4:30 PM Moonday, 10th of Lamashtan, 4710

The path to Morast was a narrow, winding trail that nevertheless provided a relatively safe path through the shadowy depths of the Dipplemire swamp.  The trip was fairly uneventful, though the amount of clawed tracks and bear feces crossing the path kept it from being an entirely comfortable trip.  The pace set by the party was punishing, but allowed them to reach the tiny village with the sun still high up in the sky.

Morast itself was a miserable collection of 20 or so wattle-and-daub hovels, standing on stilts above the swamp and connected by soggy boardwalks.  Tiny fishing coracles float next to the boardwalks, laden with spears, nets, and other fishing gear.

The people of Morast themselves seem like an unusual sort.  Though clad in ratty clothes and reeking of poverty, the swampers seem uniformly strong and healthy, with broad shoulders, ruddy complexions, and mouths full of large, healthy teeth.  What's more, everyone seemed to have the same strangely proportioned faces:  Bulging, watery eyes and wide, thin-lipped mouths marked the features of everyone the party met on the way into town.

The party was quickly directed to Lazlo, the village elder.  The old man had the same broad build and fishlike face as the rest of his people, and was busy skinning a red scaled crocodile when the party found him.  As they approached, he looked up and spat a slimy glob of swampweed onto the boardwalk, then pointedly ignored them and returned to his work.

Kara seems utterly out of place in the swamp. The pale girl is dressed in fine clothes, with hands that lack calluses and skin that would burn in the sun. She looks like she belongs in a noble's solar, not out in the dirt and muck of the swamp village. But she doesn't seem uncomfortable about it. She smiles often on the trip, laughs never, and doesn't seem upset by the grueling pace - though she is sweating heavily.

Once there, she looks at Lazlo and nods politely. She rather doubts it will work, but she'll try polite first. "Good afternoon, sir. May we have a moment of your time?"

The village of Morsat was familiar to the Livi. She hadn't personally been here before but her work as a healer in training had brought her to plenty of other tiny little settlements. It had always amazed her how similar they all could be, although each place had it's own little unique charms. Unfortunately for Livi the unique thing for this village seemed to be the foul smell of a swamp.

By the time they had arrived the shaman had found herself exhausted. She was no stranger to the outdoors but she had keenly felt the weight of her armor as they had travelled the countryside. Before they had entered the village proper Livi had called everyone to pause. "Best to heal us before we meet the residents. Some of them do not approve of magic even if it benefits them," she remarked. She gathered everyone together before she focused her magic. A small pulse of positive energy swept over them to heal their fatigue.

As they were ushered to the village leader Livi stayed behind Lady Sweetwater. The shaman intended to let the noblewoman take the lead in the discussion.

OOC: Channel Energy Used - 1/6
19:45, Today: Liviana Preda rolled 3 using 1d6.  Channel Energy: Heal.

"Fuck off, city-girl." The village elder's voice was rough and unfriendly, and punctuated with another stream of his foul-smelling chew.  "If you wanna gawk and gab about the worst thing ever happened to me, you gotta wait till tomorrow like everyone else."