Ahhhh! A restful kip in muddy bog water, that is exactly what I needed to break this dreadful humdrum routine of cleanliness I find myself stuck in.
When Gar comes round from whatever the spell of the Lizardman’s was that rendered him and Megra unconscious, Kish tries to convince him that he defeated the illusionary serpent, I think Kish has been acting in an increasingly eccentric manner since we entered the swamp. Until a cause reveals itself, I’m going to put her behaviour down to the Elven inability to adapt to radically different situations.
Once we’ve dusted ourselves off Kish insists that we follow the the Lizard men that we aided into the mangrove to talk to them, she seems to think that we’ve made a sufficiently good impression on them, that following them from the scene of a battle wouldn’t been seen as hostile. It takes all of us saying “no!” to change her mind; she’s normally better at reading situations than this, it’s why she’s being trained in negotiation.
With deeper analysis of the logs from The Dancing Jane we have found reference to a camp which some of the sailors made about two days rowing up the northern river branch, a camp at which they were beset by what sound worryingly like Will-o’-the-Wisps. From this camp they travelled inland and found the hut of some kind of Hag or Witch, but it descends into recounting the raving nature of the crewman’s report, rather than its contents.
Towards evening, and quite some distance up river, we locate the ruins of the sailor’s camp, the rotten skeleton of their launch lying broken and discarded on the bank. A little inland into a stand of scrub be find the remains of a burnt out camp-fire, and the risen skeletons of two of the crew, Gar bids them flee in the name of Vadomer and they comply with alacrity. This leaves the rest of us to deal with what I’m going to call a ‘Mud-Zombie’ that rose from the water behind the boats, these things are tough customers, and disgusting to-boot.
It is late and we decide that making camp a little way inland should protect us from discovery.
With Kish under a Blessing of Watchfulness we make camp, and try to dry off around the rather meagre fire we can kindle from this damp swamp wood. Myself and Shelly take the watches at the dark of night. Before my watch I continue Kish’s archery lessons, thankfully there is a good number of sticks about in the gorse, so I don’t loose any arrows.
During Shelly’s watch they notice the tell-tale glow of Will-O’-The-Wisps trying to lure us off deeper into the mangrove. As Elves both Kish and Shelly are almost immune to the Wisps hypnagogic power.
More of the Murder and Strife worshipping lizard men attack us during the night, we dispatch them with what is becoming a practised technique sustaining only one casualty, the boat which Kish bought. Having been gummed by toads a few days earlier, it was finally seen to by a groggy lizard man with an axe.
Two of the lizard man warriors are led off into the mangrove by the Wisps, it would have been three or maybe four, my attention was occupied at the time, but Megra decided to engage them in hand-to-hand combat, apparently strangling one of them as it was unresisting in its dazed state. Now it would appear fully half the women on this trip are behaving irrationally, perhaps the swamp has some quality which impinges upon the sanity of the fairer sex; more evidence will be needed before I broach the subject with the others, I don’t think an unsubstantiated hypothesis of gender specific madness would be terribly well received.
- Will-O’-The-Wisps; vacated the area.
- Lizard Men; dead, fled, or lead away by Wisps.
- Kish; seems to be getting the concept of not pining the bow stave into one’s face.
The way is open for sleep I think; onwards deeper into the mangrove tomorrow, to find the “hag” mentioned in the log. That should be fantastic jolly fun.
Your Humble Servant