Saliq gets to his feet a wry smile on his lips. "As a member of the gild I am probably duty bound to investigate strange magics... which fortunately was what I planned to do anyway."

"Stay away?" Folke looked befuddled as Rose explained the whistle.  "The people of the Glades don't help each other in times of need?"  The skald shook his head in disbelief as he pushed himself up from his chair to join the others.

"Cone on," he said to the others.  "There may not be much time."

The party moves, as usual, towards the sounds of danger.  Moving out to the back dock, they can hear the eerie twill of the horn in the distance floating through the thick air of the swamp.  There are a few flat-boats at the dock, and many long poles leaning against it.  One of these easily fits five and so the group grabs one, sure to return it to its owner and several poles.

It is a few moments of comedy as the party tries their hands at poling the boat, it is not as easy as it may seem.  Marissa is best at it, Folke quickly becomes second best, and its a two person job.  After a few minutes going nowhere, or in circles, they suddenly get the hang of it and move off into the swamp.

The flat boats move slow but smooth and steady, they glide over things that might seem to be in the way, and don't seem likely to tip unless a giant alligator where to rise up and bite the boat in half, or a 50 foot snake drop down from a tree and sink the craft, both of which have been known to have happened.

Inas uses his skills to point out the deepest smoothest waters, and Saliq seems to have an unerring ear for the direction of the horn.   It seems to take forever and the group passes several other small clusters of homes, built in twos or threes, connected by docks, bridges, even rope bridges, and some having wooden or reed walls raised about them.   In time, they pass through a thick cluster of trees and see in the distance three homes.  A large one built up high, two smaller ones connected but at water level. One of the homes is one fire.  The docks below, silhouettes a battle going on.  A group of men with pikes and spears are lined up against several forms that seem like gnarled trees. The horn is sounding from the upper house.

Even as the party approaches one of the men on the dock is grabbed and thrown some 40 feet into the swamp, crashing into the branches to lie floating in the dark water.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:30, Sun 14 Jan 2018.

The larger home is built slightly off the water, the two green spots are the swamp monsters, the black square is your boat.  The men are trying to defend the dock that runs between the two homes (one on fire) and the larger home.  Just a bit of a visual to help.

"Inas, is that fauna or...living flora?" she asks the ranger. "Will fire effect it?"

Even as she speaks, she untangles her spear from the tie ropes upon her pack.

Inas does his best to hazard a guess as he readies his bow.

"Even if it's plant, it may not burn," he advises as he fires two arrows.

Rath stops at the door and looks back. One might expect him to be smirking, but he's not. He's wearing a serious, almost sad expression, reviewing some troubled memory in his head. "I'm no hero. Let's go."

---

On the raft, Rath is full of helpful advise to Marissa and Folke to get the raft moving in the right direction until he realizes that both of them are likely to knock him into the swap with their poles if he continues talking, and about the time he shuts up they get the little boat moving. While Inas guides them through the waters and Saliq narrows down the source of the sound, Rath stands at the edge of the raft with his trident ready to take on those imagined giant snakes and alligators, but nothing comes of it.

---
As the fire and the swamp creatures come into sight, Rath turns grim. From this distance, he follow's Inas' lead and grabs his bow, sending a couple of arrows at the same target.

OOC: Hit AC 4 for 1 damage. Hit AC -6 for 12 damage (including double damage for critical).

06:01, Today: Aldo Rathmus rolled 10,20,1,6 using 1d20,1d20,1d6,1d6.  attack and damage with bow and arrows.

Question regarding the spell spiritual hammer. Text indicates the spell attacks at the level of the cleric. Would that include Rath's fighter levels, or if he used the spell would he be swinging away with the attack bonus of a low-level cleric?

As the boat is pushed softly up to the wooden dock, Inas and Rath unleash four arrows, three of which slam into the swamp creatures.  Though they hit hard and stick deep, the creatures do not overly react.  And though it is hard to see at the distance, it appears the wooden shafts of the arrows writhe and then weave themselves into the bodies of the creatures like so many vines and twigs.  Another of the men holding the dock is tossed into the swamp.  It appears there are only four left fighting and one smaller man standing behind them directing.

actions? you can be there in one round on foot over the docks. the other men have not noticed your arrival yet.

"Don't throw that spear!" Inas yells at Marissa.

As the party gets within 75 feet or so, Inas comes to a halt.  "I've got a crazy idea; won't hurt to try . . . I hope."  He stretches his hand forth and says some strange, vaguely elfin-sounding words (that aren't elfin at all).

Marissa jerks her head back at Inas' command, bides while he casts his spell.

"We've only been back for a minute, and already I've lost my edge. Time to get back into the swing of things, I think."

Calling upon the Neptune's grace, she casts a blessing over the party.

Bless: +1 to hit, +1 to morale, centered on the cleric in a 50' x 50' circle. 6 melee rounds.

For a moment the pole hung slack in Folke's hands as he watched the men being tossed aside by the tree creatures.  The fate of the arrows shot by Inas and Rath further added to his amazement, but the cries of the besieged settlers and his own companions brought him round again.

Choosing to defend the weakest looking man, he uttered a few lyrical words and a handful of golden sharps went spinning into the swamp monster threatening him.


OOC:

Cast Magic Missile (5 missiles)

20:02, Today: Folke Vanirhalvt rolled 16 using 5d4+5.  Damage - Magic Missiles.

The words of a spell die unspoken on Saliq's lips as the illusionist looks in surprise at Inas. Closing his mouth he waits uncertainly for this 'crazy idea' to work... whatever it is.

As Marissa prays, a wave of good fortune and protection envelope those in the boat.  Folke and Inas both cast spells, Folke sending five fiery missles to slam into the creature on the right, they burn some of the vegetation and the creature looks up in Folke's direction, having noticed him for certain now.  The other creature looks around a moment as the dock it is standing on seems to explode, heavy vines tear up through the dock, splinter boards as they do and grab the creature.  Its own vinelike nature tangles and fights with those whipping up from below, in the fight, both vines and creature vanish into the boiling swamp-water.

The other creature, a moment later, jumps off the dock and vanishes beneath the water as well.

Inas seems surprised at what he accomplished.  "Well, that worked.  Good to know."

A few seconds after the attack ends, the smaller man in the back of group of defenders yells out some commands in that Glade language, the other men disperse, heading for boats to try and find their comrades tossed into the swamp.  The man, however, turns and rushes over to your boat and is yelling at you.

Folke, who is best with odd languages, takes that he is none to happy with you being there.

A moment later, seeing your blank faces, he raises a hand in the air and makes a few strange cries, then looks at you and speaks.

"Did you not hear our horn of warning?".  His language is strange but you understand him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:51, Fri 19 Jan 2018.

"You know, if nobody wants us here, and everyone's ok with the threat of vine monsters, what are we doing here?" Inas asks sarcastically.

"Your gratitude is overwhelming, Sir."

The little man frowns, looks over the odd assortment of men and women facing him, "You came to help?" He seems as if he's putting things together, "Your magic, your arrows?  Who are you, who sent you here?"

The older man turns and walks away, heading back up to the upper house.

As they begin to pull some of the men from the muck and mire, they are worn and sore but otherwise unharmed.  One of them, the last to be thrown, covered in muck, says,

"Thank you, you drove them away, I don't know how, you obviously are not from here or abouts.  Forgive my father, he believes only in the old ways.  Are you lost, do you need a guide or help, we are in your debt, something we do not like to be, how may we repay you?".

"We'd be grateful for a guide." Saliq says, trying to hide his surprise at the lack of recognition. After being feted in Stormhaven proper it was a surprise to be nobodies again so close to the city.

"Do not worry about debts, I am a member of the Wizard's Guild in Stormhaven. I have a duty to investigate the misuse of magic, something I fear is plaguing you and your village."

Rath holds his tongue. The lack of welcoming from the insular locals does not surprise him, and though it grates on him, it's only an annoyance. He gives Inas a questioning glance. "That was new," he says with a smirk. "You been taking lessons from Eagle?"

Though the creatures were driven away, Rath is sure they'll be back. He stays vigilant. "Can you get us to the dock?" he asks Marissa. "We're vulnerable on the raft."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Folke answered Rath on behalf of himself and Marissa.  They'd figured out the poling rhythm eventually, and simple maneuvers like closing in on the dock were within their capability.

"And then maybe we can have a coherent conversation that gets us beyond the cultural suspicions."

Inas actually cracks a crude smile at Rath's mention of Eagle before responding to the one person who appears grateful for the intervention.


"Yes, a guide.  And person who will tell us what the hell is going on.  We know that these vine monsters are coming and collecting on past debts and promises, but not much more than that."

"Maybe the vine creatures collect the kidnapped on behalf of another, who then sets to turning the kidnapped into other vine creatures. Base speculation at this point, I know, but its a starting point to figuring things out."

It takes little time before the group has poled the boat in, and stand on the old worn dock.   Most of the men from the fight seem fine, only one who was tossed into the swamp has a broken nose where he hit the water into some heavy vines.  They quickly disperse, some going to each house, except the one that was on fire.  The fire has gone out during the short fight.  The young man covered in muck stands quietly as the group talks, but it not he who answers.  The smaller man who he called his father, and who seemed to walk away, steps back into view just behind his son. Between this illusion and the fact that everyone is understanding one another, clearly this is a man of magic.

"My son is right, I do not trust outsiders.  I am Hareesh, warden of this place, and I am honored to have a member of the Guild here.   This lady has good instincts, the marshmen, have real men inside them, it why we cannot kill them, they are our neighbors, friends, family.  You clearly know the danger we face, yet have come despite that.  We do not ask for help when it seems no good will come of it, but since you have come, I will tell you what I can.  But if you seek to help, it is noble, but I'm not sure there is any prevailing against the Morde Warlock"