[The Sulphur’s Spit]

Cela’s grave warning hung heavily over the party as they gathered in The Sulphur’s Spit. The tavern clamored with frantic activity, as the villagers filled the tables, and Bathsheba barked orders to her staff. Excited chatter could be heard outside, but tonight was different. Every single man or woman in the Spit was more sober than a Cleric of Ilmater! News of Baleful Blackfang’s attack spread through Deadwater, and no one wanted to miss the emergency town meeting.

“Push the large tables together! That’s for our War Council.” Sheila ordered a few men to move the furniture. She looked at the spectators with an impatient frown. “Look, you’re welcome to attend the meeting. If you’re not working, though, keep out of our way! And you’ll not interrupt our meeting with any idle chatter! Wait until we open the floor for you!” Laredon added, “Don’t worry, Miss Sheila. Anyone with a mind for foolishness will find themselves warming the cell next to Benny!”

Seats at the table were prepared for everyone who faced the Dragon. All the town Healers worked diligently to heal any lingering injuries. A flurry of prayers, potions, Well water, and innate magic healed the wounds of many. Lenelle, Sprinkle, Telric, Sheila, Sundos, & Mercion wore themselves out, but desperation kept them too agitated to rest. None of them intended to miss the meeting, either. The Baron sent Michael Stuart, his most trusted aide to hear the party’s plans. Michael was a younger man in his late 20’s who stood tall and broad-shouldered, his face the sculpted coolness of a Nobleman, but his bearing that of a seasoned soldier.

Soon, the Sheriff brought the meeting to order. “You all know what happened earlier tonight. Some of you suffered in that accursed dragon’s attack. Many of us are old enough to remember the last time we dealt with a Black Dragon. Only the quick thinking of these heroes who’ve already done so much for Deadwater saved us from annihilation.” Laredon faced the heroes who sat at the Council tables. “You have already helped us so much, but we need your help again.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:53, Tue 08 Feb 2022.

Sprinkle sat at the table, awkwardly carrying two plates of the special of the day and 2 mugs of the local ale, before setting one of the meals in front of the seat to her right, reserving it for Tempest. She had chosen the location to put her sister nearer to the head as she knew how attention grabbing she could be in matters of war. And war this was going to be. Her burned skin was healing nicely, the lighter blue of the wounds would fade over time. She didn't intend to let that monster do harm again. Addressing herself to the man at the head, she nodded to Simon.

We were brought here to help, and help we shall. I have a score to settle with that shark's bait.

I propose we start where Azatch was killed. Seth, could you lead us there?

Gone was the slightly goofy cleric... there was work to be done and she could be as forceful as Tempest, when she wanted to.

Taking a sip of her ale, she touched her armor and casted mending, to fix the burned links. Tempest's armor would also get the same treatment... there was no time to indulge in her sister's time consuming endeavor. Even Tara's robe would benefit from her spell.

Tara was quite pleased with the repairs to her clothes, but this was a time for careful action, certainly.

"We must be ready in case of attack," said Tara.  "The beast might well swoop down on us from above again.  Let's be sure we don't line up and give him such an easy feast as all of us at once, this time."

Tempest entered the room, her pack with her shield strapped to it. Placing it in a corner, she went to the owner. "A room for myself and my sister please." She sees the movement of the tables and goes over, unstrapping her sword she placed her gear on the wall nearest her and sits as her sister places the food and ale down, nodding to her sister.

At the asking of help, she nodded as her sister spoke. "We will help."

She listened to Tara and spoke. "Is this the first time tho dragon has come here?" She took a sip of ale, and looking at it, nodded with approval., but then looked at Seth. "You said your kind have a connection to them...can you explain?"

Beijor walked directly to his room in the Spit, casting off his armor and destroyed shirt, and deciding on a sleeveless tunic with a purple sash for the rest of the evening.

He carried his bandore into the common room and set himself up near but not at the table. He could play quietly enough to not disturb anyone, though his tunes would be simple enough not to require his full attention; he was interested in what these folks had to say, after all.

Sskith blinked his eyes slowly at Sprinkle's request.

"I will lead you there, but traveling at night is dangeroussss. The Vutha's eyess pierce the darknessss, he could strike ussss from on high."

Fighting a Dragon out in the open was the surest path to a quick death. Fighting one at night, when it could strike at them well outside the range of their torches? That was so much worse. They could keep to the densest parts of the brambles and trees, and whisper words to the Matriarchs that it was enough. He paused at Tempest's question, knowing that he had long past chosen the path from which there would be no return. He took a long breath, and he spoke.

"Sesskrith the Divine issss, or wasss, the Patron God of my people. We were hisss warriorssss, his Chosen."

He gestured to the small Dragon at his side, which hissed at the crowd.

"Thissss is an Echo of Sesskrith, an Echo of me."

They would not know the pride with which he said that, or what it meant. It would not matter.

"I came here to sssit at the feet of your Matriarchssss, and hear the storiesss they would tell of Sesskrith. Inssssstead, I found only signsss of his passsssing, and of what he hasss left behind."

A Hatchling, twisted by fey magics into a weapon the Hags could use against Deadwater.

[The Sulphur's Spit]

Simon trailed the rest of the group into the Sulphur's Spit. He reached out to Nimbus, [Telepathy: Watch the direction where the dragon laired, and warn me if it approaches.]

When he entered and saw the tables and the many locals gathered around them, he groaned inwardly. Nonetheless, he was famished and needed to eat.

"Bathsheba," he calls to the tiefling, "dinner please, and a mug of tea."

The warlock takes a seat at the Council table, but he sits at the far end. Laredon's request for help was as expected. As was the affirmative responses from his companions.

Simon's eye brow rises slightly as Seth revealed his relation to Baleful's ancestor. ~Very brave...or very stupid!~ he thought to himself.

"I don't believe," the warlock pauses as he confirms which twin spoke, "Sprinkle...was suggesting we leave immediately, as you are no doubt correct Seth, travelling the swamp in the dark would be foolhardy.

There is reason to believe there is a tunnel near the hag's tree leads to the dragon's lair. That seems like the logical place to start our hunt, in the light of day."

Simon takes a sip from his mug, and then looks down the length of the table, "Mister Stuart, what assistance is Baron Lederborn planning on providing?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:33, Wed 09 Feb 2022.

[The Sulphur's Spit]

Having finally regained control of himself after the dragon's attack, his literal death, subsequent resurrection, and then the terror of being in the dragon's presence, Grog entered the tavern. Though the healing magics he had received had sealed wounds and removed pain, patches and swaths of his fur had been burned away and not restored, and some scarring had settled into his skin as well, making him a more dreadful sight to behold than he had been previously. Discussions were already underway, so he quietly went to get food and drink. His large hands made it easy to carry two plates of food and 2 mugs of the local ale, then he went to find a seat opposite the water-woman who had grasped his spirit by the throat and forced it back into his body. He set the plates and mugs down in front of him, hoping a light snack and a thirst quencher might help to alleviate some of the lingering pain.

He wasn't dead for long, yet death had changed him still. His outlook on the world had shifted somewhat. His priorities, too. He had died standing still. Doing nothing. It was nearly the most worthless and pointless death he could imagine. Things would need to be different in this new life. Grog looked up from his meal, at the exotic creature sitting opposite him; the one who had given him this new life. ~Yeah. Different.~ Grog drank half of one of the mugs of ale, then dug around in his pack for a jug that he then pulled out and poured into the mug until it was full once more.

Grog was going to see this dragon dead one way or another. He wasn't smart, but he, ~Hmm. Ale mix good.~ Grog set his mug down with a refreshing, "Ahh," and then made a simple statement, "Acid is problem. Stop acid, maybe live. Not, maybe not."

tepest listened to the tactics going around, little more than hunches as she listened. Looking at the group, she spoke. "My sister and i have not been on teh surface much, so our knoledge of your dragons are limited.  We know this one favors acid, something my sister and i are naturally resistant to. But, you all do not have this as our..." she frowned as she looked at Grog. "...cow-man friend here has pointed out. To fight a dragon, we need every advantage, so sneaking in half-chickened isn't going to help us."

She looked around. "My specialty back home was tactics....to help i need to know what this thing can do - can it cast magic, or call fourth anything other than acid.  I also need to know what each of you can do."

Sprinkle nodded to Tempest words then gratified the crowd with her brightest smile.

But we do have a means to counter the acid now. Telric and Tara developed a salve that will protect from acid, for some time. Used judiciously, it would negate some of the sting that overgrown flying fish has.

Her smile faded somewhat.

It will still hurt, don't get me wrong, I would prefer to swim in the middle of an angry stingrays mating melee than to face that breath again. But it will help.

Turning to Seth she said in her watery voice.

I was not suggesting to go tonight. I, we, don't see in the dark very well. And I need to replenish my strength, casting that resurrection spell took a lot out of me. But first light would be good, we don't want him to lick his wounds too much.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:32, Wed 09 Feb 2022.

Unlike a number of the others, War was foreign to Lenelle Toreth.

In the place she'd grown up, it had been the better part of a century since the last one, owing to Gold Veil's location and its tight allegiance with the duchy of which it was part.   It had never been more than either history or fable in her life, certainly nothing she'd ever needed to think about in other than an academic sense.

She was out of her depth, as far as strategizing for one went.   But that being the case or no, she would still put in her thoughts where she felt they might be relevant:

"Are we counting on the fact that the dragon is injured, and will stay put for a time?   Because one thing comes first to my mind ---  the vulnerability of Deadwater, and its people.    If I were this dragon, I would not sit out in the swamp, waiting for us to come finish it off.    I'd probably marshal my forces to meet us en route, then just fly over that battle, and attack the town.   Seth has told us over and over just how devious this creature is.  I believe him! I've a hard time imagining it being a sitting duck, therefore.    But...there is the tunnel that Simon mentions, which might be the key to avoiding anything like that.   Are we assuming the dragon is ignorant of the tunnel?" She looked to Simon.

"Is that possible, Simon?  It could truly be a godsend, if so. But if so, then time is of the essence, before it heals enough to take action.   If we journey through a tunnel, then night or day should make no difference, right?"    Whereupon she glanced toward Seth as well.

"Though there would be travel time to reach it.  But I believe more than myself knows the spell of invisibility?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:40, Wed 09 Feb 2022.

"Made with the essential assitance of Lady Sprinkle, of course." Telric tipped his headdress in her direction. "And she is also right about needing rest. My staff is nearly out of power, and won't be of much use without about 8 hours rest. Not to mention I have about one more use of Higgins before he powers down.

I should say I may not have invisibility, but I do have the ability to rip a dimensional hiding place that lasts about an hour. The wizards call it rope trick. It might be useable by someone with invisibility in order to hide the rest of the group."

Beijor struck a loud discordance on his bandore and spoke up for the first time.

"As our Mistress Icicle can attest," with a wink at Tempest, "I have a delightful talent for grasping others' attention and making it very difficult indeed for others to pull themselves away. I wouldn't worry about Bluntfang passing over us; dragons' egos are invariably their most vulnerable spot.

"Then again... I am born of wood and stream and more at home there than I am within these walls. And who knows what fae spirits dwell in the hagwood that may ask me to frolic and willingly aid our purpose? Perhaps I should bivouac abroad to keep an eye out for our ebony antagonist while you recuperate; my new saurian companion can join me. How far away did you all say this tree was?"

He began to play but got no further than a measure when he stopped as if realizing something. "Besides, I might be safer out there, lest I cause other proud and fierce creatures take an interest in violence against my delicate person." Another wink and a sly kiss for Tempest.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:33, Wed 09 Feb 2022.

[The Sulphur’s Spit]

Lord-lieutenant Stuart watched the strangers dominate the conversation with a shrewd arch of an eyebrow. Finally, he spoke up in a deep baritone pleasing to the ears. “The Baron’s priority is the safety of this Barony and her people. He remains convinced that dealing with the Lizardfolk problem will coincide with a resolution for the Dragon problem. Of course, the soldiers conscripted to protect His Lordship must remain in the village to ensure his safety.”

Lord-lieutenant Stuart’s mouth twitched slightly when he said so. “However, I am allowed discretion in how I dispense his orders. I also traveled the Realm enough to know an Artificer when I see one. Meet with me before your march. I have something that should correct your imbalance of power with the accursed Dragon.”

“I am certain that we will gratefully accept whatever aid you might offer, Lord-Lieutenant,” Mercion said with a polite smile. “As for those who travel to face Baleful Blackfang, I recommend a night’s rest. Telric reminds us that several of us need rest for our Gifts to fully function. We cannot afford to face a Dragon at less than peak health and power.”

"I think the bard is writing a song about it if you need to know.

Some here can't see in the dark, either.  No use getting lost in the swamp traveling in the dark.  Spending the night to rest and recover makes sense."

“Cela, as ever, you bring a pragmatic voice to our conversation.” Sundos spoke from his place beside Mercion. “Like me, she is also seasoned in warfare. Whatever we decide, I would recommend you all heed her counsel, too.”

He looked at Stuart. “If I remain behind, I can rally the watchmen into an organized defense. We need not be utterly helpless should the wicked Beast return.”

Sskith's eyes narrowed at the words "Lizardman problem," but he held his forked tongue.