9/20/2017 0 Comments into the swampby shaena tosscobble (lisa. s) 1-9 ss1 Springswell 1 A.E. And so, I embarked upon my exploration. My friend Lindir invited me to join him in heading up the Black River helping another elf Tharrus find wood to harvest for Sanctus. They brought with them a rather mousy young gnome named Glin. Knowing we were headed to a bayou full of bugs, I stocked up Diwata-crafted mesh hoods, and took to the ship. 7 Springswell 1 A.E. After a week at sea, we arrived at Black River Island. I worried for Lindir. His memories of this swamp put him on edge. I tried to use my songs to calm him, but I didn't know if it would be enough once we were deep into the marshes. When we disembarked, we were greeted by Dougal Ainsley, a big, greasy human, who seems to run the tiny island outpost. The ramshackle camptown stood among the reeds and rot-soaked trees on a small island at the edge of the marsh. The brazier atop the lighthouse burned bright against the coming darkness. A half orc mercenary named Sactonel runs the outfitters where we took on our final provisions. Lindir knew her, and she invited us into the tavern for a drink. The bar was chilly and damp. A single matronly barmaid named Hurlee Lackey scuttled among the tables, bringing ale to the travelers. Sactonel told us that she and her logging crew have faced troubles further up the river to the northeast. Bullywugs have forced her to fight to protect her crew. She has killed 7 since Lindir left for Sanctus. Of course I, as a journeyman bard of the University, could not bear to pass up a chance to perform. The crowd was cheered to hear a light-hearted tune. But after less than half a set, Feinthald, a mis-tuned strummer who, for all his Sidhe aires could never meet the discerning expectations of a Sanctus audience, deigned to interrupt me! Apparently he had some form of arrangement with the overworked bar owner. Knowing that the hard-working people of Black River Tavern deserved better than his meager plucking and strained voice, I challenged him to a bard-off. I played my best, most invigorating melodies, bringing the patrons to their feet. Feinthald simply could not match my skill with the strings. And so now, whenever I find myself back at the tavern, these fine people will be free to enjoy some real music. My companions spent their evenings gathering what news they could of the area. Glin learned that fishermen had gone missing to the West. 8 Springswell, 1 A.E. After a cold night on creaky cots huddled around a small hearth, we set out north along the river. For more than 5 miles the river jogged its way through the marshes. Wildlife surrounded us on every side. Deer, unaccustomed to the presence of hunters, stood warily and watched us pass. Insects of every shape and size swarmed around our heads, making us very glad for our hoods. Glin summoned his magical pet bat from out of thin air and it began to feast. Eventually, after stopping for lunch, Lindir told us that he was further than he had ever been before. We pulled our canoes off the main river and began the painstaking work of maneuvering them through the bogs. The sounds of bugs and frogs rang loudly in our ears. Just as we approached solid ground, we all heard the rumbling croak of a giant frog. And then another. Two of the Bullywugs’ pets leapt for us, intent on a quick meal. In a flash, one had its tongue wrapped around me (a Crit on the first attack!), its giant mouth open wide to swallow me whole. But my companions would not let me meet my fate that day. With sure strikes they wounded and distracted the beast, giving me the chance to wriggle free and escape. Once we were safe we took a moment to rest. Glin went into his bat’s eyes to scout the area and make sure we were safe. Then we hid the canoes and carried on on foot. After a few long hours traipsing through the muck, we found a place to make camp and fell into a fitful sleep. 9 Springswell, 1 A.E. At first light, before the first wisps of pink had even entered the sky, I heard them. Bullywugs. I sounded the alarm and my team sprung into action. I scaled a nearby tree while the elves prepared to fend them off on the ground. Behind the pair, Glin prepared a growing ball of sizzling acid suspended between his trembling hands. The Bullywugs attacked! I let loose a crossbow bolt that dropped the first in one blow (Nat 20!). Then Tharrus, Glin, and Lindir each landed blows, felling its partner before it could do any serious harm. As the moment passed and we all caught our breath, we could hear a chorus of deep baritone croaking out in the darkness. More were coming. (9/20/17 Game session) We heard the bullywugs croaking to one another to the South. They were watching us. Then suddenly they all dove into the water, coming toward us! We turned and fled the coming army, scrambling over the brush and dodging the deep marshes of the bayou. We could hear them crashing through the brush behind us, so Tharrus used his ranger magic to start a bonfire off to our right to draw them away while Lindir found us a place to lie in wait. We sat together nervously for what must have been an hour, but the bullywugs never came. As the bayou came back to life with the sounds of wildlife, we finally dared to pull out our trail rations and have a proper breakfast. To our surprise, we weren’t the only ones enjoying a meal. Glin’s bat, Vespertilio, helped us get our bearings, only to reveal that not 60 feet away, two large lizards were grazing on the first of a stand of trees. We crept closer to the four-legged beasts to get a better look. They had rounded snouts and strong jaws and seemed large enough for a human, or maybe a halfling and a gnome, to sit on its back. Their rear haunches were covered in colorful feathers, ending in a fall of long, beautiful tail feathers streaming out behind them in greens and blues. Upon closer inspection, it seemed their front halves were also feathered. But the feathers on their faces and front limbs were black and far smaller, like the down of a duck. The two beasts had worked together to fell a small tree. As we watched, they stripped the trunk of all its leaves and smaller twigs. We decided the lizards, which I recalled were named Sorrels, seemed docile enough. Tharrus and Lindir were eager to attempt contact with the beasts. Seeing that they ate plants, Lindir pulled some dried fruit from our rations and edged closer as the rest of us looked on, prepared to defend him if we had to. The Sorrels noticed him, and briefly investigated the fruit he laid on the ground near them, but in the end they seemed more interested in the trees. Tharrus and I believe that with enough patience, and maybe the right spells, these Sorrels could be ridden through the marshy terrain. Our excitement over the Sorrels masked another discovery: the trees themselves! Beyond the beasts we could see a large forest of mature oaks standing 60 to 80 feet tall. I lent Lindir my hammer and pitons and he scaled one of the trees for a better view. The forest carried on for quite a ways. The dense canopy made it hard to tell how far. But to the south Lindir could just barely make out where the forest ended and the ocean began. We had accomplished our mission! But we also knew that the loggers who would follow us could not handle the bayou, the frogs, or especially the bullywugs. Glin and I thought maybe the leaders of the savage tribe could be reasoned with, but since we couldn’t speak their language, that would have to wait for another time. We decided to scout west and blaze a firm trail from the forest to the river where we had begun our journey. Lindir carved trail markers into both sides of trees as we went, marking the trail coming and going. After 3 hours, we broke through onto the banks of the Black River. Laying one last set of markers, we turned south, hoping to find where we had turned off and recover our canoes. We marched through lunch until we came across a tributary to the south that we had passed on the way in. Not lost, technically, we discovered we had missed our turn. We had to decide whether to walk the remaining five miles, or turn back. We pushed on, wading and swimming across the tributary. Just before nightfall, as the air hung heavy with the nightly storm, we came across two hunters who assured us we were close to the island. We easily hailed a fishing boat to ferry us across and ducked into the tavern for dinner just as rain began to fall.
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AuthorThe journal entries here are provided by the active player characters participating in the Detroit Marches. Archives
July 2018
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