The party decides to bide their time, allowing any lizardfolk ashore to spot the Lady Saradie and make note of her presence before they take the longboat to land. With a plan to wait for about an hour, the crew settles into their routine, and Tinker sets to work preparing lunch.
As the midday sun warms the deck, the tantalizing aroma of fish stew drifts up from the galley. When the meal is ready, Tinker calls everyone to gather, proudly serving a rich, savory stew made from salted cod, potatoes, onions, and herbs, with just a hint of smoked paprika for warmth. Freshly baked ship’s biscuits accompany the stew, soft and slightly sweetened with a splash of rum, alongside tangy pickled vegetables and a small offering of citrus wedges to stave off scurvy. For those inclined, cubes of hard cheese provide a salty snack.
The crew eats in clusters around the deck, the clatter of bowls and low murmur of conversation mixing with the sound of waves lapping against the hull. Tinker bustles between groups, checking that everyone has their fill and cracking a joke or two to keep the mood light. “Nothing too heavy for lunch... I need to keep you light on your feet in case you need to come a'running back to the ship!” he quips, drawing a round of chuckles. With bellies full and spirits buoyed by the hearty meal, the crew readies themselves for what lies ahead.
Jory has continued to watch the shoreline, but hasn't spotted any thing. Taking Captain Eron aside, he mentions, "It would be wise to make the investment in a spyglass, Captain. They can be bitterly expensive, but there is only so much they naked eye can do without one."
[Do you go ashore in the longboat? Do you take any members of the crew with you in the landing party? What instructions do you leave for those who remain behind?]
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
The blue-haired half-elf thoroughly enjoys the tasty lunch served and the good mood surrounding it. On her voyage across the Azure sea the meals had been quite plain and bland compared to what Tinker just had served up and the time ahead on the Saradie immediately seemed even more promising.
As the hour passes without any sign of the Lizardfolk, Arlynn sends the invisible Zzplorff hovering ahead into them marsh, scouting for Lizardfolk, other potantial threats and a possible route inland to the Lizardfolk settlement.
Eron nods in agreement with Jory, “That’s true a spyglass would be a good investment. Me Fane Arlynn and Lyrric are gonna take to shore for this assignment. I want you an the rest of the crew to hold tight for 24 hours. If trouble arises leave and circle back here within that time. If anything changes we’ll try communicating with Leo. Worst case head back to Saltmarsh. Okay Jory you’re in charge keep em safe, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Fane would spend the time on the ship getting to know the crew, with an occasional check through Leo's eyes, as she circled the ship. She would use her Shape Water to mimic the scene of the jumping fish to entertain.
She would tell them about Oceanus, in case any Merfolk showed up, during lunch, as she ate the delicious soup.
When the time comes to head out, she'll ritual cast Comprehend Languages in case it comes in handy with anyone they meet.
Once lunch is complete, Eron thanks Tinker, “I’m certain we’ve got the best cook. Tinker that was wonderful. Everyone listen up, I know some species can hold their breathe and swim like fish, I’m not sure about Lizardfolk, but be vigilant obey Jory in my absence. I pray things go well and we’ll be back in a timely fashion, it is an honor to be your Captain, alright let’s disembark.”
Lyrric was seated cross-legged on a barrel and polished off his second helping of stew, looked up with mock indignation at Tinker's joke bout eating a light lunch.
"Tinker, I’m a halfling ... we're always light on our feet. I could eat twice this, sneak around the lot of you, and still have room for more biscuits!" He grinned and waved his spoon for emphasis.
Lyrric hopped down from the barrel, dusted some crumbs off his coat and grabbed his gear.
"Right," Lyrric said, adjusting his hat. "Let’s see if these lizardfolk are in a talking mood today."
A thought crossed his mind just then. "We can talk to them ... right?"
"Well, we've only briefly encountered one of them so far, but although he wasn't in the best of moods when he left he definitely had a smattering of the common tongue."The blue-haired half-elf says with a small smile as she readies herself to get ashore.
Before they depart, Fane will give Jory a vial."A healing potion, hand brewed by your ship's wizard"she says with a smile, "for emergencies, in case anything happens to the crew while we are gone."
Eron will use his marine training to guide the boat safely to shore once their he will secure it the best he can. After that he will search for signs of lizardfolk in the area.
Jory takes the potion from Fane, looking at is with a hint of uncertainty, but he thanks her all the same.
The crew of the Lady Saradie gathers along the rails as the longboat is lowered into the water, their voices a mix of encouragement and idle chatter as the adventurers climb aboard and begin to row toward shore. For a time, the crew leans on the railing, watching the small boat cut through the calm blue waters toward the distant spit of sand. After a few moments, however, Jory’s gruff voice breaks through the reverie. “Quit gawking, you layabouts! There’s work to be done!” The crew disperses, returning to their duties as the longboat continues its journey.
Eronguides the boat with a steady hand, weaving it carefully between rocky outcroppings that rise above the water like jagged teeth. The air grows warmer as they near land, and the sound of waves gently lapping against the rocks is soon joined by the burbling of a small river draining into the sea. They find a suitable spot to land—a narrow spit of sand nestled between the rocks. Pulling the boat ashore, they secure it on the bank and disembark to take in their surroundings.
Above them, the promontory rises steeply, its slopes a verdant tangle of semi-tropical trees, flowering plants in vivid hues, and tall grasses that sway gently in the breeze. The air is fragrant with the scent of salt and blossoms, and insects buzz in the undergrowth. The river nearby is sluggish but clear, its surface occasionally rippled by darting fish or the shadow of a bird overhead.
The party’s watchful eyes scan the embankment, and it isn’t long before they realize their arrival has been noticed. From higher up the slope, movement catches their attention as three lizardfolk emerge from the foliage. These are lean, sinewy creatures, their scales blending into the greens and browns of the landscape. They carry crude but jagged spears and wear sparse clothing made of leather and reeds, designed to camouflage them in the wild terrain.
Behind them steps another figure, larger and more imposing. This lizardfolk wears a vibrant headdress adorned with feathers from tropical birds, the colors bright against his green scales. Blue lines of paint mark his face in bold, sweeping patterns that accentuate his fierce, reptilian features. His demeanor is authoritative.
The larger lizardfolk raises a clawed hand, hailing them in broken Common. “You! Who are? Why you come here?” His deep, gravelly voice cuts through the warm air, his words halting but intelligible. His yellow eyes narrow as he continues, “Your big canoe... it known to us. But we hear... it stolen from trader-men.”
He steps closer to the edge of the embankment, his painted face unreadable. “You come... to bring weapons, promised to us? Speak quick.” His tone is not overtly hostile, but there is an unmistakable urgency. The lizardfolk spearmen remain still but alert, their hands gripping their spears tightly, seemingly ready to act if they receive the word.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
"Greetings..."The blue-haired half-elf calls out with a graceful bow to the Lizardfolk. She knew nothing about their customs but she hoped to make a good impression, stepping forward while holding out her arms in a peaceful fashion, showing she carried no arms. "...we come to talk. You are right. We are not trader-men. We want to talk about your enemy. I think your enemy might be our enemy. If so we can perhaps help each other. Possibly with weapons. But first we need to know who your enemy is?" Arlynn explains, trying to use short sentences to make communication easier. She hoped the answer would not be Saltmarsh of course, but somehow she doubted that. At the same time she had no idea who this enemy might be, but whoever it was it seemed urgent for the Lizardfolk to have their weapons, suggesting they expected an attack soon.
Persuasion: 23 Another roll if help action is somehow provided: 24 Arlynn also uses the Detect Thoughts ability to dsicreetly scan the Lizardfolk's minds.
Arlynn’swords carry on the sea breeze. Her respectful bow and deliberate tone cut through the tension, and even though the lizardfolk spearmen glance at one another with suspicion, the head-dressed one's body language softens just slightly. Arlynn’s plea to talk of a shared enemy seems to resonate with him, and his mind races, evaluating these unexpected visitors.
Arlynn:
Checking the surface thoughts of the spearmen... they are agitated and anxious. All three are eager to push these strangers back into the sea rather than listen to their mushy words.
The larger lizardfolk is different. Almost immediately, Arlynn can tell he is evaluating her and her companions. He is wondering if they could be allies against someone or something he thinks of as the 'King of Blood and Bone.'
The larger lizardfolk raises one clawed hand, a signal to the others. They glance at him, then relax, holding their position. “You speak wise, soft-skin,” he hisses, his broken Common laden with guttural growls. He steps forward slowly. “We do not trust. But... perhaps you can be... useful.”
He gestures with his staff toward Arlynnand the others, then growls, “You will swear. No harm to our people. On pain of death.” Behind him, the spearmen step forward menacingly, their long spears catching the faint gleam of sunlight through the canopy.
"I am Usk. Swear peace, and come with me. Usk does not speak for tribes. Usk will not speak of enemy...". He hisses and spits on the ground, then his golden eyes narrow as he waits for their response.
The spearmen grunt and snarl softly.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
"I am Arlynn, and I swear not to harm your people Usk."The blue-haired half-elf states with a firm but respectful tone. "I am ready to follow in peace and talk about an alliance."
She then glances back at her companions, each of them briefly hearing her voice in their head. "Keep calm and follow my lead please, the enemy is not Saltmarsh but the King of Blood and Bone."
Fane quickly scans the meeting place with the lizardfolk through her familiars eye's, perched up on a tree limb.
She remains calm and non threatening when they appear. Arlynn's words seem to diffuse any confrontation and get's them an invitation to talk more.
When ask to come to the village and not harm them, Fane will respond "of course," and will follow them, with an occasional glance through Leo's eyes as they go.
[She is still running comprehend languages and will listen to see if there is any other conversations between them as they walk.]
Eron follows the lizardfolk guides as they led the way to their leader. Eron has heard many tales of the lizardfolk blending into the Hool marsh invisible to all but the keenest eyes. He doesn't recall many tales of them initiating violence but also none where they back down once engaged... He is however ready to evaluate their leader with a studied interest in how they move and interact with one another (hunter's sense). For now he keeps his eyes and ears open noting their path lest they need to retrace their route.
Lyrric paused as the oath was demanded, the halfling's small frame dwarfed by the imposing lizardfolk.
"A good soul needs no binding words, and an ill one would not honor them anyway."
The cleric placed a hand over his heart. "I will walk in peace, as I hope you do. Let our words, not our weapons, be the tools we wield today."
Lyyric agrees in principle, but will swear no oath. He is not opposed to oaths per se, but as a cleric has already pledged himself to uphold a different set of ideals ... and Lyrric does not want to enter into promises that may conflict with one another.
He is half hoping his not-quite-a-refusal will get lost in translation, but is willing to use guile to talk circles around these savages if needed.
Usk’s golden eyes glint sharply as he listens to each of the strangers respond to his request for an oath. His clawed fingers tighten on the haft of his staff, the vibrant feathers of his headdress swaying slightly with the breeze. When Arlynnresponds, her words firm and straightforward, Usk dips his head in a faint nod of acknowledgment.
But when the others give more measured, less committal responses - Fanebrief; Eron suggesting he is prepared to meet aggression with aggression; Lyrricseeming to question the vary nature of oaths - his painted face tilts downward and his eyes narrow. The blue lines across his snout seem to exaggerate the stern set of his features as he steps forward, lowering his voice to a low, guttural hiss.
“You asssk much, to speak to the chiefs, and it is not yet known if you have use,” he growls, his gaze flicking between the hesitant speakers. “Usk is not blind to the danger you bring. I take risssk by bringing you to my people.”
He points the tip of his staff at each of the less-committal adventurers in turn, his voice rising slightly as he continues, “If you harm any of my kin—any—you will face me. Usk will take your man-hearts himself.”
The spearmen behind him grunt in approval, their spears lowering slightly in a show of unity with the shaman. For a long moment, Usk holds their gaze, his slit-pupiled eyes unblinking, before stepping back and straightening.
“Follow. And do not make Usk regret this.”
He turns, leading the group up the embankment toward the settlement, his staff tapping against the ground as the spearmen fan out to watch the strangers closely.
Arlynn:
As the minute expires on your detect thoughts, you gather that Usk is hopeful that your party will take his warning seriously.
Meanwhile, the spearmen are all pleased that Usk was so hard on the strangers.
Up the embankment, the lizardfolk lead you to a sturdy wooden door built into a wall of wood and stone. From a distance, the perimeter wall of this lair was nearly imperceptible, blending into the trees. Up close, however, you can see that a sprawling compound is concealed here on this raised bit of land, overlooking marsh and sea.
Entry is granted, and despite skeptical glances from another 4 guards inside the gate, you are lead inside.
The winding hall echoes with the steady tap of Usk’s staff as he leads the party through the dimly lit corridors of the lizardfolk lair. Some corridors are roofed, others open to the air and canopy above. The air smells faintly of damp stone, burnt torches, and the faint musk of reptilian inhabitants. Shadows dance along the walls as the occasional torch flickers in its iron bracket. Beyond the light, the corridors remain cloaked in shadow, hinting at the vastness of the colony. This is no simple meeting spot or tradepost - this is a fortified lizardfolk settlement.
The lizardfolk warriors escorting the party remain close, their bone and bronze weapons at the ready. Though their faces are unreadable, they remain nervous; every glance and shift suggests their unease. The party is guided through a maze of tunnels, past distant murmurs and the occasional curious peek from a commoner before they quickly withdraw out of sight.
At last, the hall opens into a grand chamber, its stone walls and ceiling rising higher than any space they’ve yet seen. Two rows of carved stone pillars divide the room, their surfaces etched with images of lizards and serpents locked in ancient dances of battle and dominion. Between the pillars, two small lizardfolk hatchlings play, oblivious to the strangers in their midst.
At the far end of the chamber stands a wooden throne, mounted on a low stone dais. Its surface is carved with intricate reptilian designs, and faint glimmers of light from inset gemstones twinkle in the torchlight. The walls are adorned with grim trophies:
A monstrous, segmented head with hanging mandibles.
The broad, heavy skull of a hippo, its teeth yellowed and cracked.
A shark’s gaping maw, rows of jagged teeth gleaming.
The stretched, desiccated head of an enormous frog.
Near the throne, lizardfolk leaders are deep in discussion, their guttural, hissing voices in their strange tongue reverberating in the space. Two large, powerful-looking lizardfolk wear ceremonial garb: one in robes adorned with shark teeth and shells, the other draped in bird feathers and woven cords. Each wields a staff marked with symbols of authority. They are flanked by more spearmen.
Fane:
You make out only one of them speaking:
"... It is urgent that we bring the koalinth into our alliance. We need heavy troops, more than... what - who is this?"
Their conversation halts abruptly as Usk steps forward with the party in tow. The guards flanking the dais tighten their grips on their spears, their eyes narrowing at the strangers. The chiefs fix their gazes on Usk, their slit pupils sharp and questioning. More words are hissed back and forth between them all.
Fane:
One of the chiefs - the one in shells - growls, “Usk, what is the meaning of this? Why do you bring outsiders into our halls?”
The other adds with a hiss, “You risk exposing our weaknesses. Speak carefully, shaman.”
Usk bows his head slightly, his tone respectful but firm. “Mighty chiefs, these are the ones Vyth spoke of—the takers of the steel-trader’s ship. They come with questions about the Enemy. They believe our Enemy may be theirs. I see value in hearing them out. Perhaps they can aid us in the wars to come.”
The chiefs glance at each other, their expressions unreadable but their tails flicking behind them in agitation. One taps their staff on the stone dais, summoning more guards to form a semi-circle behind the party. A tense silence fills the air as the chiefs weigh Usk’s words, the guards’ presence making it clear that any misstep could lead to violence.
The chief in feathers, his garb rustling softly, casts a wary glance at the party and then steps back, tapping his staff lightly against the stone dais. With a slow nod, he defers to the other leader, his posture making it clear that the chief in shells holds the authority to speak on their behalf.
The other chief straightens, seeming to grow almost a foot taller, his ceremonial robes of shark teeth and shells clinking faintly as he moves. Behind his head, an orange crest inflates, seeming to crown him. His gaze is sharp and appraising, his posture commanding without being necessarily hostile. When he speaks, his voice is deep and resonant, his Common surprisingly clear and articulate.
“You have come unto us at an inopportune time,” he begins, his tone carrying the weight of measured authority. “Yet Usk tells us you are the ones who took the ship of our steel-traders.” His yellow eyes narrow, glinting in the torchlight. “If that is true, then you owe us a debt, for the delivery of weapons we sorely need was delayed by your actions.”
He steps down from the dais, walking slowly toward the party, his clawed feet clicking faintly on the stone floor. “So I ask you plainly: Do you come bearing those weapons? Are they being rowed ashore as we speak by more soft-skins?”
The chief stops a short distance from the party, his piercing gaze sweeping over them, pausing momentarily on each individual as if weighing their worth. His tone turns slightly sharper. “We do not have the luxury of games or idle discourse. Speak quickly, for the time to act grows short.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The blue-haired half-elf follows along to the Lizardfolk settlement, staying calm and respectful, hoping her companions would do the same in this delicate mission, while also keeping her eyes open for any threats, letting her invisible familiar watch her back and report on anything suspicious activities.
As the team is brought before the chieftains, Arlynn would listen then take a step forward, bowing respectfully to the chieftains in turn before speaking firmly but politely. "The weapons are not brought. The traders you dealt with were criminals in our society and have met with justice for their crimes. You could not know this and we recognize that you dealt with them in good faith. To be clear, we are here as representatives of the nearby settlement of Saltmarsh. Their leaders fear that you were gathering weapons to attack them but we believe this not the case. We come here hoping to confirm that your enemy is not Saltmarsh. It might even be that your enemy is also the enemy of Saltmarsh in which case we might be able to convince Saltmarsh to form an alliance with you and your people. If an alliance is agreed upon then negotiations about the weapons can start. We do not question your need for these weapons is urgent and we want to help if we can but the decision about the weapons is unfortunately out of our hands."
[Fane will leave Leo outside in a tree, looking over the settlement where she is safe. I'd guess >100 feet away, so no communication right now.]
Seeing the gathering of lizardfolk, Fane thinks having to give an oath of no harm seemed a bit unnecessary, as her and her friends are clearly outnumbered.
She nods along as Arlynn speaks, to help enforce that they stand as one, waiting to see how they respond.
She will glance around the halls, trying to see if she can observe any of these 'weaknesses' that were mentioned. Perception: 21
She will also think and try to recall what a Koalinth maybe. History?: 23
The party decides to bide their time, allowing any lizardfolk ashore to spot the Lady Saradie and make note of her presence before they take the longboat to land. With a plan to wait for about an hour, the crew settles into their routine, and Tinker sets to work preparing lunch.
As the midday sun warms the deck, the tantalizing aroma of fish stew drifts up from the galley. When the meal is ready, Tinker calls everyone to gather, proudly serving a rich, savory stew made from salted cod, potatoes, onions, and herbs, with just a hint of smoked paprika for warmth. Freshly baked ship’s biscuits accompany the stew, soft and slightly sweetened with a splash of rum, alongside tangy pickled vegetables and a small offering of citrus wedges to stave off scurvy. For those inclined, cubes of hard cheese provide a salty snack.
The crew eats in clusters around the deck, the clatter of bowls and low murmur of conversation mixing with the sound of waves lapping against the hull. Tinker bustles between groups, checking that everyone has their fill and cracking a joke or two to keep the mood light. “Nothing too heavy for lunch... I need to keep you light on your feet in case you need to come a'running back to the ship!” he quips, drawing a round of chuckles. With bellies full and spirits buoyed by the hearty meal, the crew readies themselves for what lies ahead.
Jory has continued to watch the shoreline, but hasn't spotted any thing. Taking Captain Eron aside, he mentions, "It would be wise to make the investment in a spyglass, Captain. They can be bitterly expensive, but there is only so much they naked eye can do without one."
[Do you go ashore in the longboat? Do you take any members of the crew with you in the landing party? What instructions do you leave for those who remain behind?]
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
The blue-haired half-elf thoroughly enjoys the tasty lunch served and the good mood surrounding it. On her voyage across the Azure sea the meals had been quite plain and bland compared to what Tinker just had served up and the time ahead on the Saradie immediately seemed even more promising.
As the hour passes without any sign of the Lizardfolk, Arlynn sends the invisible Zzplorff hovering ahead into them marsh, scouting for Lizardfolk, other potantial threats and a possible route inland to the Lizardfolk settlement.
Zzplorff
Stealth: 18
Perception: 5
Eron nods in agreement with Jory, “That’s true a spyglass would be a good investment. Me Fane Arlynn and Lyrric are gonna take to shore for this assignment. I want you an the rest of the crew to hold tight for 24 hours. If trouble arises leave and circle back here within that time. If anything changes we’ll try communicating with Leo. Worst case head back to Saltmarsh. Okay Jory you’re in charge keep em safe, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Fane would spend the time on the ship getting to know the crew, with an occasional check through Leo's eyes, as she circled the ship. She would use her Shape Water to mimic the scene of the jumping fish to entertain.
She would tell them about Oceanus, in case any Merfolk showed up, during lunch, as she ate the delicious soup.
When the time comes to head out, she'll ritual cast Comprehend Languages in case it comes in handy with anyone they meet.
Once lunch is complete, Eron thanks Tinker, “I’m certain we’ve got the best cook. Tinker that was wonderful.
Everyone listen up, I know some species can hold their breathe and swim like fish, I’m not sure about Lizardfolk, but be vigilant obey Jory in my absence. I pray things go well and we’ll be back in a timely fashion, it is an honor to be your Captain, alright let’s disembark.”
Lyrric was seated cross-legged on a barrel and polished off his second helping of stew, looked up with mock indignation at Tinker's joke bout eating a light lunch.
"Tinker, I’m a halfling ... we're always light on our feet. I could eat twice this, sneak around the lot of you, and still have room for more biscuits!" He grinned and waved his spoon for emphasis.
Lyrric hopped down from the barrel, dusted some crumbs off his coat and grabbed his gear.
"Right," Lyrric said, adjusting his hat. "Let’s see if these lizardfolk are in a talking mood today."
A thought crossed his mind just then. "We can talk to them ... right?"
"Well, we've only briefly encountered one of them so far, but although he wasn't in the best of moods when he left he definitely had a smattering of the common tongue." The blue-haired half-elf says with a small smile as she readies herself to get ashore.
Before they depart, Fane will give Jory a vial. "A healing potion, hand brewed by your ship's wizard" she says with a smile, "for emergencies, in case anything happens to the crew while we are gone."
Eron will use his marine training to guide the boat safely to shore once their he will secure it the best he can. After that he will search for signs of lizardfolk in the area.
Survival 23
Jory takes the potion from Fane, looking at is with a hint of uncertainty, but he thanks her all the same.
The crew of the Lady Saradie gathers along the rails as the longboat is lowered into the water, their voices a mix of encouragement and idle chatter as the adventurers climb aboard and begin to row toward shore. For a time, the crew leans on the railing, watching the small boat cut through the calm blue waters toward the distant spit of sand. After a few moments, however, Jory’s gruff voice breaks through the reverie. “Quit gawking, you layabouts! There’s work to be done!” The crew disperses, returning to their duties as the longboat continues its journey.
Eron guides the boat with a steady hand, weaving it carefully between rocky outcroppings that rise above the water like jagged teeth. The air grows warmer as they near land, and the sound of waves gently lapping against the rocks is soon joined by the burbling of a small river draining into the sea. They find a suitable spot to land—a narrow spit of sand nestled between the rocks. Pulling the boat ashore, they secure it on the bank and disembark to take in their surroundings.
Above them, the promontory rises steeply, its slopes a verdant tangle of semi-tropical trees, flowering plants in vivid hues, and tall grasses that sway gently in the breeze. The air is fragrant with the scent of salt and blossoms, and insects buzz in the undergrowth. The river nearby is sluggish but clear, its surface occasionally rippled by darting fish or the shadow of a bird overhead.
The party’s watchful eyes scan the embankment, and it isn’t long before they realize their arrival has been noticed. From higher up the slope, movement catches their attention as three lizardfolk emerge from the foliage. These are lean, sinewy creatures, their scales blending into the greens and browns of the landscape. They carry crude but jagged spears and wear sparse clothing made of leather and reeds, designed to camouflage them in the wild terrain.
Behind them steps another figure, larger and more imposing. This lizardfolk wears a vibrant headdress adorned with feathers from tropical birds, the colors bright against his green scales. Blue lines of paint mark his face in bold, sweeping patterns that accentuate his fierce, reptilian features. His demeanor is authoritative.
The larger lizardfolk raises a clawed hand, hailing them in broken Common. “You! Who are? Why you come here?” His deep, gravelly voice cuts through the warm air, his words halting but intelligible. His yellow eyes narrow as he continues, “Your big canoe... it known to us. But we hear... it stolen from trader-men.”
He steps closer to the edge of the embankment, his painted face unreadable. “You come... to bring weapons, promised to us? Speak quick.” His tone is not overtly hostile, but there is an unmistakable urgency. The lizardfolk spearmen remain still but alert, their hands gripping their spears tightly, seemingly ready to act if they receive the word.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
"Greetings..." The blue-haired half-elf calls out with a graceful bow to the Lizardfolk. She knew nothing about their customs but she hoped to make a good impression, stepping forward while holding out her arms in a peaceful fashion, showing she carried no arms. "...we come to talk. You are right. We are not trader-men. We want to talk about your enemy. I think your enemy might be our enemy. If so we can perhaps help each other. Possibly with weapons. But first we need to know who your enemy is?" Arlynn explains, trying to use short sentences to make communication easier. She hoped the answer would not be Saltmarsh of course, but somehow she doubted that. At the same time she had no idea who this enemy might be, but whoever it was it seemed urgent for the Lizardfolk to have their weapons, suggesting they expected an attack soon.
Persuasion: 23 Another roll if help action is somehow provided: 24
Arlynn also uses the Detect Thoughts ability to dsicreetly scan the Lizardfolk's minds.
Arlynn’s words carry on the sea breeze. Her respectful bow and deliberate tone cut through the tension, and even though the lizardfolk spearmen glance at one another with suspicion, the head-dressed one's body language softens just slightly. Arlynn’s plea to talk of a shared enemy seems to resonate with him, and his mind races, evaluating these unexpected visitors.
Arlynn:
Checking the surface thoughts of the spearmen... they are agitated and anxious. All three are eager to push these strangers back into the sea rather than listen to their mushy words.
The larger lizardfolk is different. Almost immediately, Arlynn can tell he is evaluating her and her companions. He is wondering if they could be allies against someone or something he thinks of as the 'King of Blood and Bone.'
The larger lizardfolk raises one clawed hand, a signal to the others. They glance at him, then relax, holding their position. “You speak wise, soft-skin,” he hisses, his broken Common laden with guttural growls. He steps forward slowly. “We do not trust. But... perhaps you can be... useful.”
He gestures with his staff toward Arlynn and the others, then growls, “You will swear. No harm to our people. On pain of death.” Behind him, the spearmen step forward menacingly, their long spears catching the faint gleam of sunlight through the canopy.
"I am Usk. Swear peace, and come with me. Usk does not speak for tribes. Usk will not speak of enemy...". He hisses and spits on the ground, then his golden eyes narrow as he waits for their response.
The spearmen grunt and snarl softly.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Eron nods to Usk, “I will not kill lizardfolk unless they try to kill us, I promise.”
"I am Arlynn, and I swear not to harm your people Usk." The blue-haired half-elf states with a firm but respectful tone. "I am ready to follow in peace and talk about an alliance."
She then glances back at her companions, each of them briefly hearing her voice in their head. "Keep calm and follow my lead please, the enemy is not Saltmarsh but the King of Blood and Bone."
Fane quickly scans the meeting place with the lizardfolk through her familiars eye's, perched up on a tree limb.
She remains calm and non threatening when they appear. Arlynn's words seem to diffuse any confrontation and get's them an invitation to talk more.
When ask to come to the village and not harm them, Fane will respond "of course," and will follow them, with an occasional glance through Leo's eyes as they go.
[She is still running comprehend languages and will listen to see if there is any other conversations between them as they walk.]
Eron follows the lizardfolk guides as they led the way to their leader. Eron has heard many tales of the lizardfolk blending into the Hool marsh invisible to all but the keenest eyes. He doesn't recall many tales of them initiating violence but also none where they back down once engaged... He is however ready to evaluate their leader with a studied interest in how they move and interact with one another (hunter's sense). For now he keeps his eyes and ears open noting their path lest they need to retrace their route.
Lyrric paused as the oath was demanded, the halfling's small frame dwarfed by the imposing lizardfolk.
"A good soul needs no binding words, and an ill one would not honor them anyway."
The cleric placed a hand over his heart. "I will walk in peace, as I hope you do. Let our words, not our weapons, be the tools we wield today."
Lyyric agrees in principle, but will swear no oath. He is not opposed to oaths per se, but as a cleric has already pledged himself to uphold a different set of ideals ... and Lyrric does not want to enter into promises that may conflict with one another.
He is half hoping his not-quite-a-refusal will get lost in translation, but is willing to use guile to talk circles around these savages if needed.
Usk’s golden eyes glint sharply as he listens to each of the strangers respond to his request for an oath. His clawed fingers tighten on the haft of his staff, the vibrant feathers of his headdress swaying slightly with the breeze. When Arlynn responds, her words firm and straightforward, Usk dips his head in a faint nod of acknowledgment.
But when the others give more measured, less committal responses - Fane brief; Eron suggesting he is prepared to meet aggression with aggression; Lyrric seeming to question the vary nature of oaths - his painted face tilts downward and his eyes narrow. The blue lines across his snout seem to exaggerate the stern set of his features as he steps forward, lowering his voice to a low, guttural hiss.
“You asssk much, to speak to the chiefs, and it is not yet known if you have use,” he growls, his gaze flicking between the hesitant speakers. “Usk is not blind to the danger you bring. I take risssk by bringing you to my people.”
He points the tip of his staff at each of the less-committal adventurers in turn, his voice rising slightly as he continues, “If you harm any of my kin—any—you will face me. Usk will take your man-hearts himself.”
The spearmen behind him grunt in approval, their spears lowering slightly in a show of unity with the shaman. For a long moment, Usk holds their gaze, his slit-pupiled eyes unblinking, before stepping back and straightening.
“Follow. And do not make Usk regret this.”
He turns, leading the group up the embankment toward the settlement, his staff tapping against the ground as the spearmen fan out to watch the strangers closely.
Arlynn:
As the minute expires on your detect thoughts, you gather that Usk is hopeful that your party will take his warning seriously.
Meanwhile, the spearmen are all pleased that Usk was so hard on the strangers.
Up the embankment, the lizardfolk lead you to a sturdy wooden door built into a wall of wood and stone. From a distance, the perimeter wall of this lair was nearly imperceptible, blending into the trees. Up close, however, you can see that a sprawling compound is concealed here on this raised bit of land, overlooking marsh and sea.
Entry is granted, and despite skeptical glances from another 4 guards inside the gate, you are lead inside.
The winding hall echoes with the steady tap of Usk’s staff as he leads the party through the dimly lit corridors of the lizardfolk lair. Some corridors are roofed, others open to the air and canopy above. The air smells faintly of damp stone, burnt torches, and the faint musk of reptilian inhabitants. Shadows dance along the walls as the occasional torch flickers in its iron bracket. Beyond the light, the corridors remain cloaked in shadow, hinting at the vastness of the colony. This is no simple meeting spot or tradepost - this is a fortified lizardfolk settlement.
The lizardfolk warriors escorting the party remain close, their bone and bronze weapons at the ready. Though their faces are unreadable, they remain nervous; every glance and shift suggests their unease. The party is guided through a maze of tunnels, past distant murmurs and the occasional curious peek from a commoner before they quickly withdraw out of sight.
At last, the hall opens into a grand chamber, its stone walls and ceiling rising higher than any space they’ve yet seen. Two rows of carved stone pillars divide the room, their surfaces etched with images of lizards and serpents locked in ancient dances of battle and dominion. Between the pillars, two small lizardfolk hatchlings play, oblivious to the strangers in their midst.
At the far end of the chamber stands a wooden throne, mounted on a low stone dais. Its surface is carved with intricate reptilian designs, and faint glimmers of light from inset gemstones twinkle in the torchlight. The walls are adorned with grim trophies:
Near the throne, lizardfolk leaders are deep in discussion, their guttural, hissing voices in their strange tongue reverberating in the space. Two large, powerful-looking lizardfolk wear ceremonial garb: one in robes adorned with shark teeth and shells, the other draped in bird feathers and woven cords. Each wields a staff marked with symbols of authority. They are flanked by more spearmen.
Fane:
You make out only one of them speaking:
"... It is urgent that we bring the koalinth into our alliance. We need heavy troops, more than... what - who is this?"
Their conversation halts abruptly as Usk steps forward with the party in tow. The guards flanking the dais tighten their grips on their spears, their eyes narrowing at the strangers. The chiefs fix their gazes on Usk, their slit pupils sharp and questioning. More words are hissed back and forth between them all.
Fane:
One of the chiefs - the one in shells - growls, “Usk, what is the meaning of this? Why do you bring outsiders into our halls?”
The other adds with a hiss, “You risk exposing our weaknesses. Speak carefully, shaman.”
Usk bows his head slightly, his tone respectful but firm. “Mighty chiefs, these are the ones Vyth spoke of—the takers of the steel-trader’s ship. They come with questions about the Enemy. They believe our Enemy may be theirs. I see value in hearing them out. Perhaps they can aid us in the wars to come.”
The chiefs glance at each other, their expressions unreadable but their tails flicking behind them in agitation. One taps their staff on the stone dais, summoning more guards to form a semi-circle behind the party. A tense silence fills the air as the chiefs weigh Usk’s words, the guards’ presence making it clear that any misstep could lead to violence.
The chief in feathers, his garb rustling softly, casts a wary glance at the party and then steps back, tapping his staff lightly against the stone dais. With a slow nod, he defers to the other leader, his posture making it clear that the chief in shells holds the authority to speak on their behalf.
The other chief straightens, seeming to grow almost a foot taller, his ceremonial robes of shark teeth and shells clinking faintly as he moves. Behind his head, an orange crest inflates, seeming to crown him. His gaze is sharp and appraising, his posture commanding without being necessarily hostile. When he speaks, his voice is deep and resonant, his Common surprisingly clear and articulate.
“You have come unto us at an inopportune time,” he begins, his tone carrying the weight of measured authority. “Yet Usk tells us you are the ones who took the ship of our steel-traders.” His yellow eyes narrow, glinting in the torchlight. “If that is true, then you owe us a debt, for the delivery of weapons we sorely need was delayed by your actions.”
He steps down from the dais, walking slowly toward the party, his clawed feet clicking faintly on the stone floor. “So I ask you plainly: Do you come bearing those weapons? Are they being rowed ashore as we speak by more soft-skins?”
The chief stops a short distance from the party, his piercing gaze sweeping over them, pausing momentarily on each individual as if weighing their worth. His tone turns slightly sharper. “We do not have the luxury of games or idle discourse. Speak quickly, for the time to act grows short.”
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
The blue-haired half-elf follows along to the Lizardfolk settlement, staying calm and respectful, hoping her companions would do the same in this delicate mission, while also keeping her eyes open for any threats, letting her invisible familiar watch her back and report on anything suspicious activities.
As the team is brought before the chieftains, Arlynn would listen then take a step forward, bowing respectfully to the chieftains in turn before speaking firmly but politely. "The weapons are not brought. The traders you dealt with were criminals in our society and have met with justice for their crimes. You could not know this and we recognize that you dealt with them in good faith. To be clear, we are here as representatives of the nearby settlement of Saltmarsh. Their leaders fear that you were gathering weapons to attack them but we believe this not the case. We come here hoping to confirm that your enemy is not Saltmarsh. It might even be that your enemy is also the enemy of Saltmarsh in which case we might be able to convince Saltmarsh to form an alliance with you and your people. If an alliance is agreed upon then negotiations about the weapons can start. We do not question your need for these weapons is urgent and we want to help if we can but the decision about the weapons is unfortunately out of our hands."
Inspired Persuasion to enter negotiations: 15
[Fane will leave Leo outside in a tree, looking over the settlement where she is safe. I'd guess >100 feet away, so no communication right now.]
Seeing the gathering of lizardfolk, Fane thinks having to give an oath of no harm seemed a bit unnecessary, as her and her friends are clearly outnumbered.
She nods along as Arlynn speaks, to help enforce that they stand as one, waiting to see how they respond.
She will glance around the halls, trying to see if she can observe any of these 'weaknesses' that were mentioned. Perception: 21
She will also think and try to recall what a Koalinth maybe. History?: 23