"Thanks.  To both of you."  Cela straps on her pack.  The outside of it has a coil of rope and a Javelin designed for throwing, the only visible weapon she carries.  Any training she's done while aboard hasn't involved weapons - or armor as Sundos has noted.

"Amara, do you have a list of supplies you need?

Cela’s question proved timely, as Amara stood near the ship’s master carpenter. “Elias tells me that we need more canvas and ropes for the sails. If you find oakum, that would help, too. We’re using the last of ours to seal any weak points in the hull.” Amara stared at a point on the ship with a concerned frown. “We’ve lost our spare planks in the storm. Elias and his apprentice can cut down trees, but if there’s a carpenter in that town willing to part with his wood, I could spare the gold for that, too.”

Amara worked up a list for Cela. “I appreciate your practical mind, Cela. It’s come in handy for The Swanmay before, and it will help her again now. Here’s my list.”

Supplies

250 feet of rope (5 gp)
50 feet of oakum (2 gp)
4 buckets of pitch (6 gp)
Cart (15 gp)
Canvas, 6 large bolts (45 gp)
Carpenter’s tools (8 gp)
Draft Horse (50 gp—unless you find a good mule to save $)
Planks of wood, 20 (20 gp)
 

Cela accompanied Amara into the Captain’s cabin for the supply funds. Cela practically heard Amara’s teeth grind as she parted with 155 gold pieces! “Here’s the money for supplies. This should be enough. I included 4 extra gold for any food...or a bribe, if the locals prove unfriendly.” Amara looked at Cela for a beat. “If you or the honey-blonde honeypot out there can talk any merchants into a lower price, I’ll sweeten your payment when you return.”

Cela detaches the coil of rope from her bag.  "No sense carrying this all the way to town and bringing it back.". It won't cover all of what's needed but it's a start.

Amara flicked one gold coin at Cela with a grin. “You have 154 gold pieces for funds.” Then, she rummaged through cabinets and chests for an array of items. As she grabbed vials, scrolls, and a gem, she stuffed these into a small bag. “I intended to pay these bonuses at the end of your contracts, but you’re getting an early bonus this year.”

She beckoned at Cela. “Let’s go upstairs and assemble the party, then. Azatch is a local, and he’ll guide you to Deadwater. Like you, Sundos served in the army. He’s a talented healer, and he’s not a complainer when it comes to long marches. I think I’ll send Lenelle, too. She’s a healer, too, and I think she has a few surprises ready for any beasts or brigands that try it with you.”

As they returned to the deck, the Captain watched the crew and stared thoughtfully. “Hmm. Simon should join you. He’s clever, and also handy in a fight because the enemy underestimates him on first sight. Take the Minotaur, too. You’ll need the extra muscle. I’m not sure about the airy-fairy blonde. I know she joined up with Simon & Sundos, but I don’t know if she’s the adventurous sort. Take her or leave her as you will.”

Amara's request to 'take the minotaur' appears to be non-optional to anyone watching him finish preping the gear he had never worn the entire boat trip.  The familiarity with his equipment would be obvious to anyone familiar to adventurers, and the many repairs done notable to anyone keen to such details.

Once his second rune was finished, he unrolled the chain mesh that was the leggings to his chainmail. They clasp on the back rather then the front to accommodate his brown fuzzy tail, and have a random added clasp on the right knee, along with fitted clasps at the ankles to hold the armor in its proper place.  The back clasp tightens snugly enough to not need the attached belt that clasps at the side, with various adjustable loops for his things a bit large for strapping to his pack.  Grog's smithing hammer fits quite nicely on there.

His chain shirt makes it obvious this armor was adapted to fit him rather then made for him with a sequence of clasps down the front (with some overlap) to allow him to toss it on like a jacket, skipping his head.  Similar clasps for his wrists match his ankle clasps, but allow his large hands to fit through with ease before tightened.  His bag has an additional diagonal shoulder strap with a loose and worn fastener that his glaive is barely held on with.

Finally pulling up the jug of ale he'd been brewing up this trip so far, he glances at the swamp before attaching the jug's leather strap to a well-placed fastener at the extent of his blind reach backwards on his pack.  The jug's loose dangling appearing to be quite intentional.  One final set of tugs around various bits, and he was done.

There was a blanket wrapped around the tent strapped to the bottom of his pack... but unused metal loops along the top betraying the current design.  The glaive itself was silvered and well maintained.  The whetstone that took care for it was slightly too big for the side-pocket it was fitted into.

Grog eagerly made his way to depart the ship,  his golden eyes practically sparkling as he noted the thickening trees in the distance. 

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
'No help captain, help self.  New meals fun.'

---

  Should anyone make their way off the boat, Grog would be right behind them.

((OOC: Grog's proper introduction post.  Writing one up always puts me in the mood for an adventure.))

Simon gives his catch to the Cook, puts his pole away and heads back into the knee deep water, grateful his cobbler does waders. "We'd best put a wiggle in it, folks. If Grog gets to a china shop before we do, we might not be able to afford the repair materials we're being sent for."

"Much lighter now."  Cela touches the spot on the pack that used to have the rope.  "If she can keep up, she can come.  Might be helpful when we get to town."

Once the group was assembled, Amara addressed them. She handed Cela and Sundos bags filled with 154 gold pieces for the trip.“Here’s the money you’ll need for the supplies. I’ll say it again. If you can haggle a good price out of the locals, I’ll let you keep the difference. What we’ll pick up in Sembia will make it more than worth it.”

With that said, she reached into the other bag she’d brought. Amara handed Cela a vial filled with a red and black liquid that seemingly smoked from within. Next, she handed Azatch another vial filled with a syrupy looking liquid that bubbled. When she reached into the bag again, she pulled out a slim wand and handed it to Sundos. “If there’s any magic out there, you’ll find it.”

Once more, her hand went into the bag, this time pulling out a small bag carrying what may have been sand. Amara’s eye gleamed impishly as she handed it to Grog. “This might come in handy in a swamp.” When she looked at Lenelle, she reached in and pulled out a small ruby that gleamed with a faint inner light. “If you run into any threat too big for your talents, smash this and pray to whatever gods you worship.”

Amara pulled out two vials of a substance that everyone present recognized from recoveries in old battles. “Potions of Greater Healing.” She handed one apiece to Cela & Lenelle. “I believe in women supporting other women. Take these so you can stay alive if you run into anything worse than mosquitoes and mud.”

Finally, Amara held out a scroll for Simon. “Don’t think I forgot you, cutie. If you’re done catching supper, you might like what’s on this parchment.” All that remained was a single vial, as if she’d hoped for one more volunteer. “Since you’re helping me get my ship back on course, you’ll get your bonuses a little early. I’ve got an extra goody.”.

Amara held up the vial. “Who wants the Potion of Water-Breathing?”

Simon shudders, "I try my best to get fish WITHOUT getting wet. Besides, do you know what fish DO in water? I don't want that in my lungs, thanks."

Grog will take the powder, eyeing it suspiciously.  He'll find it a home in his pack without taking it off.  As the potion was offered, he clearly thought about something regarding the subject as he looked back twords his jug, but said nothing.

Grog would join the others as they left, rather then start out first.  He was keen to stay second in line as they (eventually) followed Azatch's directions twords a destination.  He'd keep his eyes focused twords the water for particular movements.

"I don't want it.  I'll be breathing fire."  Cela holds up the smoking potion, which she carefully places with the healing potion.

Cela doesn't even want the water here on her feet, nevermind being under it.  she thought Grog would volunteer to drink a new thing, but he hasn't said anything, so she won't speak up about it.

Lizardfolk. A lot of people think of them as monsters, whatever that means. More like animals. They don’t have sentimentality so they come off as monsterous. I speak their language, same as the dragons speak, I have heard. In any case, I doubt we’ll happen upon any of them, but it’s possible. Other than that, you know gators, giant lizards. Lizards. Lizards live in swamps. And other swampy stuff.”

He said as if that explained everything.

Azatch took the potion with a nod.

He then looked for the best place to disembark from the vessel and a good path to walk. He also went about trying to determine if they would be able to bring a cart, and to go along the most likely path. It was possible they could only come part way with a cart. Maybe they could rent one and use the difference to hire laborers...

He also kept an eye out for food, he carried his shield and a javelin.

EDIT: I used the wrong color text for speech, confused it with another game, haha.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:35, Wed 07 Apr 2021.

Lenelle took several moments to examine the softly glowing stone she'd been handed, turning it over in her fingers.    "I don't worship any gods, formally speaking," she remarked, as she did.  "But that doesn't mean I don't know that some of them do listen."     Eyes flicking back to the stone, "I shall wrap it, and be very careful not to fall on it," she added.

Her eyes strayed briefly to the sigils painted onto to Grog's armor.  One brow arched faintly in curiosity.   There were times she regretted not being an educated caster.     She would be left to wonder, for now.

Lastly, she approached Azatch.   Half-orc: the other side of the half-breed coin.   Her own life situation had been complicated. She wondered if his had too. Or simpler, but far, far harder.

"So. You're the one knows this place. Rest assured, I'm listening, when you speak."   

Azatch nods matter of factly.

“No takers on the Water-breathing potion?” Amara waggled the vial filled with translucent bluish liquid.

OOC:

Azatch, roll 3 Survival Checks.

 

Sundos took the wand from their captain.  "Thank you, Captain." He tucked it into his pack. He looked at the others. Nobody was going to take the potion of Water Beathing?  "I will take it, Captn." He looked at it and sniffed the bottle near the cork.

"Say, Azatch, how deep can the water get around here?" Wearing the heavy armor, it might be a good idea to have the potion, just in case.

Amara handed Sundos the vial with an approving nod for a display of common sense. When Sundos sniffed the potion, what he smelled reminded him of the sea. An odor of briny foam and seaweed.

Simon squirms a bit in his thigh high wading boots, "We ready yet, folks? These things are water cooled, and my legs are starting to sweat. I need to get them off or back in the swamp water."

OOC: Azatch rolled 21,14,12 using 1d20+3,1d20+3,1d20+3 ((18,11,9)).

Azatch felt pretty confident he knew where they were, as time went by he felt less sure of himself...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Wed 07 Apr 2021.

“You heard him!” Amara waved them off her ship. “Go, get your asses to Deadwater! We’ve got a ship to repair!” She chided them with a laugh, but they didn’t miss the urgent undertone. The Captain worried about her source of income and agency in the world.

Grog is quick to try and assist Simon with his liquid cooling issue.  Shortly after a gentle lift, Amara is quick to suggest otherwise.  "I've already told you that..." Grog, (being Grog,) is easily swayed to (just as gently) put Simon back down on the deck.

Without waiting past setting down Simon,

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
avoiding (ignoring) a scolding,

---

the minotaur will grab a secure point on the boat's edge, and swing himself down with a grace unassuming of his size into the bog below.  Grog is confident he could guess where the people would live based on his own skills, but will happily follow in second stride until the party slows down too much.

After they catch up, he made a slow trek twords whete the trees growing dense to build a little distance.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:41, Wed 07 Apr 2021.

Simon corroborated the Captain’s wishes as he beckoned the group off the ship. Off they jumped, and suffer in sand, or sloshed in murky water if they weren’t sure footed. Simon frowned as one of the companions caught his eye. After a brief discussion, the group started their march through the marshes.

Azatch remembered that they needed to follow the river south. The Half-Orc took the lead and strode with intent I’ve the sandbar. His boots sloshed as he marched briskly, leading the group toward the beginning of woods. The further the group walked from the ship, the thicker the woods grew, marking the beginning of their venture in the fringes of The Vast Swamp.

The first two hours surprised the party with how quickly they passed. A few among them had never seen marshes, and found the stretches of wetland interesting, perhaps even beautiful. The heron gracefully perched on the stump and cleaned its feathers. Far from the ship, a lone crocodile sunned itself on the sand.

As the group made progress into the woods, Azatch stayed his course. His step was less confident as the tree limbs thickened, blotting out more of the sun the further they went. In the fourth hour, the area was almost as dark as the night. Azatch needed all his senses to keep them from losing their way.

Soon, they discovered the unpleasant aspects of the swamp. Bugs constantly flirting around ears, eyes, and nostrils. Too may bit them, which only added to the misery of the swamp’s heat. The air felt thick, like the heavy wing of a dragon covered them in stifling moisture. More frequently, they waded through higher water, sometimes almost chest high to the tallest.

In the fifth hour, Azatch finally lost the trail he’d remembered.

While tries to figure out which way to go, Simon turns to the others,

"Have I ever told you the tale of Hazim al-Hariq? He was a Sheikh of the Burning Embers in his homeland. Young and full of pride and ready to take on the world. But first, of course, would be the requirement, on his majority, of presenting himself to the Sultan, his father, formally, in court.

"And so, off he went to Court to do just that. I know not what adventures befell him, prior to this day of days, for those are his tales to tell, but Fate smiled on him, and his life was happy, by his standards. But something must have happened, because, young as he was, he had managed to make a great enemy at some point. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he was chosen at random from amongst those at Court. Who is to say? well, the Chooser, I suppose, and anyone he might have confided in, but this isn't his tale.

"What I know for certain is that a Mage of great power cast a spell and Hazim was imprisoned in a flask, sealed in tightly and cast into the ocean to be lost forever.

"What was Hazim's Great Crime? I know not. As I said, maybe it wasn't his crime at all, but that of another and he was taken by accident or subterfuge. Or as revenge upon his father, the Sultan, even.

"Hazim's only hope? That Fate once again smiles on him and shortens 'Eternity' to something more managible. But that is a tale for another day."

Azatch considered Simon's story. Then mentally moved on.

"I'll be able to pick the trial up better in the light of day. Bogs have a way of... changing... after floods and such. For now, we better make camp. Let's find somewhere somewhat dry and defensible."

Azatch wondered to himself if he could have taken ADVANTAGE of the Help from his companions and thought maybe next time he would be more vocal about the landmarks he was looking for, such that his companions might help him locate something he recognized. He knew they were miserable, but he knew it would end up fine after a little tribulation.

Azatch looks for a good place to make camp.