To the prisoner  "um good knight. We freed the fey dragon. She is waiting by our raft as we converse."

One of the darklings rolls his eyes and makes an elaborate show of getting up from his seat. With a droll monotone he recites the merchant spiel in forced syllables, staring at Faelan with half-open dark eyes:

Wel-come. to. Won-drous. Wares. and. Fair. Fares. I. am. Trinket. and. this. is. Bauble. How. may. we. help. you. today. Sir.

-----------------------------------------

The bullywug knight looks at Flynn with an expression of confusion.

I think thou art mistaken sir. It is I who freed the faerie dragon from Bavlorna's cottage, and my friend Wigglewog who carried her from hence on a commandeered balloon. By now they are far from here and safe from the hag's clutches. If you are seeking to claim responsibility in my stead in order to absolve me from guilt and free me from bondage, I commend your selfless chivalry but insist that it is not necessary. I shall face mine accusers with honor and accept my punishment with dignity.

"Ye have freed her from the cottage. The young miss here freed her from the cage.so ti's all of us who have freed the noble.one from most of her imprisonment.  Wigglewog? "  to Navi. "Did we find anyone else at the crashed balloon?"

Zeg stands by watching as Faelan speaks with the merchants.

Zeg's sharp analytical eyes take in the details of this small merchant stall. The pitiful amount of stock on offer and the indifferent attitude of the salesmen, combined with the complex and potent method of transportation... Zeg could conclude that this stall is in fact just a cover for some other business, and furthermore that there is likely a more powerful sponsor behind this venture.

--------------------------------------------

(My apologies, I just detected an error in one of my previous posts. The knight in the cell is named Sir Morgort. I incorrectly introduced her as "Sir Wigglewog".)

The account of finding Mercion the faerie dragon starts at this post:
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/d-d-beyond-general/play-by-post/175321-zorgs-lost-souls-ii?comment=481

Sir Morgort looks again at Flynn with a fresh expression of surprise. Freed from the cage? Crashed balloon? Please, tell me what you know!

"We found the balloon crashed in a tower in the swamp." He points "thataway I think, directions get so confusing here.  The balloon was punctured. Mercies was locked away in the cage. And unfortunately despite.miss Navi's best efforts the pilot of the balloon. Wigglewog you say their name was. We'll unfortunately they didn't make it"

Ah, alas! For I find I am hurt indeed, wounded with an unseen and unstauchable wound. Alas for Wigglewog! Faithful Wigglewog!

It is a strange world in which a lady is called "Sir", but perhaps it is the ignorance of the bullywugs and their attempt at courtly etiquette. Nevertheless, Sir Morgort pauses for a moment of grief, then she continues: 

These are sad tidings indeed, and yet I thank thee for the service thou hast rendered. You say that Mercion has returned with you hence? I hope not for the purpose of seeking my deliverance from bonds. What brings you here and how might I aid you, friends of Mercion?

Navi hadn't realized Flynn had followed her. However, he was a lot more efficient in conversation. The little fairy's eyes bounced between the two, nodding along. She knew exactly who they were talking about and had remembered what happened. It was a sad loss for them to have lost Wigglewog, but Navi was also happy she gained a fae dragon friend Mercion.

"They haven't followed us in, but they're not far." Navi assures. For as flighty as she is, she's being a bit mindful of her words because there are guards around. If they imprisoned Mercion's friend, she didn't want to endanger Mercion to have the same fate. She's pretty sure this was more of a meeting of chance than an assigned mission to free Morgort, but she was pumped all the same. "Well! We are on our way to the hag over at yonder lake." She shares. "It would be cool to have a pilot with us." She admits. Whether they needed one or not, whether Morgort wanted to come with them the whole way or not, Navi figured it was at least worth trying to unite them if they could.

Faelan stops munching on his carrot as darklings droll on their very monotone schpiel. He looks at them with a weird face. "Haaa gimme a sec fellas. Ah'll be back." He steps back, and he turns around to find out that only Zerg followed him to the merchant's stall. "Ah don't know about ya, but these guys gimme the creeps. Something ain't right bout'em." He looks around.  "Where's everybody else?"

Zeg looks around. "I think they uh, went to see the prisoner and interrogate them." Zeg says, a bit unsure of himself at the moment.  He isn't sure how to proceed now that they have split up.  "Maybe we just ought to, you know, wait for them?"

“Sure thing doc.” Faelan says as he gets closer to the Owlin, and he turns around looking at the storm that’s the balloon. “Ya know, ah’m curios bout that thing up there.” He points at the phenomenon. “Ya have any idea how they contain that thing?”

As Faelan and Zeg loiter around the storm-balloon, the two darklings begin to get irritated, and soon call out: "Hey, if ya aint' buyin' then clear off! The boss isn't here, so come back later if that's who yer after!"

Likewise, Flynn and Navi find there isn't much else they can do for Sir Morgort, so they bid farewell and depart the prison. Meeting up together again, the group continue on to the 'palace', the somewhat grimy and slimy hall where the bulk of the bullywug courtiers is. In fact, it would seem that just about every bullywug in Downfall is some kind of 'noble', with a title and fancy dress to match their attempts at pomposity. A few of the many 'barons' or 'duchesses' or 'earls' who are most interested in clothing and heraldry help to outfit the harengon, the owlin, the fairy and the human in what they assure them is clothing fit for a member of the Soggy Court, complete with coats of arms to adorn their hats or tabards or capes or sashes. Finally they deem the group suitably attired, and ready to proceed with their mission as envoys of the king to the Lady of the Lake-house, Miss Bavlorna Blightstraw. A small rowboat is brought, and the group are invited to paddle across the misty lake to the small dock at the base of flight of wooden steps that climbs to the hag's cottage.

[You will most likely be free to come and go from the hag's cottage if desired. Even so, if there is anything else the group wants to do before proceeding, then feel free to embellish the foregoing descriptions. How (or if!) each of you are dressed is up to your imagination.]

The cottage is a massive wooden edifice built on stilts, its floor 35 feet above the lake, with a 5-foot-wide stone column rising from the lake into the center of the bottom level. A rickety wooden staircase with no railing rises from the lake, wrapping around the column as it climbs to a wooden trapdoor in the floor of the bottom level.

Ascending the staircase and passing through the trapdoor leads the group into a large square room. A recessed pool lined with moldy clay tiles takes up most of this room. Stagnant water fills the depression to a depth of one foot. Rising from the pool’s center is the head of a stone well that gives off an unpleasant, pungent odor. In one corner of the pool stands a tall, dirty, freestanding mirror in an oval frame, and floating on the water is a large lily pad.

Creaky wooden floorboards are arranged in a ten-foot-wide raised walkway around the pool. This walkway is crowded with shelves, tables, and stools in all shapes and styles. Almost every available surface is littered with stacks of dirty plates, scraps of food, and old junk. Dressing dummies are pushed together in one corner, and a wooden staircase spirals up from another corner.

Five doors lead from the room. The door on the left is slightly ajar, and a large workshop can be vaguely discerned beyond. Two of the doors on the right open to large storage closets - one contains scraps of cloth and yarn in piles, and the other a large wooden cupboard. Through the door between the two closets is a staircase leading upward.

The final door is in the south wall, directly beside the trapdoor the group has entered through, and leads onto a ten-foot-wide balcony. This runs almost the length of the cottage and is covered from end to end with living frogs. At each end of the balcony, attached to one corner of the cottage just beyond easy reach, is a clothesline draped with patchwork garments. The two lines stretch out over the lake and disappear into the thick fog.

Before going into the cottage Faelan readies his twin scimitars. "What's the plan fellas?"