"My friend here is correct" she says, nodding towards Arlynn. "Not only did we get the staff as you asked and defeat their greatest hero, when we left, they were engaged with not one, but two Hydras. I would guess that the two Hydra's did a good bit of damage to those we left standing."

I will attempt to help her with the persuasion/deception.

The lizardfolk sat in stunned silence for a long moment, their reptilian faces unreadable, their tails flicking idly as they processed what they had just heard.  The coastal chief's eyes narrowed, his clawed fingers tightening around the staff as if testing its weight, as though the very fact that it now lay in his grasp confirmed the truth of the words spoken.

The marsh chief let out a slow, rattling exhale, his gaze flicking between Arlynn and Fane, and even to Lyrric - who gives a somber thumbs-up - searching for any sign of deceit.  He finds none—or at least, none that he cand discern.  He grunts, low and thoughtful, his heavy brow furrowing.

"Two hydras?" The shaman's tongue flicked out in disbelief, tasting the air, his grip tightening on his hornet-topped staff.  "A mighty omen, if ever there was one…" His voice might carry a note of skepticism, but he does not outright refute the claim.  The weight of Arlynn's words, spoken with such confidence, had settled deeply upon them all.

A ripple of murmured discussion passed through the gathered warriors.  Some exchanged glances, others let out deep, guttural croaks of approval, while a few looked on quizzically while their brethren translated the Common tongue for them.

At last, the coastal chief moved back to a raised dais, perching on top and resting on his elbows and his knees.  His golden eyes, intelligent and calculating, swept over the party. "Their king surrendered his staff… their greatest warrior fell… and they were set upon by hydras."  He let the words hang in the air before nodding, satisfied.  "Humbled indeed.  They will not march against us for some time, if ever."

The marsh chief crossed his arms, his gaze flicking toward the party with something that was not quite trust - not yet- but no longer outright suspicion.  "It would have been better if more of them had been slain.  But humiliation... disgrace... these things wound in ways steel cannot.  You have done what we asked."

The shaman, still gripping his staff tightly, tilted his head, his throat rumbling as he regarded Fane and Arlynn with pride.  "As I foretold... these soft skins are useful."

The coastal chief straightened and tapped the bullywug staff against the wooden floor, silencing the lingering murmurs of the assembled lizardfolk.

"You have proven yourselves... for now.  But know this—our enemies are many, and our trials are not yet done.  There is still much work to be done if we are to truly consider you allies."

He leaned forward slightly, his scaled lips curling back to show fangs in something resembling a smile—though whether it was meant to be friendly or merely amused was unclear.

"Tell me, outsiders… are you so sure you wish to dig into these mysteries?  What do you know of our foe?  Of the King of Blood and Bone?"

"Since you with all your might respect the power of this foe then we know that we too should respect the threat of the King of Blood and Bone. That said I'm afraid we haven't heard about the King of Blood and Bone until today. There more you will share about this king the better we will be able to deal with this threat though, possibly even dethroning him." The blue-haired half-elf says with a polite but confident tone.

Persuasion if relevant: 13 Another roll if help action is provided: 18

"We are fully committed to the cause. We will do all we can to keep our allies, all of our allies" she says looking around at the gathered lizardfolk, "safe, and prosperous" she adds.

[Fane will continue to follow up after Arlynn (or Eron) speak, hoping to help support their words.]

The lizardfolk chiefs exchange glances, their expressions grim.  It is the marsh chief who speaks first, his voice slow and deliberate, heavy with the weight of what he has seen.

"A new king has risen in the west," he says, his yellow eyes darkening.  "A king who takes the name Sakatha.  It is an old name, one that lingers in the bones of our people, whispered in legendary tales of conquest and war."

The coastal chief leans forward, his claws tapping against the dais where he rests.  "Whether he is truly the Sakatha of old, or a warlord who fancies himself his heir, it does not matter.  He is powerful.  He is ruthless.  And he is gathering an army unlike any seen in the Hool Marshes for generations."

The shaman lets out a slow, rattling breath, gripping his staff tightly.  "He calls to all of our kind, demanding fealty.  Many tribes have bent the knee, fearful of his wrath.  Those who refuse... are destroyed.  Not just the warriors.  The elders, the hunters, the clutchlings in their eggs—none are spared."  His throat rumbles with quiet anger... then gestures with his staff toward the marsh chief.  "Our people were among those who would not kneel.  But neither could we hope to stand against the King of Blood and Bone.  We fled before the slaughter could reach us.  Others were not so fortunate."

The marsh chief lets out a low hiss, his tail flicking.  "My good cousin here has granted my tribe sanctuary; granted us a place to train and build our strength for the war to come." 

The coastal chief rises again, placing a hand on the other's shoulder.  "And we will stand together against this threat.  We will show this Sakatha and his craven kneelers what cold-blooded courage looks like."

The shaman looks back to Arlynn.  "You should know, it is not just lizardfolk who serve him.  There are things in the swamps that move at his command—creatures of shadow, of bone and rotting flesh.  Humans, too—bandits, mercenaries, outcasts—have taken up his banners, raiding the western trade roads, sowing fear beyond the marsh."  He pulls forth and unrolls a sheet of leather... the back of a great softshell turtle, upon which is inked a map of the Hool Marshes.  Looking upon it, Eron sees much that he recognizes, and much that he does not.  This map shows areas far beyond where he has gone on even his deepest rangings.  The areas where the shaman points, where this army is gathering, is to the distant west, near the Koeish border with the lands of the Yeomanry.

The coastal chief's expression hardens.  "Worst of all, Aulicus has returned."  The name is spoken with unmistakable bitterness, and a few of the gathered lizardfolk warriors shift uneasily, some making primitive handsigns as if warding off a fell spirit.  "The Prophet of the Hool, the great black wyrm, long thought to have vanished, has emerged from his slumber.  He flies as Sakatha’s herald, forcing submission upon those who waver.  Where he lands, tribes bow—or they melt."

There is silence for a moment, save for the distant drip of moisture from the wooden beams above.  The chiefs watch the party carefully, measuring their reaction.

The coastal chief finally speaks again.  "This is the enemy we face.  This is why we prepare for war.  Why we purchase weapons of steel.  Why we court the koalinth and entertain your curiosity. This is why we do not waste warriors fighting the bullywugs—we will need every blade, every claw, every tooth when Sakatha’s reach extends to us."

The blue-haired half-elf listens attentively before speaking in a grim and concerned tone. "This Sakatha must be powerful indeed if he has the loyalty of a black wyrm. You are all brave to stand against them. If we knew where to find them perhaps we could confront this Sakatha before his armies reach you here?" She suggests with a quite sincere tone. "We have the means to go where an army could not. We would fight for you and Saltmarsh and all those who stand against tyrants and warlords." She says, glancing over at her companions and hoping they agreed.

“I absolutely agree.  My companions are absolutely correct.  I will voice these concerns to the council at Saltmarsh and personally see that preparations are underway to provide the weapons needed and what forces can be mustered to deal with such a terrible threat!”

Looking upon it, Eron sees much that he recognizes, and much that he does not.  This map shows areas far beyond where he has gone on even his deepest rangings.  The areas where the shaman points, where this army is gathering, is to the distant west, near the Koeish border with the lands of the Yeomanry.

“My personal area is here, I know of a few wardens of the Hool who should also be notified of such a threat.  Time is of the essence, my chiefs and elders how would you like to proceed?”

The coastal chief clicks his jaws together, signaling for silence before the party’s excitement can carry them away.  His eyes, dark and knowing, settle on each of them in turn.  “Your eagerness is... noted,” he rumbles.  “But do not mistake knowledge of the storm for readiness to face it.”

The marsh chief leans forward, his clawed fingers pressing against the wooden table.  “Sakatha is not to be underestimated.  He does not lead a rabble—he commands legions.  Lizardfolk, beasts, the dead themselves.  His forces are not just conquering lands; they consume them.”

The shaman raps his staff against the floor.  “You are strong, yes, but strength alone will not win this war.  You are not yet ready to stand before the King of Blood and Bone.” His golden eyes glint in the dim torchlight. “Not yet.”

The coastal chief gives a slow, deliberate nod.  “There is much work to be done.  Our forces must be trained.  Alliances must be forged.  And you... you must sharpen your blades, temper your magic, and steel your minds.  It would avail us little to make new allies, only to dash them against the foe uselessly.”  His tail thumps against the floor.  “When the time comes, we will all be ready.”

The marsh chief grunts. “Until then, there is more yet to do.”

The coastal chief folds his arms.  “You have proven yourselves with the bullywugs, but one task alone does not make allies.  We warned of a second service we require.”

The marsh chief flicks his tail.  “To the west, where the land meets the sea, stands an old human ruin. Bale Keep.” He spits the name like a curse. “It is a place abandoned long ago, yet now it shelters a new threat.”

The shaman steps forward, tapping his staff against the wooden floor.  “They are like you—adventurers, outsiders.  They came from foreign lands, and they brought war.”  His golden eyes narrow.  “They tested our strength, sending warriors against us.  We repelled them.  They have not dared return. Yet.”

The coastal chief tightens his grip on his spear.  “We will not wait for another strike.  These humans must learn that we are not prey.  We care not how you deal with them—fight them, speak with them, bring word to your human village, Saltmarsh.  What matters is that they do not trouble us again.”

He fixes the party with a steady gaze. “Do this, and we will know your commitment is true.  Do this, and we will welcome you and Saltmarsh into our alliance.”

The shaman inclines his head.  “What say you, then?  Will you see this final task done?”

" We did not mean to underestimate the enemy, we would continue to gather information and strength until ready to face Sakatha, but yes, we will go to Bale Keep and make sure the people there will not trouble you again." Arlynn says with a polite bow, again glancing to her companions to make usre they too agreed to this.

"It sounds like the entire region is at peril from this Sakatha, Saltmarsh included. An alliance between you and them is critical. We will go to Bale Keep and see what troubles are there, and then report back, hopefully finalizing the alliance" she agrees.

[How does the party want to approach Bale Keep?  Over land, or heading back to the jolly boat and back to the ship?]

[We have a ship, and a captain! I vote for ... ship]

By ship for sure.

As the party leaves the lizardfolk settlement, they are escorted by a few wary but respectful guards, who ensure their passage back to the jollyboat is uninterrupted.  The marsh hums with the sounds of croaking frogs and the distant splash of unseen creatures, but nothing troubles their journey.

When they reach the shore, they find their jollyboat right where they left it, untouched.   As they row back, the ship grows larger on the horizon, and before long, familiar figures appear along the railing.

Jory "Ironhand" Varnis is the first to spot them, his keen eyes narrowing before he bellows, "Boat returning!  All accounted for!" His gruff voice carries across the water, packed with the command that it was time for the crew to look lively.  The rest of the crew makes their way to the side, eager to hear what transpired.

As the jollyboat is secured and the party climbs aboard, Tovald wipes his flour-dusted hands on his apron and grins.  "So what's the good word?  Am I cookin' to celebrate, or to mourn, this evening?" His chuckle is cut short as Pip Steggins rushes up, practically bouncing on his heels.

"What happened?  Was there a fight?  Did ya have to kill a buncha lizardmen?  Or was it somethin' worse?  Did they have monsters?"

The young cabin boy’s wide-eyed excitement is met with a sharp cuff from Dannel Kreet, who shakes his head.   "Give 'em a moment to breathe, lad.  They look like they've had a time of it."

With the party safely aboard, Jory claps his metal hand against the railing.   "Right then.  What are orders, Captain?  Back to Saltmarsh or shall we put her through some paces first?" He looks expectantly to the party, waiting for their next move.

“Jory Fane Arlynn Lyric let’s share a drink in the captains quarters, we need to discuss our next course.”

”Crew look lively, take the Lady Saradie into deeper water get her facing Saltmarsh and await further instruction.”

”And to answer your question Pip, there are greater evils in the world than a hungry beast. How’s your knife fighting?”  

Once the ship is underway and the named crew meets in quarters.  “Seems we are synching an alliance, once we’ve personally dealt with a problem at Bale Keep.  I’m on the fence whether to secure the alliance first or report to Saltmarsh what we have learned.  I’ll put it to a vote, I’ll pen a report if we choose to deal with Bale Keep first as the Lizardfolk enemy is surely a concern for Saltmarsh too.”  Eron will answer questions and look to Jory for confidence in keeping the crew sharp and ready.

The blue-haired half-elf would bid the Lizardfolk farewell and return with the others to ship, letting the captain deal with his capable crew.
"I suggest we send Zzplorff into the keep to scout it out before we enter to get a good idea of what we're up against, numbers a potential capabilities of course, but perhaps more importantly, if we know who they are and why they are here we could possibly make another alliance rather than fight another battle." Arlynn suggests to the others. "After dealing with Bale Keep I would prefer to at least stop by the Lizradfolk to report before returning to Saltmarsh." She adds with a friendly smile.

Fane returns to the ship, happy with the results, minimum deaths and an alliance was indeed within reach. 

"Perhaps some of our crew know something about Bale's keep? We should ask them."

Back at the ship, Leo heads up to the crow's nest, no doubt to nap.

Fane will follow the others into the captains quarters. "Utilizing ZZplorff is a good plan. I can have Leo aid to, but since she can not turn invisible, well, without my aid, she can watch from higher up. I also agree, perhaps it does not have to be a fight at the keep, another alliance would be ideal."

A quick survey of the crew picks up a scattered few details about Bale Keep:

• It is visible from the sea, just a couple of miles west of the lizardfolk settlement.  It is a Keoish fortress of relatively recent make.
• It was built as part of an effort to militarize the coast and prevent easy invasion from the Hold of the Sea Princes.  But it was never fully completed and soon became abandoned.  It is impossible to resupply by land and the waters nearby were too treacherous to allow for a port large enough to sustain the building process, or provision the eventual fortress.  The entire build was a boondoggle and a waste of the royal treasuries.
• There are many rumors about the keep among sailors, but no one takes the ghost stories too seriously.

Arlynn gives Fane an apperciative nod and smile for her support. The blue-haired half-elf would listen and thank the crew for the information the contribute with. She would take the time to wash up and rest a bit but as the ship closes in on the keep she would send out her familiar to make a thorough scouting of the place, checking numbers, positions and entry points, hopefully also listening in on some conversations to help determine what the obejectives of the current occupants of the keep are. In the end she hopes the team will be armed with information about who the people in the keep are and what they want to better be able to negotiate with them.

[If Arlynn is sending Zzplorff ahead to scout Bale keep, I will need a Stealth and a Perception check for the familiar.

It will be tomorrow before the familiar returns.  Everyone can take a long rest.  Additionally, will the ship just be at anchor off the coast near the lizardfolk settlement?  Do you move elsewhere?  Are crewmen set to nights watch or do party members take a turn at watch?]