Marduzi curses and grabs Smoke's reins seeking to guide him around away from the serpent without spooking the horse.
Smoke tosses his head and takes a few skittering steps past the hissing snake, but a touch on his neck and a soft word from Marduzi prevent full flight. The snake's diamond shaped head weaves and bobs threateningly in the middle of the bridge, between the cavalier and the rest of the group.
Asira walks forward to where Marduzi stands and touches him slightly on his shoulder, casting Guidance.
"Well, it's not a goblin, so it's not suitable for our contest. Either way, ladies first."
"Marsh viper. Irritable and territorial buggers," Nostariel says and she lowers her bow and begins to hum to herself quietly, like half of a lullaby.
Marduzi commands Smoke to stay and advances on the snake with his greatsword. He sees the snake squirm away from Asira's jab, but then grow sluggish under Nostariel's hex. He brings the sword down against the snake's neck.
AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14. . (+4 armor, +2 Dex)
hp 11/11
Equipped Weapon Greatsword +6 (2d6+7/19-20/x2)
Buffs None
Asira's spear gouges a deep furrow int the rotten plank next to the viper, before Nostariel's song lull's it to gentle coiled slumber. Next second, Marduzi's flashing blade removes its head.
"Hoy, nice work there Nostariel. Guess my sword was a little overkill." he laughs. Marduzi walks back over to Smoke, petting the horse and speaking soothingly, "That's a boy. Just a little swamp snake. You did great at getting out of the way. Nothing for you to stomp on today."
"That was well done, I didn't even have to get involved before it was over.
Lucky for the snake, I bet he is thanking his lucky stars down in snake hell by now."
Before crossing the bridge, Nostariel leans down and collects a few scales from the snake and folds them into a little paper packet, tucking it away in a pouch filled with herbs, animal parts, scribbled notes, candles, and the like. When she finishes, she kicks the dead snake carcass over the side of the bridge, "In case it attracts a scavenger to block our return path. I'd hate to fight a real bridge troll," she jests.
Ruhk looks down at the bloody mess that is left.
"Tsk tsk, I have not seen this much of a mess since I saw one of them so called "war wizards" calling out an orc.
Guess which one was turned into the mess?"
"Depends on how close the orc was to the mage when he called him out."
Ruhk gives voice to a raucous laugh at Nostariels reply.
"Normally it would, but you see, the orc naturally decided that no doddering old greybeard should call HIM names, so he charged...
right into the pit trap a meter before the mage."
"But as he fell, he flung his arms up in surprise and he lost his grip on his shield, which flew in an arc and hit the mage on the head.
Now this did make the mage stumble back in a daze, right on top of a pile of lamp oil..."
"Now the mage was dazed AND confused, so he threw a fire spell...
BOOOOOM!"
"And that is the story of how I lost 150 gold coins."
Nostariel smiles a half smile, just the one side of her mouth, and responds. "Who did you bet on?"
Asira laughs loud.
"So who was dead first Ruhk?"
The noise of insects and the fetid stench of marsh water fill the air. The trail stretches away through the swamp, on the other side of the now bloodstained bridge.
Ruhk chuckles a little.
"Bet? No no, I didn't bet, but who did you think were responsible for all that lamp oil? Last time I was in charge of that warehouse let me tell you."
"As for who died first, well I'm pretty sure it was the wizard, because once I had rubbed my eyes and could see again, I saw the orc had climbed out of the pit and was holding something in his hands.
And I heard him say to whatever it was: Let's see who drinks tea out of whose skull now?"
"And that my friends is the story about the first orc to ever try tea. He asked for milk but no sugar."
"...
I used my own tankard in case you were wondering."
Still laughing Asira crosses the bridge, carefull to not step into the blood of the snake.
"And you're sure that you did not make this up?"
Ruhk merely gives Asira a smile and shrugs.
"Who can tell?"
Marduzi smiles and shakes his head, "Nice story Ruhk. Can't wait to hear the one you spin when we finish off these goblins. I hope they still have a few fireworks. Make for a more interesting tale." He remounts Smoke and starts back down the trail toward the warden.
After what feels like hours of travel along the winding muddy trail, the ozone-sharp brine scent of the sea starts to cut through the ver present marsh reek. The trail leads up to a sodden lagoon. The open ocean of Sogg's bay lies just beyond these silty water, and an old two story building, its walls and roof heavy with moss, slumps beside the eastern edge of the lagoon.
This must be the warden's shack. Walthus Mudfoot, you hope, will direct you through the treacherous bogland to the goblin tribe.
"Nice place, sort of...cozy. With a nice rustic touch to the architecture and an inviting feel to it."
"You want to stay here and admire the architecture or do you want to learn if Walthus is here?²
Asira says Mockingly before approaching the shack and knocking at the door.
"Walthus, are you here? We are from Sandpoint and would like your help with some directions."
Ruhk grins at the mocking then begins to stroke his chin and give every apperance of seriously considering his options.
Nostariel sticks to the treeline, bow in hand, watching for signs of trouble. For all she knows, goblins could be living here now.
Marduzi dismounts from Smoke about 10 feet short of the warden's door and walks up with Asira. He listens and looks about the area while waiting to see if Walthus answers.
The wooden door to the warden's shack is slightly ajar; you see darkness within. No sound is heard from the dark interior; no voice answers Asira's call. The noises of insects, wind and wave, the natural sounds of the marsh and shore seem hushed.
A sense of expectancy, of waiting, surrounds you.
Marduzi whispers to Asira, "I don't like this. Unless the warden has a habit of leaving his door ajar, this would suggest something is wrong. I think we should go in. We can apologize if we've misunderstood."
Marduzi draws his greatsword from the scabbard on his bac.
Marduzi moves up to stand next to Asira. Raising his hand to the door, he gives it a slow push open. He looks into the house beyond, staining to see or hear any evidence of life.
Walthus' door swings open easily at Marduzi's touch, with a slight protesting squeak from the hinges. The door opens on a comfortably furnished living room that's in some disarray. Dark fluids stain a tipped settle - the stain still looks damp. Potted plants litter the floor, smashed and wilting.
A dragging, shuffling, painful step brings a short figure into view from an interior room. The figure, presumably Walthus, leans against the doorframe. His face is pale and clammy, with a livid mark disappearing below the collar of his rough-spun tunic.
"Who are you? What do you want here?" he rasps in a monotone.
"We are from Sandpoint and were looking for your help, but it seems that you are in need of our help too. Are you hurt?"
Asira steps forward, her hands open to show that she means no harm.
With a supreme effort of will, Ruhk manages to clamp down on the almost innumerable sarcastic or witty replies that is threatening to bubble up and spill from his lips.
Must...not...speak, must...not...speak!
Walthus blinks in confusion, "Sandpoint? My help?" he shakes his head, a strange convulsive gesture, then says, "Hurt. Yes. I hurt. Poison... snakes... poison." A rictus grin spreads across his face and he shuffles a half-step into the room, hands raised beseechingly.
"Poison? Let me see, maybe I can help."
Her face turns sorrowfull as she steps closer, intending to examine Walthus to see if she can help.
Marduzi moves into the room with Asira and looks at the man, trying to see any evidence of injury, "What snakes? How were you poisoned? I'm sure I can remember some old folk remedies that old Niska talked about."
A womans touch all over your body? Almost worth cuddling a snake first.
Walthus flinches, as if about to recoil from Asira's touch, then lets her briefly examine him. He certainly shows signs of poison, but there is too much blood to have come just from snake puncture wounds. The blood has an odd greenish tinge.
Walthus stares blankly at Marduzi's mention of Niska, a well known citizen of the area.
"Healing," he rasps in his toneless voice. "Then I help you."
"I fear I have no healing to offer you Walthus. What exactly happened to you? Why does your blood have so much green?"
Walthus' eyes become slits as Marduzi's tone becomes more questioning, and he hisses. Quickly - stunningly quick, the attack - his hands are at Asira's throat. The halfling's features seem to dissolve as it attacks, revealing a wrinkled, hunch-backed humanoid creature with mottled brown-and-red flesh and a spherical head with no true face — only a crooked slit from which a rasplike tongue periodically lashes and licks.
What the... Marduzi reels as the creature attacks Asira. "Nostariel, get in here, I don't know what this thing is, but its attacking Asira!"
Marduzi shouts, "No! Asira!" The Varisian steps forward, swinging his greatsword at the warden-creature.
Nostariel dashes from the tree line and heads inside to aid her comrades. "By the spirits, what is that thing? Asira, let me help you..." Nostariel focuses on being the calm in the storm, allowing nature's healing energies to use her as a conduit and knit Asira's wound.