Sosen rocks back, momentarily stunned by the bullwug's sudden burst of energy and violence. "This ends NOW, " she stated with her jaw clamped firm. She swung her mace with all her might in an effort to put the creature down before he could injury or kill anyone else.
Combat Log: Attack: 12 Dmg: 5
Bonus Action> Nimble Escape: Disengage
Sosen moves away and around the flailing bullywug and beelines to the fallen Lanu.
A primal scream of rage and anguish erupts from Sosen as she witnesses Peregrine crumple under Bullywug 3's savage assault. Ignoring the burning pain of exhaustion in her own arm, she throws herself towards the creature, her mace held high in a vengeful fury. She swings her mace with all her might, aiming for a crushing blow that will end the bullywug threat definitively. Her attack, fueled by righteous anger, is a whirlwind of motion. The air itself vibrates with the force behind Sosen's blow. Her mace, imbued with divine justice, streaks towards Bullywug 3 in a deadly arc. But her faith is denied. With a sickening clang, the mace connects with the creature's crude armor, not the vulnerable flesh Sosen intended. Sparks fly as the metal deflects the blow, the force of the impact sending a tremor through Sosen's burning arms. The mace glances harmlessly off, leaving Bullywug 3 wounded but still a threat, a defiant glint in its beady eyes.
The world seems to slow down for Sosen as the impact registers. She stands off-balance, her chest heaving with exertion. Disbelief clouds her features for a fleeting moment. How could her divinely-charged attack fail to find its mark? But the urgency of the situation cuts through her shock. Peregrine stands valiantly, near death, hacking coughs escaping his lips as he struggles to stay upright but fighting on. Lanu remains unconscious, her presence a stark reminder of the toll this battle has taken. Sosen nimbly disengages from the wounded bullywug and moves towards Lanu.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The swamp air hangs heavy with the stench of exertion and desperation. Morgid, a seasoned hunter with eyes that have seen countless battles, recognizes the perilous situation. The fight has stretched on longer than anticipated, leaving them battered and depleted. Lanu lies unconscious on the periphery, a chilling reminder of the swamp's relentless brutality. Peregrine, his valiant spirit flickering like a dying ember, struggles to stay upright, each ragged breath a testament to his fading strength. Hesitation, Morgid knows all too well, can be deadly in the treacherous swamps. The wounded Bullywug 3, despite its injuries, still possesses the power to inflict further devastation.
With the grim determination of a survivor, Morgid decides to end this fight definitively. Years of honed reflexes kick in with practiced efficiency as he nocks two arrows in rapid succession. His focus narrows, the world around him fading away until all that remains is the wounded Bullywug 3 in his sights. With a silent prayer for accuracy, he lets loose the deadly volley. The arrows, imbued with the desperation of their situation, streak through the air in a deadly arc, one following the other, aimed for the vital organs of the monstrous amphibian.
An exasperated gasp escapes the party's ragged breaths as both of Morgid's arrows find nothing but air. The first one, aimed with deadly precision, zips past Bullywug 3's ear, the fletching whispering a chilling promise of demise that never arrives. The second arrow, meant to cripple the creature, goes wide, embedding itself harmlessly in the swamp muck a hair's breadth from Bullywug 3's powerful leg. Disbelief washes over Morgid's face, momentarily replacing the grim determination. Panic threatens to bubble up, but years of experience quickly bring it back under control. He slams his longbow to the ground in frustration, the unmistakable clatter echoing through the swamp. Bullywug 3, emboldened by this unexpected turn of events, lets out a guttural roar, a primal sound that vibrates through the very ground. Its beady eyes, fill with a renewed surge of aggression.
Peregrine, who would rather do nothing than fall over and sleep until he felt better, gripped his bow one more time, notching back and arrow, his vision blurry as he aimed at the last Bullywug.
As despair threatens to consume them, a flicker of defiance erupts from the near-broken form of Peregrine. With a surge of adrenaline that belies his grievous wounds, he reaches for his shortbow. The world blurs around him, his vision swimming with pain, but instinct takes over. He steadies the weapon as best he can, aiming through blurry eyes at the monstrous amphibian. The Bullywug 3 lunges forward, but Peregrine's arrow is faster. It streaks through the air with a deadly hum, finding its mark true. The shaft pierces the creature's chest with a sickening thud, and the bullywug lets out a final, gurgling roar before collapsing in a heap onto the swamp floor.
Silence descends upon the battlefield, broken only by the ragged gasps of the heroes. Sosen, still poised in a defensive stance, lowers her mace slowly, disbelief giving way to dawning relief. Tears well up in her eyes as she glances at the unmoving form of Lanu. Morgid stares, dumbfounded, at the unmoving form of Bullywug 3, finally allowing himself to relax his rigid stance. "Nice shot, kid," he rasps, his voice barely a whisper. Peregrine lowers his bow, his hand trembling. He sways on his feet for a moment, the world tilting precariously around him. But then, a resolute glint returns to his eyes. He manages a weak smile, a bloody cough escaping his lips. The swamp around them is a tableau of devastation – the fallen bullywugs lie crumpled nearby, the mud stained a dark crimson, and the air thick with the metallic tang of blood. Fatigue hangs heavy on them, a stark reminder of the brutal fight they've just endured. But amidst the grief and weariness, a sliver of hope flickers. They are alive. For now.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Sosen's shoulders drop after the stress of the battle had them riding higher and higher as the encounter had progressed. Now, she felt the tension wash away into the marshy water and mud. Seeing Peregrin sway and then straighten, she immediately walks over and lays a hand on the Dark Elf's arm and softly intones a prayer to Xalicas -
"Sadly, that is all I can do with my spells. Give me a few moments to work on Lanu and I will see about more healing if I can," she smiled at Peregrin as she patted his arm one more time.
Moving over to Lanu, Sosen will check for signs of life and look at the injuries. She nods her head, agreeing with herself as she rummages in her backpack for one of the Healer's Kit she carries. A little drinking water to flush the bite, some salve, and a cloth wrap should be a good start toward healing. heal: 9
"Peregrine, are you able to move about? Feel up to helping Morgid go over the bodies and see if they have any maps?" Sosen called over her shoulder as she continued working on Lanu.
"Morgid, is there a clump back where you were firing that might hide 4 fat frogs?" She said a prayer to Xalicas as she tsked over the bite wound on Lanu.
"Oh, and can you find the best spear among their weapons? I think I'd like something I can walk with in this marsh... to judge water depths and the sharp end in case something disagrees with us passing by. We really need to find a clump of dry ground to rest on. Or, a strong clump of the swamp trees we can climb into to make a safe place to sleep and protect." She once again went back to examining Lanu's wounds and muttering to herself as she poked and dribbled water to reveal the flesh beneath the mud.
Sosen's gaze falls on Peregrine, his valiant spirit etched on his pale face. She knows immediate action is needed. Muttering a quick prayer under her breath, Sosen focuses her divine energy. A warm light emanates from her hand as she places it upon Peregrine's wound. The soft, white light bathes Peregrine's wounds, coaxing them shut at an accelerated pace. His ragged gasps ease, replaced by deeper, more even breaths. A faint color returns to his cheeks, a testament to the spell's restorative power. A surge of vitality courses through Peregrine's body with the touch of Sosen's spell. He manages a weak groan, then a grateful nod towards Sosen.
With Peregrine's condition renewed, Sosen turns her attention to the unconscious Lanu. Unlike Peregrine, the blow she sustained clearly knocked her out. Sosen retrieves her custom healer's kit, a well-worn leather pouch filled with various tools and concoctions. She crushes a vial filled with a pungent smelling mixture between her fingers. Holding it under Lanu's nose, the sharp aroma assaults her senses, hopefully triggering a response. Gently applying a soothing balm to Lanu's temples, Sosen massages the pressure points in a practiced motion, hoping to stimulate the nervous system and rouse her from unconsciousness. Sosen lets out a soft, but urgent call, "Lanu, can you hear me? Open your eyes!" Her voice trembles with a mix of hope and worry. Lanu's eyelids flutter open, revealing a flicker of awareness amidst the lingering pain. With practiced efficiency, Sosen extracts the necessary medicinal herbs and bandages from her healer's kit to create a poultice for Lanu's wounds to staunch the bleeding and ease her path back to consciousness. As she works, Lanu winces with each touch, but manages a weak smile.
The adrenaline from the harrowing battle slowly begins to ebb, replaced by the dull ache of exertion and the grim task at hand. Morgid casts a wary eye around the swamp, searching for a suitable spot to lay the fallen bullywugs to rest. He recognizes the importance of sending their amphibian foes back to the muck from whence they came to minimize the chances of attracting scavengers or further threats. Spotting a cluster of gnarled cypress knees rising above the fetid water like a natural crypt, he responds, "That cluster there would be a good place to hide the bodies." His gaze falls upon the rusty spear the bullywug leader had haphazardly thrown, now lying stuck in the mud where it missed. He bends down, retrieving it with a practiced ease, and examines the weapon with a critical eye. "This one," he says, his voice hoarse but firm, tossing the spear towards Sosen. "Looks like the leader's spear. Crude but well-made. Probably the best one of the lot, if you're interested."
"Listen close," he continues, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "We've had our fill of excitement for one day. Sun's starting to dip, and you're right, Sosen. We need a dry patch of ground before we collapse. One more hour of travel at most, then we find a decent place to camp. Any longer, and exhaustion will be our next enemy."
Lanulooks up "Thanks Sosen. That warm light was looking quite tempting compared to this swamp", she goes to stand up and then falls down again woozy. "I wouldn't mind a rest soon. My arm is killing me, for a minute there literally. But I can manage to get to some dry ground, I think we need it." She slowly makes her way to her feet, and although wobbly, is find to continue, her strength slowly returning.
"We should hide their bodies first, but I agree,"Peregrine said, looking at the cypress trees that Morgid found. He carefully came closer to the Bullywug he had just killed in order to start moving it. His movement was slow, what with his wounds, but with Sosen's healing he feels much better than he had been feeling. "We must be quick if we're to utilize what light we have left."
Morgid takes charge, his weathered hands surprisingly nimble as he hoists the nearest Bullywug. With a grunt of effort, he maneuvers the creature towards the cypress knees, careful not to sink deeper into the treacherous swamp muck. Peregrine, despite his injuries, follows suit, wincing as he lifts another amphibian. As they work, Morgid casts furtive glances around, his eyes flickering with a hidden purpose. While Peregrine focuses on the task at hand, Morgid uses the opportunity to conduct a discreet search. His calloused fingers delve into the pockets and pouches of the fallen Bullywugs, a practiced ease belying the urgency in his movements Sleight of Hand23
He pockets any coin he finds, his face betraying a flicker of avarice amidst the grimness of the situation. The swamp, ever watchful, seems to hold its breath as Morgid engages in his clandestine search. The party, focused on their own burdens, remains blissfully unaware. Finally, with a sigh of exertion, they lay the last Bullywug to rest amongst the cypress knees, creating a makeshift underwater tomb. Morgid steps back, wiping his brow with a grimy sleeve. "There," he mutters, a hint of satisfaction lacing his voice. "Those shouldn't trouble us anymore. Time to go."
Grabbing their things, including Sosen's new bullywug spear, Morgid takes the lead, his weathered face etched with an air of grim determination. With a practiced eye, the party navigates the treacherous terrain, their boots sinking occasionally into the deceptive layers of mud and water. The path ahead is a labyrinth of gnarled roots, grasping vines, and cypress trees draped in Spanish moss. The air itself seems to groan with the symphony of unseen swamp creatures – the croaking of frogs, the buzzing of insects, and the occasional rustle in the undergrowth. The hour they push on feels like an eternity. Each step is a battle against the relentless swamp and their own growing exhaustion. Yet, hope flickers in their eyes. With every passing moment, the oppressive weight of the swamp seems to lessen, replaced by a yearning for respite. Finally, just as the last sliver of orange light bleeds from the horizon, Morgid raises a hand in a silent signal. Ahead, a small rise in the ground offers a haven – a patch of relatively dry earth covered by a sparse collection of ferns and low-lying bushes. It isn't ideal, but it is far better than the treacherous mire they'd been traversing. "Here," Morgid announces, relief mingling with the ever-present wariness in his voice. "This will have to do for the night." With weary movements but a renewed sense of purpose, the party sets about making camp. They clear a small area, gathering any loose branches or twigs for a fire. As the last embers of daylight fade, they huddle around a flickering fire, a fragile beacon against the encroaching darkness and the unknown dangers of the swamp. The exhaustion is undeniable, a heavy weight settling on their limbs. But for now, they have found a semblance of safety, a chance to rest and heal before facing whatever challenges await them on the morrow.
Before sleeping, Lanu takes a look at the map to try and work out a route for the next day. Better to do that now while safe in case the morning comes with an attack and they need to flee without having chance to look at the map. It looks like a direct route from where they are now to Fort Venture will take them through a relatively open area without too many trees to hinder progress or hide enemies (at least for the next day of travel) and so that is what she recommends to the others. "I think the pace from today was good. I wouldn't want to go faster and get lost with how dangerous parts of the swamp are."
After the planning, she will sleep to recover from the fight, and almost dying.
Sosen watches as everyone makes camp and tries to get comfortable for the night. "I will take first watch, " she went to each to see if they needed additional care as she made her round on the tiny hillock.
Combat Log - Perception: 17
She too leaned over Lanu's shoulder for a moment as they studied the map. Whispered discussion and much finger tracing by Lanu and Sosen seemed to finally come to an agreement on the route for tomorrow. "Threading the needle going south southwest? Hoping to stay inbetween (away) from what looks like a mushroom encrusted island in a lake and the gray tower to the south. Lanu, you and Morgid might want to do one last look in the morning, just to be certain. He might know some odd fact on the dangers of those two 'landmarks'."
Combat Log - Survival Check: 8
Combat Log - General Roll: 16
Map gazing done for now, Sosen checks on Peregrin and Morgid before taking a step or two away from the resting figures as she makes a wide circle around their camp. In the hours ahead, the 'circle' of ferns and bramble becomes a well trod path for those watching later in the night.
Peregrine settles down in their makeshift camp, glanced over the rest of their party. With the hope that by the morning, or whenever it is he wakes, he'll be feeling much better, he gets ready to rest.
He looks to Sosen, "I can take watch after you."
He crosses his arms over his chest, preparing for rest.
The night unfolds like a thick, black cloak, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the unseen breeze. The watch schedule goes smoothly, each member taking their turn with a vigilant eye on the darkness. Thankfully, the swamp remains quiet, offering a much-needed respite.
As the swamp night deepens and a thick curtain of stars unfurls across the inky cloak of the sky, a celestial anomaly pierces the usual tapestry of stars. Ruidus, the elusive crimson moon, hangs low in the sky, a brooding sentinel unlike any other. Unlike its more common companion, the pearly white Catha, Ruidus is a rare visitor. Its color isn't a vibrant red, but a deep, smoldering ember, a color that seems to bleed into the very darkness itself. It hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie, blood-like glow upon the swamp. The familiar constellations, etched into the minds of travelers for generations, seem to shrink back, their usual brilliance dimmed by the oppressive presence of Ruidus. The stars twinkle with a nervous energy, as if sensing the disharmony in the night sky. An eerie silence descends upon the swamp, broken only by the occasional croak of a startled frog or the rustle of unseen swamp creatures. The very air vibrates with an unseen tension, as if the swamp itself holds its breath under the watchful gaze of Ruidus.
Sosen rocks back, momentarily stunned by the bullwug's sudden burst of energy and violence. "This ends NOW, " she stated with her jaw clamped firm. She swung her mace with all her might in an effort to put the creature down before he could injury or kill anyone else.
Combat Log: Attack: 12 Dmg: 5
Bonus Action> Nimble Escape: Disengage
Sosen moves away and around the flailing bullywug and beelines to the fallen Lanu.
A primal scream of rage and anguish erupts from Sosen as she witnesses Peregrine crumple under Bullywug 3's savage assault. Ignoring the burning pain of exhaustion in her own arm, she throws herself towards the creature, her mace held high in a vengeful fury. She swings her mace with all her might, aiming for a crushing blow that will end the bullywug threat definitively. Her attack, fueled by righteous anger, is a whirlwind of motion. The air itself vibrates with the force behind Sosen's blow. Her mace, imbued with divine justice, streaks towards Bullywug 3 in a deadly arc. But her faith is denied. With a sickening clang, the mace connects with the creature's crude armor, not the vulnerable flesh Sosen intended. Sparks fly as the metal deflects the blow, the force of the impact sending a tremor through Sosen's burning arms. The mace glances harmlessly off, leaving Bullywug 3 wounded but still a threat, a defiant glint in its beady eyes.
The world seems to slow down for Sosen as the impact registers. She stands off-balance, her chest heaving with exertion. Disbelief clouds her features for a fleeting moment. How could her divinely-charged attack fail to find its mark? But the urgency of the situation cuts through her shock. Peregrine stands valiantly, near death, hacking coughs escaping his lips as he struggles to stay upright but fighting on. Lanu remains unconscious, her presence a stark reminder of the toll this battle has taken. Sosen nimbly disengages from the wounded bullywug and moves towards Lanu.
The swamp air hangs heavy with the stench of exertion and desperation. Morgid, a seasoned hunter with eyes that have seen countless battles, recognizes the perilous situation. The fight has stretched on longer than anticipated, leaving them battered and depleted. Lanu lies unconscious on the periphery, a chilling reminder of the swamp's relentless brutality. Peregrine, his valiant spirit flickering like a dying ember, struggles to stay upright, each ragged breath a testament to his fading strength. Hesitation, Morgid knows all too well, can be deadly in the treacherous swamps. The wounded Bullywug 3, despite its injuries, still possesses the power to inflict further devastation.
With the grim determination of a survivor, Morgid decides to end this fight definitively. Years of honed reflexes kick in with practiced efficiency as he nocks two arrows in rapid succession. His focus narrows, the world around him fading away until all that remains is the wounded Bullywug 3 in his sights. With a silent prayer for accuracy, he lets loose the deadly volley. The arrows, imbued with the desperation of their situation, streak through the air in a deadly arc, one following the other, aimed for the vital organs of the monstrous amphibian.
Attack: 19 Piercing Damage: 9; Attack: 10 Piercing Damage: 4
An exasperated gasp escapes the party's ragged breaths as both of Morgid's arrows find nothing but air. The first one, aimed with deadly precision, zips past Bullywug 3's ear, the fletching whispering a chilling promise of demise that never arrives. The second arrow, meant to cripple the creature, goes wide, embedding itself harmlessly in the swamp muck a hair's breadth from Bullywug 3's powerful leg. Disbelief washes over Morgid's face, momentarily replacing the grim determination. Panic threatens to bubble up, but years of experience quickly bring it back under control. He slams his longbow to the ground in frustration, the unmistakable clatter echoing through the swamp. Bullywug 3, emboldened by this unexpected turn of events, lets out a guttural roar, a primal sound that vibrates through the very ground. Its beady eyes, fill with a renewed surge of aggression.
Peregrine, who would rather do nothing than fall over and sleep until he felt better, gripped his bow one more time, notching back and arrow, his vision blurry as he aimed at the last Bullywug.
Attack: 16 Damage: 6
As despair threatens to consume them, a flicker of defiance erupts from the near-broken form of Peregrine. With a surge of adrenaline that belies his grievous wounds, he reaches for his shortbow. The world blurs around him, his vision swimming with pain, but instinct takes over. He steadies the weapon as best he can, aiming through blurry eyes at the monstrous amphibian. The Bullywug 3 lunges forward, but Peregrine's arrow is faster. It streaks through the air with a deadly hum, finding its mark true. The shaft pierces the creature's chest with a sickening thud, and the bullywug lets out a final, gurgling roar before collapsing in a heap onto the swamp floor.
Silence descends upon the battlefield, broken only by the ragged gasps of the heroes. Sosen, still poised in a defensive stance, lowers her mace slowly, disbelief giving way to dawning relief. Tears well up in her eyes as she glances at the unmoving form of Lanu. Morgid stares, dumbfounded, at the unmoving form of Bullywug 3, finally allowing himself to relax his rigid stance. "Nice shot, kid," he rasps, his voice barely a whisper. Peregrine lowers his bow, his hand trembling. He sways on his feet for a moment, the world tilting precariously around him. But then, a resolute glint returns to his eyes. He manages a weak smile, a bloody cough escaping his lips. The swamp around them is a tableau of devastation – the fallen bullywugs lie crumpled nearby, the mud stained a dark crimson, and the air thick with the metallic tang of blood. Fatigue hangs heavy on them, a stark reminder of the brutal fight they've just endured. But amidst the grief and weariness, a sliver of hope flickers. They are alive. For now.
Sosen's shoulders drop after the stress of the battle had them riding higher and higher as the encounter had progressed. Now, she felt the tension wash away into the marshy water and mud. Seeing Peregrin sway and then straighten, she immediately walks over and lays a hand on the Dark Elf's arm and softly intones a prayer to Xalicas -
Cure Wounds - [combat log: Healing 7 pts]
"Sadly, that is all I can do with my spells. Give me a few moments to work on Lanu and I will see about more healing if I can," she smiled at Peregrin as she patted his arm one more time.
Moving over to Lanu, Sosen will check for signs of life and look at the injuries. She nods her head, agreeing with herself as she rummages in her backpack for one of the Healer's Kit she carries. A little drinking water to flush the bite, some salve, and a cloth wrap should be a good start toward healing. heal: 9
"Peregrine, are you able to move about? Feel up to helping Morgid go over the bodies and see if they have any maps?" Sosen called over her shoulder as she continued working on Lanu.
"Morgid, is there a clump back where you were firing that might hide 4 fat frogs?" She said a prayer to Xalicas as she tsked over the bite wound on Lanu.
"Oh, and can you find the best spear among their weapons? I think I'd like something I can walk with in this marsh... to judge water depths and the sharp end in case something disagrees with us passing by. We really need to find a clump of dry ground to rest on. Or, a strong clump of the swamp trees we can climb into to make a safe place to sleep and protect." She once again went back to examining Lanu's wounds and muttering to herself as she poked and dribbled water to reveal the flesh beneath the mud.
Sosen's gaze falls on Peregrine, his valiant spirit etched on his pale face. She knows immediate action is needed. Muttering a quick prayer under her breath, Sosen focuses her divine energy. A warm light emanates from her hand as she places it upon Peregrine's wound. The soft, white light bathes Peregrine's wounds, coaxing them shut at an accelerated pace. His ragged gasps ease, replaced by deeper, more even breaths. A faint color returns to his cheeks, a testament to the spell's restorative power. A surge of vitality courses through Peregrine's body with the touch of Sosen's spell. He manages a weak groan, then a grateful nod towards Sosen.
With Peregrine's condition renewed, Sosen turns her attention to the unconscious Lanu. Unlike Peregrine, the blow she sustained clearly knocked her out. Sosen retrieves her custom healer's kit, a well-worn leather pouch filled with various tools and concoctions. She crushes a vial filled with a pungent smelling mixture between her fingers. Holding it under Lanu's nose, the sharp aroma assaults her senses, hopefully triggering a response. Gently applying a soothing balm to Lanu's temples, Sosen massages the pressure points in a practiced motion, hoping to stimulate the nervous system and rouse her from unconsciousness. Sosen lets out a soft, but urgent call, "Lanu, can you hear me? Open your eyes!" Her voice trembles with a mix of hope and worry. Lanu's eyelids flutter open, revealing a flicker of awareness amidst the lingering pain. With practiced efficiency, Sosen extracts the necessary medicinal herbs and bandages from her healer's kit to create a poultice for Lanu's wounds to staunch the bleeding and ease her path back to consciousness. As she works, Lanu winces with each touch, but manages a weak smile.
The adrenaline from the harrowing battle slowly begins to ebb, replaced by the dull ache of exertion and the grim task at hand. Morgid casts a wary eye around the swamp, searching for a suitable spot to lay the fallen bullywugs to rest. He recognizes the importance of sending their amphibian foes back to the muck from whence they came to minimize the chances of attracting scavengers or further threats. Spotting a cluster of gnarled cypress knees rising above the fetid water like a natural crypt, he responds, "That cluster there would be a good place to hide the bodies." His gaze falls upon the rusty spear the bullywug leader had haphazardly thrown, now lying stuck in the mud where it missed. He bends down, retrieving it with a practiced ease, and examines the weapon with a critical eye. "This one," he says, his voice hoarse but firm, tossing the spear towards Sosen. "Looks like the leader's spear. Crude but well-made. Probably the best one of the lot, if you're interested."
"Listen close," he continues, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "We've had our fill of excitement for one day. Sun's starting to dip, and you're right, Sosen. We need a dry patch of ground before we collapse. One more hour of travel at most, then we find a decent place to camp. Any longer, and exhaustion will be our next enemy."
Lanu looks up "Thanks Sosen. That warm light was looking quite tempting compared to this swamp", she goes to stand up and then falls down again woozy. "I wouldn't mind a rest soon. My arm is killing me, for a minute there literally. But I can manage to get to some dry ground, I think we need it." She slowly makes her way to her feet, and although wobbly, is find to continue, her strength slowly returning.
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
"We should hide their bodies first, but I agree," Peregrine said, looking at the cypress trees that Morgid found. He carefully came closer to the Bullywug he had just killed in order to start moving it. His movement was slow, what with his wounds, but with Sosen's healing he feels much better than he had been feeling. "We must be quick if we're to utilize what light we have left."
Morgid takes charge, his weathered hands surprisingly nimble as he hoists the nearest Bullywug. With a grunt of effort, he maneuvers the creature towards the cypress knees, careful not to sink deeper into the treacherous swamp muck. Peregrine, despite his injuries, follows suit, wincing as he lifts another amphibian. As they work, Morgid casts furtive glances around, his eyes flickering with a hidden purpose. While Peregrine focuses on the task at hand, Morgid uses the opportunity to conduct a discreet search. His calloused fingers delve into the pockets and pouches of the fallen Bullywugs, a practiced ease belying the urgency in his movements Sleight of Hand 23
He pockets any coin he finds, his face betraying a flicker of avarice amidst the grimness of the situation. The swamp, ever watchful, seems to hold its breath as Morgid engages in his clandestine search. The party, focused on their own burdens, remains blissfully unaware. Finally, with a sigh of exertion, they lay the last Bullywug to rest amongst the cypress knees, creating a makeshift underwater tomb. Morgid steps back, wiping his brow with a grimy sleeve. "There," he mutters, a hint of satisfaction lacing his voice. "Those shouldn't trouble us anymore. Time to go."
Grabbing their things, including Sosen's new bullywug spear, Morgid takes the lead, his weathered face etched with an air of grim determination. With a practiced eye, the party navigates the treacherous terrain, their boots sinking occasionally into the deceptive layers of mud and water. The path ahead is a labyrinth of gnarled roots, grasping vines, and cypress trees draped in Spanish moss. The air itself seems to groan with the symphony of unseen swamp creatures – the croaking of frogs, the buzzing of insects, and the occasional rustle in the undergrowth. The hour they push on feels like an eternity. Each step is a battle against the relentless swamp and their own growing exhaustion. Yet, hope flickers in their eyes. With every passing moment, the oppressive weight of the swamp seems to lessen, replaced by a yearning for respite. Finally, just as the last sliver of orange light bleeds from the horizon, Morgid raises a hand in a silent signal. Ahead, a small rise in the ground offers a haven – a patch of relatively dry earth covered by a sparse collection of ferns and low-lying bushes. It isn't ideal, but it is far better than the treacherous mire they'd been traversing. "Here," Morgid announces, relief mingling with the ever-present wariness in his voice. "This will have to do for the night." With weary movements but a renewed sense of purpose, the party sets about making camp. They clear a small area, gathering any loose branches or twigs for a fire. As the last embers of daylight fade, they huddle around a flickering fire, a fragile beacon against the encroaching darkness and the unknown dangers of the swamp. The exhaustion is undeniable, a heavy weight settling on their limbs. But for now, they have found a semblance of safety, a chance to rest and heal before facing whatever challenges await them on the morrow.
Before sleeping, Lanu takes a look at the map to try and work out a route for the next day. Better to do that now while safe in case the morning comes with an attack and they need to flee without having chance to look at the map. It looks like a direct route from where they are now to Fort Venture will take them through a relatively open area without too many trees to hinder progress or hide enemies (at least for the next day of travel) and so that is what she recommends to the others. "I think the pace from today was good. I wouldn't want to go faster and get lost with how dangerous parts of the swamp are."
After the planning, she will sleep to recover from the fight, and almost dying.
(Roll for the next day: 11)
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Sosen watches as everyone makes camp and tries to get comfortable for the night. "I will take first watch, " she went to each to see if they needed additional care as she made her round on the tiny hillock.
Combat Log - Perception: 17
She too leaned over Lanu's shoulder for a moment as they studied the map. Whispered discussion and much finger tracing by Lanu and Sosen seemed to finally come to an agreement on the route for tomorrow. "Threading the needle going south southwest? Hoping to stay inbetween (away) from what looks like a mushroom encrusted island in a lake and the gray tower to the south. Lanu, you and Morgid might want to do one last look in the morning, just to be certain. He might know some odd fact on the dangers of those two 'landmarks'."
Combat Log - Survival Check: 8
Combat Log - General Roll: 16
Map gazing done for now, Sosen checks on Peregrin and Morgid before taking a step or two away from the resting figures as she makes a wide circle around their camp. In the hours ahead, the 'circle' of ferns and bramble becomes a well trod path for those watching later in the night.
Please roll one more Survival check. Sosen has advantage from Morgid's help
Survival: 12
Peregrine settles down in their makeshift camp, glanced over the rest of their party. With the hope that by the morning, or whenever it is he wakes, he'll be feeling much better, he gets ready to rest.
He looks to Sosen, "I can take watch after you."
He crosses his arms over his chest, preparing for rest.
(Roll for next day: 12)
The night unfolds like a thick, black cloak, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the unseen breeze. The watch schedule goes smoothly, each member taking their turn with a vigilant eye on the darkness. Thankfully, the swamp remains quiet, offering a much-needed respite.
As the swamp night deepens and a thick curtain of stars unfurls across the inky cloak of the sky, a celestial anomaly pierces the usual tapestry of stars. Ruidus, the elusive crimson moon, hangs low in the sky, a brooding sentinel unlike any other. Unlike its more common companion, the pearly white Catha, Ruidus is a rare visitor. Its color isn't a vibrant red, but a deep, smoldering ember, a color that seems to bleed into the very darkness itself. It hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie, blood-like glow upon the swamp. The familiar constellations, etched into the minds of travelers for generations, seem to shrink back, their usual brilliance dimmed by the oppressive presence of Ruidus. The stars twinkle with a nervous energy, as if sensing the disharmony in the night sky. An eerie silence descends upon the swamp, broken only by the occasional croak of a startled frog or the rustle of unseen swamp creatures. The very air vibrates with an unseen tension, as if the swamp itself holds its breath under the watchful gaze of Ruidus.