Ben:

”Ah, so this would be the bridge of chattering heads, I suppose,” says Ben, walking forward warily.  Coming up to the first head on a stick, he asks in Sylvan, feeling a little ridiculous, “Greetings, who might you be?”

"Why, I am King Augluth IV! Glorious ruler of the Golden Age of Downfall," huffs the rotting head, in Common.

Several of the other heads guffaw in response. "Augluth the Panhandler?" mocks another severed head.

"It was not I who was boiled in oil without so much as a proper dinner cravat on!" responds Augluth, irritated. "And who are these freak strangers, come tromping over our bridge without even a proper herald? Going to see Gullop XIX, that weakling, I expect. A coup is already in the works, I hear." The other heads nod and grunt affirmatively.

Meanwhile, the small claw-handed, gourd-headed figure continues his story to another group of heads, completely oblivious to your arrival. "...and THEN, the blue-scarved highwayman absconded with my entire head - the most glorious stag skull you've ever seen - and all I have is this rattling gourd, now!" He wiggles his head and it rattles, like a muffled sack with a few coins inside.

Ben:

"Shall we introduce ourselves to the heads as we proceed? We may learn something of Downfall's history and how Bavlorna fits into it," suggests Ben.  "Does someone feel capable of being our 'herald' as the King suggests?  It may give us more courtly gravitas," he asks.

Matilda checked her purloined items for a stag skull....

You didn't pick up, nor do you recall seeing, any stag skulls in your travels...

"Ooh that sounds fun! Not sure if I'm fancy enough to herald anyone on my own though," Titaani admits, the silly nature of the talking heads somewhat lessening her fear of them so that her bubbly nature slowly returns. "But I can do this!"

Whispering something to her crystal, she casts minor illusion. As she does, a shiny golden trumpet appears, floating in the air, and lets out the beginning notes of a regal sounding overture. 

"It'll do that every time we approach someone!" Titaani squeals, clearly excited. "That's impressive enough, right?"

"Are you serenading us or crossing a bridge?" mocks the head of King Augluth IV. "By the way, there's a house on fire behind you."

"Oh, hello!" chimes in the gourd-headed entity. "I didn't see you arrive. Is that fire spreading? I don't like fire. I was waiting here until it was safe to pass. I am looking for my head - a most exquisite stag skull with delightfully sharpened points. Have you seen it?"    

"Have you checked Bavlorna's pool?" jokes one of the other heads. "Perhaps she bathes with it?"

The heads all titter and laugh except one. "Not funny," it mutters.

"Just because Mundlemud III drowned you in it doesn't mean we don't get to joke about it, Ufgunk!" chides another.

"Besides, I was just trying to clean you up a little," responds Mundlemud III.

Cadwallader:

This place never stops getting weirder... The heads don't seem too put out by being detached from their bodies. Sure they're griping and complaining, but he suspects that was their usual disposition whenever they weren't sitting on the throne. "Does Madame Bavlorna live here in Downfall, or is her home outside the town?" he asks the nearest head.

"She's right in the middle of the lake!" answers Mundlemud III. "I'd point, but Splop VI boiled my hands in oil"

"Hog grease! Heh heh heh..." choffs Splob VI from its stake.

"Right there." The gourd-headed figure points south-southeast into the fog. "That clothesline is tied to it. I'd go with you but I admit I'm too much of a coward to face Bavlorna. Perhaps you could go in and let me know if you see my head? My name is Clapperclaw, by the way. I've come all the way from Thither."

Ben:

”I would not be surprised if she has it, Clapperclaw—we are all here because we have lost something special to us, and all signs point to her as the culprit,” says Ben.

“We have promised to go visit the current king first, though,” he adds, “What can you tell us of the current state of the monarchy?”

The heads erupt in laughter. "Weak!" one cries, and then another. "Weak!" "Weak!" "Weak!" "Doomed!"

Ben:

Looking around for a waiting spike that might be reserved for the current king’s head, Ben says, “Yes, I heard you talk about a pending change in rulership; it seems you change leaders rapidly here…Perhaps this Bavlorna is using your people, changing the ersatz rulers quickly while retaining the true power herself.”

"Woah, that's actually really smart,' Titaani gapes at Ben. "If we get rid of Bavlorna, this place might enjoy a ruler that lasts longer than two weeks for once."

She then turns to Clapperclaw. "I'm sorry about your head. I could make you a new one if you like, but I'm afraid it'll only be an illusion."

A cacophony of approval goes up from most of the heads at Ben's suggestion, but others vociferously disagree. A couple laugh, "Tell that to Gullop XIX!"

To Titaani, Clapperclaw nods with interest. "That would be nice. Thank you! And can you help me find the real one, too?" 

There are no spare spikes at the moment, but plenty of space to add new ones.

Matilda turns to Cad and Ben, " So.......are they going to put our heads on these when they kill us?  Either the King or the Witch?"

Badly burnt, waterlogged, tired and dispirited Matilda was nonetheless still determined to try and rescue her brother......but there was a creeping realisation that she was going to fail...

"I'd be happy to look for your actual head," Titaani says to Clapperclaw with a smile. "I'm kind of in the business of looking for lost things!"

Her eyes go purple for a moment as she summons the silent image of a beautifully polished stag skull with very sharp points. She gives it to Clapperclaw. 

"It'll last longer if you stay like, decently close to me," Titaani says, then pauses as she struggles to articulate how close. "I...I think..if you go further than a kite's length away from me it'll disappear."

She then get's distracted by Matilda's words. "That's awful. I don't want to be a talking head!! Uh, no offence..." she says quickly to the heads surrounding them. 

Ben:

"I don't see that there are any other course of action but to go forward, Matilda, but we should rest as soon as we may.  A few bandages and a breather should help us immensely," responds Ben, looking back at the flaming building behind them.

Horatio:

Having been muted by mortified shock at the heads on spikes - and they're somehow still alive! - Horatio nods gravely at Matilda's words. "Maybe." He shudders at the sight of the heads. "Too bad we don't have any of those flying coals. We could just put them in Bavlorna's house while she sleeps and watch that witch burn."

"Oh, my!" cries Clapperclaw upon seeing Titaani's illusory stag skull drifting toward him. "This is quite impressive! My original head was perfect in every way, but this is a very nice substitute until we can find it. Thank you!" The figure tries to grab it, but its hands catch nothing but air.

"Burn!" repeats several of the heads with gusto to Horatio's comment. "That's the spirit! You'll be joining us on stakes in no time!"

(Unless you have further business, are you proceeding ahead, over the bridge?)

The group continues across the bridge, followed by snarky comments and sarcastic jeers from the disembodied heads. It ends at a grand marble gazebo, standing atop a mound of soggy earth, its white stone streaked green with algae. The support pillars have sunk into the muck unevenly so that the domed canopy now sits askew. Clapperclaw follows you, still wearing his new illusory head. He sticks close to Titaani. 

Short steps ring the gazebo, leading to a raised floor where bullywugs dressed in shabby clothing lounge on pillows. Among them, a harpist sends forth delicate notes that mingle with the murmured croaking of the gathered nobles. On a dais, a flabby bullywug wearing a crown of woven lily flowers sits on an ornate throne with his legs folded under him. He has a large leather-bound book open across his lap and is mouthing the words he reads on the pages. Without looking up, he says, “Have you no herald to announce your presence before King Gullop the Nineteenth?” He slams the book closed as if to punctuate his question, regarding you for the first time.

Sleepy bullywug guards standing around their monarch snap to attention and ready their weapons.