Rawlings looks amused as she hears the discussion with the family and the misunderstanding.  Well, at least now they know what happened, and it definitely seems like something that can be rectified.

As they check out the soldiers before they leave, Rawlings quietly pipes up when the Corporal asks Tor what the plan is, "Guess we are ridding this area of rot trolls because of this situation you got yourselves in.  Any tips on rot trolls?"

Quote from kqstark >>

Rawlings looks amused as she hears the discussion with the family and the misunderstanding.  Well, at least now they know what happened, and it definitely seems like something that can be rectified.

As they check out the soldiers before they leave, Rawlings quietly pipes up when the Corporal asks Tor what the plan is, "Guess we are ridding this area of rot trolls because of this situation you got yourselves in.  Any tips on rot trolls?"

Corporal Rather shrugs, "Sorry ma'am, I don't know anything about 'rot trolls.' I just know what everyone knows about trolls in general, I suppose, use acid or fire. Under Helm's watchful eye, I've had the good fortune to never encounter trolls myself." He appears simultaneously embarrassed and relieved at this fact.

"Vandeyr, would you ask the lizardfolk if it would be alright if I heal some of the worst injuries among the prisoner?  I cannot leave them suffering from these wounds in a swamp, but I'd prefer not to set them off thinking I was trying to start a revolt."

"Seems like you stumbled onto a misunderstanding, Corporal," Tor responds. "These traders know just enough of the lizard tongue to get themselves into trouble, and not enough to get back out of it. I commend you for taking action, but asking a few questions yourselves might have avoided this whole situation."

He leaves a second for his message to sink in before continuing "But what's done is done, we live and learn. The lizard folk have agreed to let you all go, as Rawlings says, after we've taken out a few of these rotting trolls for them. So don't worry lads, we'll get you home. Then you can ask Sergeant Yorrum why we had to hear about this from concerned citizens and not him. Which one of you is Vester by the way? I'm told your lady is mighty worried about you."

If Siegfried is allowed to heal the soldiers Tor will then step away and assess whether it would be wise to start their journey now, or rest up? 

Survival? Nature?

(What time is it roughly?)

Quote from EMIW >>

"Seems like you stumbled onto a misunderstanding, Corporal," Tor responds. "These traders know just enough of the lizard tongue to get themselves into trouble, and not enough to get back out of it. I commend you for taking action, but asking a few questions yourselves might have avoided this whole situation."

He leaves a second for his message to sink in before continuing "But what's done is done, we live and learn. The lizard folk have agreed to let you all go, as Rawlings says, after we've taken out a few of these rotting trolls for them. So don't worry lads, we'll get you home. Then you can ask Sergeant Yorrum why we had to hear about this from concerned citizens and not him. Which one of you is Vester by the way? I'm told your lady is mighty worried about you."

If Siegfried is allowed to heal the soldiers Tor will then step away and assess whether it would be wise to start their journey now, or rest up? 

Survival? Nature?

(What time is it roughly?)

 The only human who hadn't spoken looks up at Tor's question. He was a large barrel-chested man--the kind someone who didn't know better might call "fat," but who could lift a bull, and whose strength came from probably doing just that on a farm--who barely seemed to fit in the cage.

His voice matched his frame, a rumbling bass that you almost felt more than heard. He saluted sheepishly, "I'm Vester, sir. Breltora? Is she alright, sir?" He asks worriedly.

(It's nearing dawn. The storm is lightening, but still prevents the sun from being more than a feeble light. You CAN continue, but you'll start to risk gaining levels of exhaustion)

After some discussion, the lizardfolk are not opposed to letting Brother Siegfried heal the soldiers, so long as they stay in the cage.

Quote from Wizardously >>

 

His voice matched his frame, a rumbling bass that you almost felt more than heard. He saluted sheepishly, "I'm Vester, sir. Breltora? Is she alright, sir?" He asks worriedly.

 "You'd have to ask my colleague Brother Siegfried there, she approached him about it. And Private Danforth came to see me. Friend of yours I believe, Corporal." 

Once Siegfried has healed the soldiers as much as he likes, Tor will suggest "We should get some sleep a while. We're knackered from just those two trolls, and if we've got another five to come I don't want to be battling my own eyelids as well. I know it'll be getting light soon, but we should get as much of a rest as we can."

Vandeyr moves back to chieftain Hissain. "Chieftain, my party and I believe this was perhaps an overzealous merchant attempting to haggle, not cheat. Their grasp of your language is not as good as they imagine. If you should need to speak with them, verify their words with the young one, there." He points out the young girl.

"We would like to provide some aid to the injured and rest here before heading out to take care of the trolls. Brother Siegfried will care for our people,and I will care for yours. Is this acceptable?"

Brother Siegfried approaches the cages, holy amulet in hand.  "Breltora was fearful for your wellbeing, but otherwise well.  It was her impassioned plea that someone look into your disappearance that drew the Swords out here into the Mire."

Then he bows his head and raises his other hand.  "Chauntea, Goddess of Earth and Field, Shephardess and protector of the flock... grant these souls a reprieve from their wounds.  Make me a conduit of your grace and mercy, oh Earthmother."

[Sigi uses his channel divinity feature to heal any injured prisoners up to 1/2 their maximum hit points.  He has a pool of 35HP to work with.]

While the others chat with the prisoners and lizardfolk, Rawlings looks for a decently dry place to attempt a rest before heading off to fight the trolls.  Once the others eventually come over to join her, she offers to take the first watch seeing she is fine, just wants to avoid any exhaustion.

Once all is done, Tor makes his way over to where Rawlings is setting up camp. He nods in approval. "This is a good spot." The trouble with the swamp was that most dry spots were raised up out of the waterlogged earth, even just a little, making anyone trying to keep out of the wet that bit more visible to the surrounding landscape. But it was better to be dry.

If there is a fire going, Tor will remove his boots and socks, and arrange them so that they slowly dry while the group sleeps, or if there's one close enough he will keep them on and orientate himself with his feet towards it. If there is no fire, he will just keep them on, and put up with the damp between his toes. There's nothing worse than putting wet socks back on.

At Rawling's offer of taking first watch, Tor agrees. "We should be fine with the lizardfolk here, but its always best to keep a look out. Wake me in a few hours, I'll take second watch."

In the Mere, "dry" is a relative term, meaning "slightly less wet." Nevertheless, Rawlings, as an experienced adventurer, is able to find an area of relative dryness that's within the circle of the lizardfolk sentries--such as they are--but offers a modicum of privacy owing to a pair of stunted cypress trees and a hollowed out cypress trunk forming a slight "wall." One could easily fashion a makeshift tent by tying a cloak or blanket between the trees. 

Quote from Bartjeebus >>

Brother Siegfried approaches the cages, holy amulet in hand.  "Breltora was fearful for your wellbeing, but otherwise well.  It was her impassioned plea that someone look into your disappearance that drew the Swords out here into the Mire."

Then he bows his head and raises his other hand.  "Chauntea, Goddess of Earth and Field, Shephardess and protector of the flock... grant these souls a reprieve from their wounds.  Make me a conduit of your grace and mercy, oh Earthmother."

[Sigi uses his channel divinity feature to heal any injured prisoners up to 1/2 their maximum hit points.  He has a pool of 35HP to work with.]

 The soldiers' wounds mostly heal, leaving only bruises and scrapes. You can see the relief on their faces as the pain decreases. Each offers thanks in their own way, from the effusive praise of Boren, to the professional thanks of Corporal Rather, to the simple nod of Brash the dwarf, and the grateful handshake of Vester, whose hand is the size of another man's skull and whose grip feels like he might be able to crush said skull within it.

(If there's anything you wish to do before the next day let me know)

The night passes uneventfully, disturbed only by the passing of occasional sounds of the mere, mostly drowned out by the rumbling snores of private Vester.

Those on watch see nothing untoward, aside from the glinting eyes of a giant alligator swimming by nearly silent, and the flapping of a small swarm of bats and the buzzing of the insects they hunt.

Those who sleep are disturbed by dreams that aren't remembered upon waking, other than glimpses of a grinning age-stained skull looking out from a leaning, cracked tower seemingly carved from a single piece of obsidian.

(If Brother Siegfried sleeps, he can make a religion check to know more about his dreams)

Vandeyr's alchemical tools appear to have been in use overnight, in spite of him being asleep. A faint scent of sulfur surrounds it. 

As Vandeyr awakes, he examines the two vials that have presented themselves, raising an eyebrow in interest. He takes a tiny sip of each. 

"Looks like... Some temporary hardening of the skin, aaand... Ooo, minor shape changing. Very minor, but potentially useful. It can make you look like someone else, or even add some gills or claws. Very cool. I'm ready when you all are. Although I am unsure if I am the best man to hold this sword, I certainly could. I've never trained with a sword like it, but it could be interesting to try it out. Learn the swordplay, and maybe the next step: the artificers of the lizardfolk. I should make that a bit more dramatic, for a book perhaps. Memoirs. Something." 

"Did I just see you drink from strange potions left here overnight?" Tor raises his own eyebrow. "I'd exercise a bit more caution in future, what if they'd been poison?"

He regains his socks and boots, and slips them on with a sigh of relief. Warm and dry. A little bit of luxury in this cursed place, for as long as it lasted.

"I'm sure I could use a sword like that just fine, but I prefer something with a bit more weight. See what you can do with it. I'm happy with this maul you've enchanted for me."

Tor rubs his eyes. That dream, so disturbing, though he couldn't say why. He'd seen skulls before. Maybe if he could remember the rest of it... On the other hand, maybe it was better left forgotten.

Vandeyr shrugs. "The bottles are part of an ongoing experiment. Very spontaneous product, but still quite incredible. It's the future of the world if I can manage to mass produce it." 

Brother Siegfried awakens.  He didn't realize how tired his body had become during their journey and battles, until he collapsed into slumber.  The dreams... were they just dreams or something more?  

Religion: 21

The vague memory of the dreams linger as the party awakens, its provenance and meaning a mystery even to Brother Siegfried. The storm has mostly passed, but it continues to rain lightly.

As you all begin to make your way, you notice Vitha, the lizardfolk hunter, squatting a comfortable distance away. You didn't notice her at first because, as a lizardfolk, she sits stock still, something that the warmblooded races have difficulty doing. Like all lizardfolk, the clothing she wears is worn for purpose or decoration rather than decency. She wears a sash of green cloth, woven through with patterns that have meaning only to the tribe, over top of this, sits a wide belt of leather with steel plates riveted on, decorated with beads of bone and claw. Hanging from her belt is a sickle, whose blade is made of bone, and a quiver full of arrows with red-fletching. In her hand she holds both a bow made of bone and horn, and a short spear. Pushed back from her shoulders is a simple poncho made of the same green cloth, edged in brown and black.

When she realizes that you've seen her, she says in broken common--her mouth, never meant for such a language adds a strange accent to the words, "When ready, let Vitha know," she says, tapping her chest. "Vitha will guide."

Missed this post entirely somehow. 

Vandeyr nods and returns in draconic "Thank you, Vitha. Lead on, we will follow."

Tor adjusts the strap of his maul, getting it comfortable between his shoulder blades. He nods as Vandeyr acknowledges their guide, and adds "West, yes? Or shall we cut across south-west? Might save time."