' to hear, is it. The swamp! Back in my day, we had things under control. We was masters of that swamp, we was, and in my time I roamed every inch of it. I killed lizards of every size, from fingerlings to great scaly beasts twice as long as yer tall friend over there. I killed poisonous snakes as big around as my waist. Once I even saw a ghoul, great ugly thing that it was..."
"That was probably your reflection, old man," another man quips.
"...but we 'bout never saw lizardfolk in those days, no sir! They knew well enough to hide from us. But nowadays, these young folks ain't half the men their fathers used to be, and the lizardfolk have taken things over. It all came to a cusp about eight or ten years ago, when young Cardith Burwood took it into his head to go a-tradin' with 'em."
"That was five years ago, you fool, just before my Samith was born!" the woman interjects.
"I used to trade with those lizardfolk just fine before Cardith went and spoiled things! Damned fool he was..." the man's voice is angry, and for a minute everyone in the inn is talking at once, some agreeing and some disagreeing with the man. It has the flavor of an old, played-out argument, and the noise subsides quickly enough when Haskell's surprisingly piercing voice rises over the din.
"Now, now, who's a-tellin' this here tale, hmm? Bide a while, and you'll get yer say when I'm done talkin'," he says, standing and shaking his stick feebly at the room.
"I'll be dead by then," someone grumbles, but without rancor.
Haskell sits and takes a long pull at his tankard before continuing.
"Now, then. Cardith, he weren't the first to go a-tradin' in the swamp," with a nod to the man who spoke up before.
"...and he..." He catches the eye of the older woman behind the bar, and pauses before continuing.
"Well, whatever his faults, he was a good man. A good man. Now, he took a big chest fulla treasure, gold and jewels such, a right fortune. He hired six guards, tall strapping lads from the Monemvassian guard, with halberds and shiny breastplates and magic rings..."
"It was two lads from Grenton with pitchforks," mutters the man, but he is quickly hushed.
"We went ten days hearing nary a word from the swamp, until one gray misty morning I was hunting in the swamp a few miles north o' here, when I suddenly heard a distant scream. I ran that way, arrow to my bowstring, and I came across poor Cardith. He was down under three lizardfolk warriors, big hulking brutes eight feet tall, and they was eatin' him, tearin' off hunks o' bloody flesh and wolfin' em down like Torin there with a leg o' mutton. I shot four arrows into one of 'em afore they stopped eatin' and run off, makin' a noise like I hope never to hear again. When I come up to poor Cardith, it was too late. He was gone." He stops and lifts his tankard in salute to the dead man, and drains it, setting it aside for Soren to refill. Most of the others join him in the toast. After a moment he continues.
"When I carried his body back, I'm proud to say that there weren't no shortage of volunteers to go back in that swamp and bring some justice. Corvin there led us," Haskell points his stick at a tall man in the back corner, who hasn't spoken yet.
"about thirty strong, with whatever weapons we could lay to hand. As for what happened then..." he shakes his head slowly.
"Best not to dwell on just what we did to those lizardfolk when we found 'em. They put up a good fight, though, and not all of us came back. Larmas swelled up and turned purple after he'd killed three of them, and we never did find out what bit him. Tamwell Berrywell got pulled under by one of those big lizards. Pelled took a spear in the belly and died on the way back. But we drove 'em off, and set fire to what was left. We never did find Cardith's treasure, but we only got to one village, and they probably got two or three more farther in the swamps. 'Twas an ugly business, right enough, but we showed 'em a hard enough time that we haven't had any trouble with 'em since."
[sblock=sense motive DC 5]Haskell is probably embellishing a bit.
[sblock=DC 10]Haskell looks pretty feeble to have been out hunting alone and carrying bodies five years ago
[sblock=DC 15]From the way people quieted when he told of the deaths of Larmas, Tamwell, and Pelled, they must have actually died on the expedition.
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