The argument between Beijor and Tempest charged the air like lightning in a storm. Jennet attempted to defuse the verbal altercation, but his joke went awry. Another disagreement brewed quietly over whether the group should press on, or take short rest to recover from their fight with the Froghemoth. Although a short battle, it was a harrowing one that nearly ended tragically for Sprinkle.

A deeper tension ran underneath the surface. Newer members had joined the party, and some who’d traveled longer with the party wondered how this would impact them. Lenelle silently pondered this question. For the moment, the questions were delayed as the group set up camp for a short rest. For now, they needed rest.

---

"... regret?" the elf asked, his curiosity piqued.

"To take leave of the present and dwell on things lost? To lament how such a pass came to be? Such untasted sentiment would be an adventure! Perhaps together we'll travel down that road for the first time, hand in hand, you and I." The bandore swung around to his front and he struck a chord. "But not just now, dearest."

His long fingers picked through a descending minor scale resolving on a G-flat vibrato. His voice joined in harmony, chanting softly.

  "Lay down upon feathers
    Rushes, or reed
    Soft respite from riotous
    rigorous deed.
    For soon again soon again
    striving commence
    'gainst hideous harrowing
    draconid meanace.

   All by one's self
    or two pair'd by two
    Thou mortals' composure
    seek thee renew.
    But imprudent judgment
    and folly eschew,
    No matter puissance
    with which thou subdued:

   Find'eth not chaise chamois
   Within toad's toothed maw."

The lullaby ended, the elf stood, and re-slung his instrument. "Rest well, darlings. While you do I will beg of the woodsy realm to hasten our feet to our quarry and find no snares not of our own making."

With that he turned and lightly skipped off into the foliage, feeling at home under green eaves as he ever did.

---

OOC:
Song of Rest. All PCs gain +1d6HP upon a short rest.

Grog stood guard outside the camp, eyes focused on the direction they knew the dragon's lair to be. The large, silvered glaive resting across one or both of his shoulders as he shifted from one stance to another. The infighting was understandable with tensions high. Pointless, but understandable. Beijor was trying to harvest fruit without tending the seed, while Tempest was ready to tear out the strawberry bushes for not bearing fruit in their first season. Patience in life was not an easy lesson for some to learn.

Grot himself was lacking in patience, in regards to facing the dragon, but the dragon was a source of danger, and Grog had left the farm and taken up a weapon because there were threats that needed dealt with, and people who needed protection from them. Grog was certain there would be other funerals to attend in his future, but he wished no more of them to be at the hands of this foul, winged beast.

Beijor's choice of lyrics were beyond Grog's comprehension. his grasp of the language being weak, but he could appreciate a sound whether he understood the words and meaning or not. It helped to pass the time a bit, short though it was.

Sskith had seen the working of shadow, but had otherwise been engaged with Lanelle, and had not heard most of the quarrel.

Neither he nor his shadow had been touched by the false god, and so as the others rested he took out one of his long knives and began carving away at its hide. The skin was too soft and rubbery for his purpose, but the bones beneath would need to be strong to support such a massive thing. He would make himself a trophy worthy of the name while they rested.

At his side, his echo was vigilant, watching the sky for any trace of the Dragon's return.

Making a shield out of the Froghemouth's bones with my racial feature.  It says I can make Javelins, can we include arrows in that? That's basically a Javelin, right?

Cela cleans the swamp off of her fur and takes a little nap during the song.  She isn't hurt but... you take the chances for rest you can get in between battles like this.

Telric made sure to share the pipeweed to anyone who wanted. Granted it was not powerful enough to disable anyone, but it might put the group in a more friendly mood. Or not, as it was not magic, just nature. He is very interested into making the creature's organs and blood into useful potions, but that would take time.

OOC-What could I make out of the frogmouth's organs? Some sort of strength potion?

Telric and Tara both realized that not only could Seth strip the Froghemoth’s body for weapons, but they could also customize the weapons. The most rudimentary function would be shields, javelins, or darts made from the bones. With a little extra care, body parts such as the hide could be crafted into studded leather armor that provided resistance to fire or lightning damage. The stomach lining could produce a cape or tent that endowed resistance to acid. The tentacles and tongue could be adapted into powerful whips.

The ambitious artificer or spellcaster could craft exotic items from a Froghemoth body. It’s eyes could be brewed into a Potion of Darkvision. The monster’s slime could ultimately produce up to 8 Vials of Oil of Slipperiness! Telric envisioned the value for the party, or the profit he could earn selling such valuable goods!

Tara explained to the others what they could do with the froghemoth's remains.

"...which leads me to be hopeful about the dragon," she added.  "It may, in itself, be as great a treasure in its body as it might from its horde, should it have such a thing."

Sprinkle had enjoyed the silent presence of Tara while she was looking in her book. She had tried to read what was written in it, but had only gained a headache of the endeavor, so she had closed her eyes. The movement of the wizard raising got her to look where she was going and she looked at the froghemont after her lecture, impressed that such an unatural creature could have so many uses.

---

Today: Sprinkle rolled 1 using 1d6.  song of rest HP.

Sskith blinked slowly as Tara spoke, chipping away at the bones of the thing and fashioning a shield.

"Take the ssstrrength, that isssss what the Matriarchssss teach."

He rasped, loud enough for her to hear. His hand passed over the arrows in his quiver, half of which were fletched with brilliant onyx scales rather than feathers.

"Scalessss harder than iron, power in the blood."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:39, Thu 07 Apr 2022.

Tempest watched as the elf sang his song then left the area.  She had no feelings for the elf either way...She was glad the fool was gone, though she did hope he survived out there (she may have disliked him, but she didn't want him dead)

As Tara told them about what could be made, she raised an eyebrow. "Thats pretty clever Tara."

Telric was writing notes about every thing that could be made from the creature.

"At the very least we can make some money off that thing. Assuming our dragon is the poorest version of it's kind and has nothing. Might explain why it's so nasty..." He mused.

Simon finished his sketch, and added various notes about its approximate size, and added some of the comments that Tara and Telric had made about possible uses for it body parts.

He showed the completed drawing to Lenelle, and laughed, "Perhaps I should offer this to the Baron to hang in his dining hall!"

Looking around, he asked out loud, "Are we ready to move on?"

Tempest, ever the warrior, shield in hand, nodded, and looked at Grog, probably the only one more eagre to face this dragon than her. "After you, big guy."

"Mmm, now is time," hefting the weapon over his shoulder to march, Grog returned to the trail toward the protection of innocents.

Sprinkle was surprised how time had flied and when the group decided to move, she had to scramble to put her repaired armor on, wincing from her freshly healed but still tender rib. Twisting this way and that to slip the chain shirt over her head, she caught her hairs in a few of the links and whelped when some got ripped from her head. Finally managing to position the armor correctly on her body, she took her pack and her shield, ready to go.

But she started the walk massaging her head where the hairs had been pulled out.

Tempest, with her warrior training, knew how to don and doff armor (quickly if need be), and had a smile while her sister put hers on. While they walked, she slowed to let her catch up. "You think the little one likes bald spots sis?" The warrior smiled

Tara attempted to help Sprinkle with her armor... a bit tricky, as she wasn't very familiar with it.  At least she wasn't truly of the Fey, so the iron wasn't an issue for her.

"All right," she said.  "Let's do this.  If that thing flies at us, I have a trick to bring it down that might work once, if we're lucky."

Lenelle laughed merrily at that; in a way she hadn't since...well, since yesterday, at least.

"Aye!  Better, I think it should adorn his coat of arms!"

Mostly just grateful no one had gotten eaten, or maimed, she took stock of her possessions, tightened a strap here & there, and then made ready to go, once that was the collective decision.

"The path before usssss."

Sskith said, the expression somewhat lost in translation. He led the way, and to any with eyes to see it, it was clear that he was an expert tracker. He managed to always keep them to the driest bits of trail, keeping them well away from the mud which squelched and sucked at them. His attunement to the land seemed almost supernatural, or else guided by wisdom well in excess of what his lean frame might suggest. Perhaps he was older that he appeared, it was hard to say with such an alien physiology. Whatever it was, he was. masterful hunter, and their journey was made infinitely easier by his guidance.


Woo, nat 20! Indulging a bit.

18:11, Today: Seth Sskith rolled 30 using 2d20+10, dropping the lowest dice only.  Survival + Favored Enemy + Favored Terrain. –

Once the group finished resting, they broke camp and resumed their journey. Telric & Tara—and any experts interested—harvested ample amounts of Froghemoth for future opportunity. They would craft potions, oils, armor, and weaponry from the massive body. The Bullywug watched them leave and sent them off with a friendly wave of his webbed hand.

Soon, Seth scented blood particles of the Baleful Blackfang. Seth knew the smell intimately because of his own tribe’s ordeals with dragons. Echo flew ahead with a squeak, while Gwyl & Nimbus hovered protectively over their own masters. The mosquitoes nipped at the heroes, but Sheila’s salve kept them at bay when used. Although the heady swamp air weighed upon them, their mission held greater weight. They passed on, following Seth in a direction everyone but the twins recognized: the Hag’s oak tree.

Simon laughed out loud. "Indeed, the good baron would be well-represented by a large toad that was more bluster than bite!"

As the party moved forward, Simon walked next to Lenelle, they had been through a lot in the past weeks...would this be the last foray into the unknown, together?

The warlock didn't speak, but enjoyed the calm that the sorceress exuded.

[Telepathy: Nimbus, fly a ways ahead of us, and let me know if you see the dragon.]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:16, Sun 10 Apr 2022.

Tempest heard the chatter, and not knowing the baron, had no comment on the man. But, judging from reactions, she assumed he was less a man of influence and more of ego.

Tempest let Serth lead, and saw his change in demeanor as they came near the place. She drew her sword, ready for what would come