Malrik offered an easy laugh, waving a hand dismissively.

"Perish the thought, my dear!  The item in question is merely a relic.  On that Stone Feather agreed to part with.  This would be ... an exchange delayed, not denied."

"You’d merely be concluding a transaction, not committing a trespass."

This explanation raises no red flags with Navrine's intuition.

Cassian seems satisfied with the price for the spellbook and Malrik's basic explanation of this possible new task, though he still has questions. "What can you tell us o-of this artefact? Any special d-dangers we would need to look out for while we h-have it with us?"

Malrik went on to explain that he was after a talisman.  A simple weathered amulet made of blackened bone carved with twisting serpents.

Once used by shamans of the lizardfolk tribes to channel their spiritual energies during rituals. Its significance lies not in its power but in its rarity and historical value.

The danger, Malrik advised, lie not in transporting the item ... but in safely navigating the swampy morass of the Great Moor ... and then also returning alive without meeting ones demise at the hands (or claws) of the many creatures that called that wild, lawless & untamed land home.

Common knowledge for the party: It is true that Hope's End is a forgotten little village at the edge of civilization.  Dangerous? Sure.  But at the end of the day ... the region is still more or less civilized.  That is, roads, settlements of quite-possibly-friendly locals, safe places to camp without needing to set a watch, etc.

Entering the Great Moor, however, would definitely be a step toward leaving all that behind.  An expedition could easily take a week or more (assuming one does not get lost).

Doc listens intently to what Malrik has to say.

"It sounds like a dangerous, and long during, job, I don't want to be rude, butwhat is in it for us?"

Cassian pauses to try to recall the nature books he's read and any creatures or dangers they are likely to encounter in an area like the Great Moor.

Nature: 15

Malrik offered a thin, knowing smile and made a show of his hands.  "Fifty gold coins each for a few days’ labor, my friends. A fair recompense for work that — while fascinating — presents no extraordinary peril.  Furthermore, you would earn my continued favor, and I am an individual of influence in certain ... esoteric circles."

Cassian recalled that swamps and moors could be dangerous places.  Finding fresh water would not be too much of a challenge, but foraging and hunting in those lands was not a reliable means of securing food.  Many of the predators and prey that called the Great Moor home had developed extraordinary abilities in response to living someplace so dangerous (expect creatures with poisonous, acidic, or paralyzing attacks, etc) [DC8].  Further, he knew that the savage tribes of the lizardfolk were more or less were the predominant sentient race that called the Great Moor home.  The could  be peaceful ... but not always [DC12].  Beyond the lizardfolk, another threat was the Bogmen.  Thoroughly evil frog-like humanoids.  Tales of their cruelty were enough to keep most travelers from exploring the Great Moor. [DC15].

Lastly ... Cassian thought maybe he had once heard tales of a black dragon that claimed the Great Moor as home ... but he couldn't quite recall the specifics [DC20].

Feel free to follow the hyperlinks and refresh your memory on lizardfolk and bullywugs.

Cassian explains to the others what he remembers. "We'll need to prepare well before we leave, especially with rations and anything that would help against paralysis. I can purify poison a couple of times, but probably some antitoxins too...I think it's doable. If we a-all agree, of course."

Navrine looks for reactions from her comrades “Well sounds pretty dangerous to me, but I am good to go if you guys are?” She looks to Cassian "Fifty gold would help bring some measure of hope and cheer to the villagers of Hopes End?” She nods in agreement with Cassians statements. “I agree with you, we definitely should plan and prepare as best we can, maybe find someone in town who has been there before who may have maps of safer routes?”

For the past three days, guided by Malrik's starmap, the Great Moor sprawled in every direction ... an endless expanse of trackless fens and quagmires.

No one in the party spoke the tongue of the lizardfolk, so Malrik had taught them a simple phrase in draconic. They were to speak these words to any lizardfolk encountered.

Purportedly, the phrase meant 'I seek parley with Stone Feather.'   

The air hung thick with moisture, carrying the sickly sweet scent of rotting vegetation and stagnant water. Reeds swayed in sluggish breezes, mingling with the croak of frogs and the hum of biting insects. The terrain was a chaotic maze of mossy mounds, sunken trails, and pools of dark, reflective water.

Each and every step was a battle against clinging mud and hidden sinkholes, while occasional stretches of firm ground offered false hope before plunging them back into the mire. Rain came and went, soaking them to the bone and blurring the horizon, while the ever-present drone of insects tested their patience.

Ahead in the distance, a faint bluish glow flickered through the haze.  If the starmap was to be believed, it was the edge of the lizardfolk's domain.

It is early evening, and will be dark soon.

Swatting the occasional biting insect away from her face Navrine looks around for a reasonably good place to camp and establish watches for the coming night. “This seems like a rather dreary place. I hope we can find a good place to camp for the night?” She aids whoever in the group that is looking for a camping spot by studying possible attack routes and areas where the group could have some cover. “I can take my first watch if you guys like?”

“Thanks, Navrine.” Cassian says, his voice steady but weary. “I can t-take second watch. H-hopefully, we can find a spot that isn’t completely waterlogged.”

Once they find an acceptable area to camp, he will kneel to perform the ritual to cast detect poison and disease.

Spells are cast, and the group determines the best possible — and somewhat dry — place to camp.

From the direction of the bluish glow ... the sound of croaking and the sibilant, guttural hiss of draconic.

It had been a few days since they party had heard any conversation besides their own, but it was clear now — even if they did not understand the words — they were not alone!

Nothing poisonous or disease ridden is currently within 30'

Chromir will notice the sounds around, and in case they are intelligent creatures surrounding them, he starts to sharpen his axe quite obviously so that anyone watching knows they are armed to fight 

Doc speaks out the words thought by malrik. Hoping, these are the lizard folk they were supposed to talk too. 

Cassian looks into the direction the voices seem to be coming from, trying to remember anything he might have read before about lizardfolk history and customs.

History: 18

The heroes pushed through a thicket between them and the distant voices.  Reeds brushed against them as they emerged onto a small, muddy rise.  Before them stretched a vast expanse of boggy terrain, its uneven surface dotted with stagnant pools and a dense forest of cattails at its center. The cattails rose tall and thick, their golden-brown heads swaying lazily in the swamp’s faint breeze, forming a maze-like central feature that anyone entering it could quickly get lost in.

Across this expanse, two more hillocks rose from the muck.

To the heroes’ right stood a trio of lizardfolk upon a muddy hillock. The first was a lean, wiry warrior who bore a spiked shield, and gripped a javelin tipped with sharpened bone. Beside him loomed a larger unarmed lizardman, its broad shoulders hunched under the weight of a massive wicker basket strapped to its back.  Inside this basket, faint rustling suggested that it contained something alive.  Leading this trio was a shaman draped in earthy hues, their distinctive headdress fashioned from jagged stone feathers. The shaman gestured sharply with its gnarled staff, their gravelly draconic voice carrying across the bog as the shaman barked at the opposite hillock.

On the far hillock, to the heroes' left, stood a gathering of bog men that outnumbered the lizardfolk by three-to-one. The air was filled with tension as they menacingly croaked and whooped, their guttural voices rising in challenge.  One did not have to speak the croaking frog-like language to know that this band of warriors were issuing threats of violence upon their scaled neighbors.

At the center of the bog men, a grotesque figure sat astride a large and incredibly foul tempered steed ... a giant toad. This rider — obviously the leader of the bog men — wore the filthy regalia of what had once been a human nobleman’s finery. A crimson velvet jacket, its gold trim tarnished and frayed, clung awkwardly to the creature's bloated form. Torn sleeves revealed its slick, warty skin, and mud caked the trailing hem of its coat.  This 'Frog Prince's' bulbous yellow eyes darted between the bog men at its feet and the lizardfolk across the way, its wide mouth twisting into a sneering grin as it clutched a barbed lance.

The untranslated argument passed between these two groups and echoed over the bog, Doc's attempt at words lost amid angry shouts and croaks. It was clear that both groups were at an impasse, their hostility teetering on the brink of violence, while the swamp around them watched in ominous silence.

Apologies.  I didn't make it clear that the voices you heard were very far away.  You will have to be closer if you would like to speak to any of these creatures.

Cassian recalls nothing new regarding lizardfolk beyond that which he learned before.

We will now be tracking things round-by-round, please roll init with your next post.

Each of the three hillocks (where the tokens are beginning) is considered 'high ground' and you will have to climb/jump 10' down to travel to another part of the map.  The vegetation (shrubs, trees, cattails, etc) and water on the map will all count as difficult terrain, and anyone within the large area of cattails in the center will find that the area is heavily obscured.

The map is quite large, here is a closeup of your starting location.

The Frog Prince

"I t-think that's Stone Feather," Cassian observes as he studies the trio of lizardfolk, "We should protect him." Even if the reptile wasn't part of their quest, it is just instinct to want to side with the outnumbered humanoids. He is clearly nervous about getting their party involved, but it seems inevitable. "Chromir, you can t-take out multiple enemies the fastest. Y-you should be the one to use this." He holds out the potion of growth to the goliath.

Init: 16