True to Inas' word, it takes just under two hours for the companions to make the overland trek along the semblance of a trail, through marsh and bog toward the village of Rush Hollow. The trip might have been even quicker without the burden of makeshift litters to carry the fallen, but the ranger guides the party true to minimize the amount of backtracking due to impassable marsh.

Fen, marsh and mire soon yield to a densely wooded upland swamp dominated by yawning mangrove, bald cypress, water tupelo, black gum and stunted pine trees. And, the ever-present Witches Moss: a fast growing veil which resembles spider webs that drapes over nearly every tree.

The smell of smoked fish wafts through the air and the sounds of civilization mix with the ambient noises of the swamp as Rush Hollow comes into view.

A low palisade surrounds the entire village, which consists of perhaps three score wood and thatch cottages huddled in tight clusters here or there and several sprawling platforms in the canopy above. Rush Hollow appears like it is caught in a time long past, especially when compared against the modern spectacle that is Stormhaven.

In fact, a secretive clan of elves once dwell at this spot, the tree-platforms remnants of these denizens' craft, but for unknown reasons, the elves left this spot. The village now consists mostly of humans, half-elves, halflings, and a even a few half-orc families. None of its original elven residents are around to answer the riddle of why they left in the first place and nobody seems to care much.

Whatever the case, Rush Hollow is an out-of-way village that exists both as a place for people to disappear to and more importantly, to capitalize on the excellent fishing to be had nearby. Fishermen here can make a good living crabbing and catching hammer-mouth catfish: both of which are highly sought by discriminating Stormhavian fish-mongers.

Locals eye the companions both warily and with varying degrees of interest as the group approaches. A few dogs bark here or there, but otherwise the heroes are given a wide berth, if not interested stares. It was not out of the question that Althea, one of the Chieftain's brides, had already shared news of their heroism. In a town like this, word spread quickly.

Near the center of the village, The Toothless Troubadour beckons...
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:47, Tue 20 Aug 2013.

As much as he is a child of Stormhaven, Ben felt a kindred spirit in the town of Rush Hollow, if not so much the people, at least not yet.

"Aye, look up there!" he said, gesturing to the houses in the trees. "I wonder if anyone lives in those."

Wrapping one camaraderie-filled (and muck covered) arm around Saliq, he of the much punctured foot, Ben grabbed the casters face and planted a big wet kiss on the cheek. "Maybe this time I'll get to kiss the real thing, eh?, ha ha!!!"  The victorious hero made his grand entrance, glancing about with curiosity and an eagerness born of his most recent escape from yet another near-death experience.

Exuberant and boisterous, Ben was clearly thrilled to be out of the wild swamp and into the urban swamp that was Rush Hollow...

Saliq did not appreciate the kiss (or the arm) but despite himself it was hard not to smile at the thief's good humour.

"Stranger things have happened my friend."

Turning back to the town he studied it with interest. Compared to Stormhaven or his own birthplace of Al Alayai Herat it was a tiny, ramshackle place but one infinitely preferable to the swamp and ziggurat.

Despite carrying a litter, Eagle has enjoyed the walk through the marsh, his eyes wide open, with the Witches moss of particular fascination. Though unlike his companions, his spirit visibly shrinks as they approach the village; suddenly he feels hemmed in in an inhospitable place, feeling the weight of the curious stares from the villagers. 'These are your people, right?' he asks Inas nervously, his insecurity showing through, though he raises a smile as the dishelved thief's antics with Saliq. 'Let us find a place to dispose of these bodies, and then get some rest,' he suggests to no-one in particular, assuming Inas will take the lead.

"No," Rath looks around, distracted. "No, they really haven't." Despite his light-hearted words, Rath's mouth and eyes are set grimly as he squints around the village. Reed Hollow has the look of a place where people go to not be found; and so, of course, Rath wonders if he'll run into anyone he knows.

He adjusts his grip on the litter and looks around for anything that looks like a graveyard in this swampy town, or a temple. A place dedicated to Kord, for Duvall's sake, would be too much to expect.

Norion trudges through the marsh with a grim almost angry demeanor.  Though surviving the recent battles, he can't enjoy the success carrying the dead through bug infested swamp.   At least it wasn't sunny.  When he sees Rush Hollow he is only mildly relieved,  at least the elves were gone.  He is curious to see how those treehouses are built.  But first a room and something to eat and drink.