"I've got a hundred feet of rope; and I meant they could tie me in after I transform. That said, if we don't have enough rope for two, I can breathe underwater when I'm a crab, and I don't think Angelica can. Anyway, let's decide right now--do this, or wait until tomorrow and use Zaphomil's breathing spell? If we're waiting, it doesn't matter how much rope we have."
"I have 50 feet of silk rope in my bag, if that helps."
Zaph scratches his chin as he thinks. Suddenly, he brightens. "The witch only wanted a few handfuls of the seaweed. Why don't I use the shard's power on Harbug while he's in crab form? He'll be extra quick, and can probably get there and back without any trouble. He might even be able to make a couple trips before the magic wears off!"
Angelica snaps and smiles at Zaph, "Now, that's thinking Zap. We have the rope for one, Buggy can be crabbier than usual." She playfully winks at the orc, "Shard him, and boom, we knock this out in no time, with minimal risk. I'm down with it."
Zaphomil gives Angelica a wink. Smiling, he pulls out the shard from its secure location and points it at Harbug, mainly for show. "Ready when you are," he says.
"Okay." As Harbug finishes chanting, a dim light glows around his body and his form begins to shift. His hands clamp together and twist, hardening into claws. His legs split into three parts as he hunches over and his form rapidly changes into that of an enormous crab. It clicks its claws a couple of times and turns to look sideways at Zaphomil.
Harbug goes through the uncomfortable shift - changing from a mammalian form to that of a crustacean made everything feel squished and constrained - and then Zaphomil follows through with his spell. The now zippy crab shot into the water with amazing speed, nearly faster than anyone else could follow. Eye stalks pivoting about, the crab Harbug headed straight for the dark spot that he could see at a distance.
In crab form, his eyes weren't as good as his normal form, and the water was filled with debris. Once he got out past the breakers , though, he was able to see more clearly. The ship was badly broken, having crashed upon the rock and then been thrust against them by the storm a few weeks past. A gaping hole in its midsection showed the cargo, strewn across the seabed.
Here and there about the ship were bony humanoid forms, their flesh stripped by the denizens of the sea. Harbug counted eight in sight, but they seemed not to react to his presence at all.
There were several kinds of seaweed around the wrecked ship, but one was made of fine wisps of straight fibers that certainly looked like hair. Harbug was able to snip several clumps free in a matter of seconds before he felt the haste effects wearing off. Hurriedly, he moved back to land, the seaweed clutched in his claws.
From the shoreline, Shabbezz watches the water with the others. Her wand is at hand, just in case the Harbug really does happen to bring back trouble.
"Good work!" Zaphomil exclaims as he collects the seaweed from Harbug's claws. "You up for another run, or do you think this is enough?"
The Harbug-crab raises its first set of claws.
There is enough kelpie's hair in Zaphomil's hands for a small handful. As the witch didn't specify how much she wanted, it was anyone's guess whether or not it was enough. either way, Harbug's spell wouldn't last too much longer.
"Well Harbug has safely returned and we have done what the witch wanted. Let us return to her. If she wants more, then we can come back on a different day with new spells.
"Wise idea. And since my hands are a bit smaller than yours, we'll just use them to define a handful," he says with a wink.
Seeing that you might have enough already, you make your way back to the witch's hut. Given that you've only been gone less than an hour, it would not be surprising if the witch wasn't ready for your return. However, as you approached the hut once more, she was standing on the sagging porch of her hut and smiling.
"Knew you'd not have problems with the deaders. Bring back plenty did you?"
She peered at the bunch of limp strands in Zaphomil's hands.
"Well, it isn't the biggest handful I've ever seen, but it doesn't take much Kelpie's hair to get the flavor right. Bring it on in, and I'll answer your questions."
Shabbezz follows the others in, eager to get past the preamble and to start getting real information.
Angelica is tickled by their ability to get the seaweed with minimal efforts, beyond fighting the skeletons that is. She offers a little encouragement. "Great work, my handsome men. You two are just so resourceful." She gives Harbug a peck on the cheek, and Zaph one on the forehead.
Back with the witch, she is relieved at least, that it was enough to get what they wanted from her. "I'm glad we were able to help out, to reach a mutual agreement. We're mostly interested in the Lady's Light, and the best way to deal, or not deal, with either the Boggs, or the Troggs."
Leaning on her staff as she listens to the conversation, Shabbezz is currently content to allow Angelica to handle the talking for the moment.
The witch cackled a little - regular laughter, not the mind-affecting, hackle raising noise that witches are legendary for - at Angelica's statement. "Right to the chase, are you, lass? Bet the boys here love that. Still, I said I'd answer your questions, and answer them I will. Sit down and I'll tell you somewhat about the region, and its recent visitors. Yes, I see you are interested in that, after all. Soup'll be ready by the time I'm done, to be sure. And welcome you are to a bowl, if you have the stomach for it."
"The xulgaths - them's what you city folk call troglodytes - and the boggards have been feuding around here for generations. Long before I got here, for sure. They're pretty evenly matched, and I've never seen one to get the upper hand on the other. For the most part, they leave me be - I've taught them that much, at least. And when they've stuck their noses into my business, well that's where I got the prime decorations on my bridge from, ain't it?"
"But then, a few months back we had some new visitors. A troop of women knights or something, clad in plate and wearing red-plumed helms. Their leader was a woman named Oriana - pretty enough, at least until she took her helmet off and showed me the scars. She sat down to dinner with me, polite enough to eat with an old recluse, even if the food wasn't to her liking, and gave me a nice magic wand as a bribe. Knew how to treat a hermit right, she did. Didn't need to send her off to catch bumblefrogs, or gather kelpie's hair."
"She told me that she and her sisters were from Korvosa, soldiers of the rightful queen - the one that got thrown from her high chair a few years back. They'd had to flee the city once their queen wasn't in charge any more - no use for a Queensguard when there's no queen, is there? - and they been doing mercenary work until Oriana got the idea to plunder the Lady's Light for the rumored treasure there."
"made me chuckle a bit, since I've heard the stories too, but never heard of anyone finding any, or even an entrance into the place. I've tried, myself, for years after I first arrived in these swamps. Supposedly there's entrances in the caves beneath the statue, but those caves belong to the frogs and trogs, and I didn't get too far. Between that and the magic of the Light itself, I've steered clear for years."
"Anyway, Oriana was intent on getting under the Lady's skirts, and she asked me about the way in. I told her about the caves, and the frogs and trogs, just like I am you, but it didn't seem to phase her. After all, she had a whole troop of metal-clothed soldiers to back her up. So off she goes, and damn me if she and her sisters didn't strike a deal with the frogs. Gave them some better weapons, some training, and helped them launch an attack against the trogs. I don't know the details, but the frog drums of celebration could be heard for a week straight. In return, I guess the frogs gave her permission to go through their tunnels."
"But here's the kicker. Oriana found the way in, or at least that's what she says. She came by here ten days ago with a story that she'd found none other than the Runelord of Lust herself in there, and that Sorchen recruited her to help reclaim her lands and rebuild her kingdom! Oriana wanted me to join them, but I ever so politely refused and wished her well. Gods above and below, I couldn't get her out of my hut fast enough. There's no zealot like a recent convert, and her eyes were burning with it!"
"The way I see it, there's a few possibilities. Either Oriana is lying, and I don't think that's likely, or that she's off her nut. That's more than likely the case. The third is that she ran into some nutcase pretending to be a Runelord - after that mess a few years ago, there's like to be a few out there looking for the power or affirmation that would come with the title - masquerading as the Grand Whore of Thassilon, and tricking Oriana and her entire cadre. Well, I suppose that she could have really encountered a living Sorshen in the Lady's Light, but if you buy that claptrap, I've got a bridge to the moon I'd like to sell you!"
Maroux cackled again at this last statement and leaned over to check the soup. With a slurping noise, she sampled the brew and declared it the finest swamp stew she'd made in years.
"Care for a bowl?"
Angelica stares straight ahead, wheels turning as she blankly accepts the soup with a nod and quiet thanks. "We appreciate all the information, and there is plenty to think about."
Turning to the others, she offers her thoughts aloud. "So these armed Korvosans, possibly rivals for our cause, have sided enough with the frogs that they may be more dangerous. Do we oppose the frogs, so that there is one less enemy at our backs, if we find the women to be the ones at our front? Do we side with the trogs, in much the same manner, so that the two balance each other out and become a null value? Do we fight the less trained and armed trogs, and avoid the frogs, or use my subtle charm," she offers a feigned coy wink, "to try to fool the frogs into thinking I'm with the woman and her crew?"
Her eyes go wide as she shakes her head, "That's just to get in, assuming we can even do so through the trogs. Then we have to question whether we face a runelord, or someone tough enough to convincingly pose as one." She exhales sharply through her nose, shakes her head once more, then absentmindedly takes a spoonful of stew.
Angelica ruminates on what she heard. She knows from what Maroux has said - and she was fairly confident the witch was playing it straight - that Sorshen was the Runelord of Lust, and thus it is likely that the shard you seek is here, even if this person inside isn't the Runelord herself. Beyond that...well she wasn't the scholar of this group.
"I'll have one, thanks." Harbug accepts a bowl of stew from the witch, then ponders a while, listening to Angelica. "I don't think we could side with the trogs even if we wanted to--we don't have the time, manpower or supplies to 'side with them' the way this Oriana woman did for the frogs. And if the frogs are on her side already, I doubt they'd want our help. I'd say our best bet is if the fighting has weakened the trogs enough we might be able to just go through them. Though your idea of convincing the frogs that we're with Oriana isn't a bad one, if it goes sideways we'll be facing a strengthened, geared fighting force."
Zaph also accepts a bowl, travelers being offered food is always a small blessing from Desna. He says a word of thanks, then mulls over the witch's information, considering the excitement of meeting an actual living runelord from the time of Thassilon. As unlikely as that could be, he still breaks into a broad grin.
"Boggards are scum," Shabbezz says matter-of-factly, taking her own bowl from Maroux. She has not taken offense to her referring to the boggards as "frogs," as she doesn't consider herself one anymore than a human would consider herself a monkey.
"They've plagued my people back in Garund for as long as memory serves. If you want to eliminate them before they can trouble us, you'll hear no argument from me. But we're hardly much of a fighting force; if you think we can get past them by relying on your talents with subterfuge, that may be the most prudent course of action. Besides, the idea that they could have encountered someone impersonating Sorshen intrigues me. I'd like to know more before we wind up needing to smash everything to save our hides."
The idea that Oriana and her group could have actually encountered the real Sorshen is so inherently ludicrous to the grippli that she feels no need to comment on it.
"Thank you for the king offer of soup, I will pass thanks, my stomach is currently a little delicate." Listening to the others ideas Jakscar's brow furrows in thought. "Getting through the weakened Trogs might be safer, after all if it goes wrong, then they are already weakened. However it sounds like the access route might be amongst the territory of the Bogs and therefore we gain nothing. Perhaps we could approach the Trogs and see if they know a route, before we push through and enter the Lady's Light. We could even hint at helping them without ever actually offering help. "
Despite all of the stories about witches and their brews, all but Jakscar took the proffered soup from Maroux. Whether to be polite, or from a determined sense of self punishment, the results were the same. The soup tasted foul, thick and slimy with an aftertaste like the smell of carrion after a few days in the warm sun. Maroux slurped hers down with relish, going back for a second bowl. You felt queasy having just tasted it, and each of you would rather skin yourselves alive and jump in the sea than go back for more.
The witch didn't seem put off by anyone not liking her cooking, pouring any uneaten portions back into the pot. Dinner talk went quickly from the food to plans for entering the Lady's Light, and plans for the night. Maroux graciously offered to let you sleep on her island, though not in her hut, as that would be improper, her not knowing you very well yet.
Angelica stomachs the stew. She's has better, and she's had worse, but it sure beats the stew she took a dive in at Natalya's place. She nods at everyone's ideas and suggestions. "A few sound points. It's true, we don't even know if there's a way to get through past the trogs, so we would have to either beat or befriend them just to find out. We know the frogs have a way, and if we can fool them to thinking we're with Oriana, maybe we can also get info on our competition. If it goes sour, then if we can beat them, that's one less ally that Oriana has. I'm thinking in order of preference it goes: fool the frogs, fight the frogs, side with the trogs against the frogs, and lastly fight the trogs. Sound about right?"
The safety of the island compared to a hut wasn't much, but it was better than not being out in it by themselves. Even so, she suggests the camp on the side furthest from the bridge, having Maroux's hut between them and any intruders. Secondly, they will still be maintaining the watch schedule they set up before.
"I think that about sums up the desired order, yes."
"Agreed." Harbug looks slightly greener than usual, but seems to be managing to keep it down. He squeezes as much water as he can from his bedroll and sets himself up to sleep.
"Sounds good."
Zaph suppresses his eagerness and finally settles down for the evening.
"That certainly sounds like a good place to start"
Jakscar happily settles down to sleep, once he can find a dryish place to lay his bedroll and pour the water out of his boots.
The night passed uneventfully, though the city folk among you are continually startled by the night sounds of the swamp. That and Maroux's snoring. The sleeping witch sounded like a pair of dragons roaring at each other over a thunderstorm.
The next morning, groggy and feeling unrested, you speak with the with regarding the options you had discussed. She handed you a hand drawn map with a few locations marked on it, showing the locations of the three caves that she knows of that might get you under the Lady's Light.
"I ain't gonna tell you how to do your jobs, so I'll just give you this. There's three caves, here where the trogs live, here just outside the boggard village, and here. Don't know what's in the third one, but it's big and nasty. Talked to enough locals to gather that much, and not too interested in poking my nose in there. Still, thought it's be good to put on the map."
Pulling on his still damp boots, Jakscar sharpens his blades whilst listening to the witch.
"Well I think that changes the approach order, fool the Trogs seems the closest and more sensible option to me now. Angy how do you fancy schmoozing the most hideous creature in the world"
Shabbezz looks up from her spell book.
"I would prefer to stick to the initial plan and try fooling the boggards, but if we can get what we need by siding with the trogolodytes while not having to slog across the length of the fen before nightfall in the bargain, then I'm nothing if not flexible.
"If the boggards refuse our attempts to make nice, and we need to retreat, it would be best if it wasn't into the waiting jaws of the troglodytes. Anyway, I'm hopeful we won't need to breathe water this day, because don't think it necessary to prepare it, unless you disagree?"
Angelica looks at the scrawled map with concern, but she nods with Zaph and Shabbezz. "No, we should stick to the core plan, but with one small detour. We should attempt to side with the trogs before we face the frogs. The frogs still have information about this other group that we may need. On top of that, we may still need to remove them as the others' allies. This just means we should at least try to sway the trogs into thinking we're on their side. Regardless, I have no plans on facing some big unknown in some other cave."
To Zaph's last question, she thinks on it. "I can't be sure what lies within those tunnels. If it goes below the surface, there may be flooded caves. Trogs aren't swimmers as far as I know, but Boggards are born in the water. If we do encounter submerged tunnels, we have to wait a day in the tunnel. So, I can't say yay or nay on whether we will need it."
"You folks decide what we're going to be doing, I want to ask one last thing of Maroux."
Harbug heads back across the bridge and looks for Maroux. "Maroux, I've heard you called a witch of the swamp, purely a term of both fear and respect I am sure. I am also a shaman of a similar sort. I wonder, would you be interested in sharing knowledge between our pets?"
The half-orc witch looked Harbug up and down, then smiled. "Tell you what, handsome. You come back to me when your work with the Lady is done, and our familiars won't be the only ones sharing something, yeah?"
*Snrk!*
Anyone who turned to look at the source of the sound only finds Shabbezz having gone back to studying her spell book with extreme focus.
"Well, let's see where we're at when we finish at the Lady." Harbug seems unflustered, but ever-so-slightly confused.
Plan finally settled, and Harbug unsettled, you set off into the swamp, using the roughly drawn map as your guide. It took about two hours to cover the relatively short distance between Maroux's hut and the place marked as the troglodyte's cave. At least, you think it must be the troglodyte cave.
A cluster of large rocks juts from the ground like the broken teeth of some long dead titan. Between the largest of the stones, a cave sits, its mouth blocked over by a waist-high wall of brambles. From a distance, you can't see any movement within the cave, but as you approach, a foul reek assaults your nostrils.
Angelica tries to stifle a wince at the stink, and with a half-hearted smirk she offers, "Well, time to try and win the hearts and minds of the locals." She draws her rapier, and clearing her throat, tinks it against a nearby rock to make a metallic chiming sound. Watching the cave for movement, she also keeps an eye out around them for any signs of ambush or other trap.
Zaph takes a whiff and forces a smile past his crinkling nose. "Best be getting used to that, everyone."
Shabbezz places one of her wide, webbed hands over her nostrils.
"Ugh, that is ripe. Reminds me of the fleshforges of Oenopion on a hot summer's day."
Jakscar holds a neatly monogrammed handkerchief to his nose. Drawing his long blade, he adopts a non-threatening pose, holding the sword like a gentleman's cane.
"Do you think they would find it offensive if I bandaged up my nose and dosed the bandages in pure menthol, thereby destroying my sense of smell?"