"Ach, good man, prevailing is the preferred goal, but even knowing beforehand of certain defeat, still I would fight."

Inas -- all business as usual -- cuts through the verbiage and repeats the salient point.

"The Morde Warlock.  Start there.  Who is he, what is he doing, why is he doing it . . . and where is he?"

Hareesh listens to Marissa and Inas, and considers.  He takes out a long black stem and chews on it for a few moments.

"He is the most powerful wizard anywhere in this land, his what's and why's, are his to know, far beyond mortal minds to likely understand.  As to where, it is said it lives in a cave deep in the Glades, so filled with darkness, mud, and guardians, none has ever put sight on it and come back to tell.  He owns the Glades, and does as he sees fit."

He turns back to Marissa,  "You would fight, knowing certain defeat, tell me why, to what purpose?"

"Threats to the folk of Stormhaven, even those removed to some distance, present a threat to all. Evil, in all its wiles, would seek to tear down what my family and yours have attempted to put up. This warlock is twisting people for a malign purpose...all of that that defines him as evil. As such, he is a scourge that needs to be removed."

Marissa's speech was impressive and though he might not have quite the same conviction Folke still found her words inspiring.  What grabbed him was the whole concept of the Morde Warlock.  The name was perfect, conjuring up fell, shadowy images in his mind at the mere mention.  This sounded like a legend and quest worth pursuing, not only for the Glades folk but for his own scholarly learning.

"People deserve the right to live their lives free of such witchcraft," he said to the elder, stating his own reasons for aiding the local denizens.  "The natural world has challenges enough without men forcibly seeking dominion over their peers."

The old man seems to shrink as you speak,  leaning back into the shadows,

"You are brave, and determined, and I do not believe you will listen to me, so go and find the Morde Warlock, if he can be found.  But if you listen to one thing I say before you go get yourselves killed, or worse, go forth with open minds, do not look for danger or evil, for you will surely find it.  His story is an ancient one, and most stories, have many sides.  Paint him and his deeds as only black, and black you shall find.  You are welcome to stay the night, have food and drink if you wish, and you may have any of our boats and what supplies you wish to take."

"It seems that he comes to collect a debt; payment for a promise that he fulfilled.  Is this right?  And if so, is there anyone who has dealt with this . .  . man?"

Strangely, Rath seems to take Hareesh's words to heart. At least, he doesn't smirk derisively. The young warrior carries a serious, thoughtful expression, and he scratches his neck. He leans toward Saliq and whispers, "Morde. The Mistress got her prophecy from the Morde Witch, right?"

Rath feels that Inas is on the right track. The swamp creatures had come to retrieve someone, and that someone was probably worth talking to.

"Yes." Saliq whispered back, a frown crossing his face. He had desperately hoped all that business lay in the past.

"A man though rather than a woman, a warlock not a witch... a son perhaps? A descendant? A reincarnation? I know there are certain magics that can change male to female. Or so I have read."

Hareesh frowns at Inas' questions, seems about to object to something, then looks very shaken.

"What you say about collecting of debts, I fear we were unaware of this.  We were warned that the swamp men were on the move, stealing people, and that they were themselves people, transformed by the Morde Warlock.  If what you say is true, they were coming for me.  I am a shaman myself, of some power, but it was given to me.  When I was no older than you all are, I dreamed of having the magic to help my community, I did everything I could to achieve this, but my skills were meager.  One night I dreamed that I went to the docks, took a boat into the deep forest, and ate a strange blue lizard.  I awoke in my bed, and thought it but a dream.  Except, my skills grew quickly.    I suspected some force was at work, but I made no deal, that I remember."

"Curious," observed Folke, noting there was no deal made by the elder shaman himself.  "Didn't the other woman we spoke to mention something about parents making a deal for their child?  Or something like that?"  The skald looked to his companions, seeking confirmation of his memory.

"It may be that someone else wished for your magical blooming without consulting you," he commented to their host, "or that even your unconscious yearning was enough to seal a deal of sorts."

Rath begins to puzzle this out, judging by the deepening furrow across his brow and his squinting eyes. "You ate a blue lizard," he mutters. Turning to Ehridol, he adds conversationally, "He ate a blue lizard."

Rath grumbles, "Maybe they're not coming for you, old man. Maybe somebody else around here has a debt come due." He rubs his eyes and wonders if the others are making any more sense of this than Rath is.

Inas nods, indicating this is what he recalled.



Inas shrugs.  What the shrug may mean is unclear.



"Yes, that is what I was thinking.  I doubt the creatures' target was here on the docks, or else they would have just taken the person.  And if that's right, we should try to figure out where they might've been headin'."  Turning back to the old man, he asks: "Tell us about this 'attack.'"

Hareesh nods and calls over his son, "Gather everyone in the great room who is older than ten years, let them answer freely to these men who have come from Stormhaven to help us, make sure they are honest. Go".


In little time the party is seated in a large hall inside the largest home, cold tea and bread is available, but no feast to be sure.  There are a dozen men and women gathered, who seem shaken by the nights events.  One woman has a baby in her arms.  Whatever spell the old man cast holds, and you understand what is being said and are able to ask questions.  It doesn't take long to grow frustrated, for no one seems to have any connection to this mysterious figure or the swamp men.

After nearly half and hour and few glasses of tea, it seems pointless.  However, you note Hareesh is gone.  A quick search outside finds him truly gone, along with all the small boats except the one you came in on.

Hareesh's son shakes his head, "The old fool has gone to confront the Morde Warlock himself,  I reckon he thinks his magic will protect him".

Inas' sharp eyes can see that most of the boats have just been pushed off into the swamp to slow any pursuit, but a clear wide boat trail heads directly into the deeper swamp.

"C'mon . . . he has a head start we aren't likely to overcome, but we gotta try."

Marissa considers Rath's line of thought but holds her tongue for now. "Let's go see what if we can be any help to these folks, gentlemen," she said instead.

The skald was up and moving in a heartbeat.  If nothing else there was a fantastic tale unfolding here, one that would only get better if they managed to save the elder from his own foolish impulses.

"Right you are," he said to Inas and Marissa, heading straight for the pole he'd claimed as his own.  Though he and Marissa were not experienced they were two against one, and they'd gotten the hang of moving the shallow-hulled craft on the way here.  They might have a chance after all.

With some reservations and doubts, the party moves to their low boat and begins poling after the trail of the elders boat.  Inas has no trouble following it at first, and it generally follows the path the swamp creatures left in the water, with some small deviations.

After an hour, the swamp gets thicker, the trees bent and leaning back to the water, with long strands of moss and willow like branches, making progress slow and uncomfortable.

A few times Inas has to call a stop and search for awhile to find the track.  Several times large creatures flush at the boats approach, some underwater, a few up through the trees.   The air is moist and soon buzzing and stinging insects surround the boat.


Forward progress slows and poling becomes hard work, wearing at the muscles and nerves of those trying to press forward.

It is after three hours of moving forward, that you run across a pocket of open water in the swamp.  Some thirty feet of smooth open water, that lets in a bit more light.  The remains of boat, splintered and chewed floats there.  There is also blood in the water, and the remains of a creature, likely a big wildcat.   Rath, who seems to have it in his mind looks around at the surrounding trees, and notices half a dozen small four to six inch blue lizards lounging the nearby trees.

Saliq sighed at the sight of the boat and creature. "Poor man. We better try and recover that cat creature to examine just what slew it."

It doesn't take much work to pull the large cat next to the boat for examination.  Inas looks it over with some distaste.  Judging by the condition of its face, and then a look at its front feet, Inas concludes the creature clawed its own eyes out and likely drown afterward.   There is no sign of any other dead,  there is another exit from the pool of water that shows signs that it is the direction the swamp creatures went in.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:18, Tue 13 Feb 2018.

"That's, uh ... ," Rath observes. "That's not natural. I mean, animals don't take their own eyes out. Do they?" As for the lizards, Rath points them out to Inas. "I've got a pain in my gut that tells me, whatever's going on, we won't figure it out until it's too late." He smirks and hefts his trident. "Let's just hope there's something we can stab."

When -- and if --they're ready to move on, Rath adds, "So. Anybody think there's more to this old shaman than meets the eye?"

Inas stares at the lizards, curious to observe whether they stare back or otherwise seem aware of his existence.

Marissa also studies the dead cat, and says, "Either the beast was in great pain, caused maybe by some form of poison, or its mind was affected in some unnatural way. I would hesitate to play with the lizards, Aldo, Inas, lest they be the vehicles of the poor kitty's demise."

Suddenly there was a commotion in the shallow-hulled skiff.  Folke stumbled backward and sat down hard in the craft, his fallen pole clattering across the gunwale.  The troubadour's eyes were wide with fear and his hands clawed at his throat, as though trying to remove an unseen noose that choked off his breath. His face flushed as he continued to struggle and his legs began to thrash about in panic, threatening to dump them all into the murky waters of the swamp.