"Aye, captain. I'm hardly a scout, but my eyes are sharp."
Drawing his dagger, the druid moves forward slowly, eyes peeled for threats - or animated gibbet occupants. And recent tracks of any kind.
Good work. Let's go.
As the group heads toward the trees, the skeleton hanging from the nearby branches fails to animate. A closer look, though, reveals that it has been carved in an almost scrimshaw-like fashion, in between gnawings from small, sharp teeth. Conchobhar murmurs a curse under his breath, readying his shortbow and looking decidedly ill-at-ease; Owlbear appears to be handling the situation better, but even he has picked up on his companions' moods and is quiet. As you head for the jungle, the large man picks up a length of timber from the ruins, holding it for use as a weapon if needed.
Under the shade of the trees, you had hoped to find that the day's sticky heat - already rising as the morning's clouds blow out and the sun begins climbing into the sky - would lessen, but if anything, it gets worse. The humidity is enough to make the sweat on your skin cling there like a greasy coating, and the bugs get worse as well. It soon becomes clear why - only a few hundred feet from the beach, the jungle turns to a brackish swamp, and the trail you are following becomes a twisting maze of mostly-dry spots that snakes through the half-shadows of the jungle canopy.
"Captain. The trees protected the trail from the storm last night. I make out recent tracks. Yesterday or earlier today. Barefoot humans - smaller men, maybe women judging from the size? They've walked this path before, so it's hard to tell exactly how many were here last, but I don't think it's more than four."
He looks up, "They don't look like grindylows. They must be tough to live here with a colony of octogoblins nearby."
"Or they work with the beasts, in some sort of bizarre symbiosis.
"A disturbing thought."
"Or elves, maybe? They'd be slight enough to match that description." Eleuterio chewed his lower lip in thought for a moment. "I think we should follow those tracks, Captain. If they're working with the grindylows, then they'll lead us right to them. If they're not, then they know where they live, and we might be able to parley with them."
I thought about the tracks Chum had identified. My father had some encounters with native women of the islands, and I had to wonder if something similar was in store for me. But such dalliances would have to be set aside at least until after our friends were rescued.
Absolutely, Mr. Reis. Chum, lead the way.
Nodding, Chum will endeavor to follow the tracks while keeping an eye out for threats.
The tracks are easy to follow, now that Chum knows what he's looking for, and they stay rather firmly on the path. After about five minutes, the pathway slips suddenly into a large green bog. Remnants of an old wooden bridge cross the bog, but only short timber platforms on either side remain, leaving just the pilings jutting from the mud.
Chum, carefully watching for signs of danger, spots two pairs of large eyes just above the surface of the mire. He recognizes them as belonging to some kind of massive amphibian, although unless one or both were to come out of the bog, he can't tell more accurately than that.
"Captain, it appears your time in the rigging might serve you well today. See those branches overhead? I suspect those we seek use them to cross the bog now that the bridge is gone. Since I'd rather not meet that creature on his terms, I suggest we cross via the tree. Or someone could tie a rope overhead and we could swing over."
Good eye, Chum. Let's see about getting across unmolested, shall we?
I set about climbing up the nearby trees to secure a rope or find a convenient vine. Certainly swinging across chasms and all manner of watery threats was a common occurrence for my father, so I was heartened to be beginning such endeavors so early in my burgeoning career.
As I followed the perceptive druid, I tried to think back to my studies for any reference to an island settlement like the one where we had landed.
"Do you need assistance, captain?"
It would seem perhaps that he does, for Artevious' attempts to scale the tree are foiled before they begin - he cannot seem to find a good approach to begin working his way up to the canopy.
Perhaps, I answered Mr. Cooper. He apparently observed the difficulty I was having hoisting myself up into the branches. It wasn't quite as easy as the rigging was.
I decided to give it another go before trying to come up with another solution.
This time, Artevious finds an approach with handholds he can use, and scrambles up into the trees. Reaching the midpoint of the canopy, he lashes the rope to a handy-looking set of branches, setting it up to be used to swing across.
Tally ho! I called out as I swung across the watery expanse.
Then I turned back around and tossed the rope back to the others. Just like that, lads!
Eleuterio draws his cutlass, giving it a few test swings as he keeps a weather eye on the bog monster. "We'll cover your landing on the other side, Captain. I'll go over last - my armor will weigh me down."
Chum catches the rope and, looking at the other two, shrugs and makes his attempt.
Surprised at how easy it was, he tosses the rope back to the Andoran.
"This bodes well...," I think to myself as I grab hold of the line. Last time I'd had to do this I landed in the drink with several hungry sharks.
"Well, who's next?"
"I think that's me," Eleuterio said, warily taking the rope. He made a silent prayer to the Inheritor before grabbing the cord tight, running towards the gap and swinging across.
As his hands slip and he begins to fall, a thought runs through the paladin's mind. Yep, that's about right.
I swing the rope back to the paladin.
"Maybe you should just have Owlbear throw you acro..," I jest as Eleutario begins his attempt and pausing as the inevitable occurs.
"... Nevermind."
As Eleuterio drops into the mire, he makes a rather impressive and sandy splash. Almost immediately, though, he begins to sink in the muddy bog, much faster than he expected. It isn't just a shallow marsh: it's quicksand!
Even as he splashes down, the two pairs of eyes in the bog rise up, revealing a pair of giant frogs the size of a full-grown man. Owlbear shouts in fright.
Reis! I shouted, but too late, as the armored man pitched down into the muck. Much to my dismay, he seemed to be sinking rapidly. Confounding the luck even further, the threat that Chum had spotted -- some sort of monstrous frog -- decided to take an interest in our predicament.
I first determined to deal with the frog, so I pulled my pistol and took aim.
There isn't much I can do from up above the quicksand, so I begin looking around for a way to assist Eleutario.
"Quickly! Anyone else have some rope?"
Artevious' pistol echoes through the jungle, and one of the frogs slowly sags back into the muck, a smoking hole through its head.
Chum moves to get a clear line on the giant beast and throws lightning toward it, hoping to drive it off.
Rather than stay and fight the frog in its natural habitat, Eleuterio keeps making for the far side of the bog. It's an ambush predator, he reasons. Maybe it won't follow if I get out of here before it gets ahold of me.
Start swimming. If I'm 10' or further away, then I'll take a full-round. Otherwise, I'll take two move actions.
Chum's lightning sears the hide of the remaining frog. Unfortunately, even as he fires, Eleuterio slips beneath the surface of the mire, dragged down by the weight of the wet sand.
"Is there any more rope?" Conchobhar calls out, repeating Evril's question. "I have something that might help, if there is and I can get over to you!"
"Climb to where the rope is tied! You can toss the end to him or Conchobhar!"
Conchobhar decides that he might be better off taking that route as well, and asks for a boost from Owlbear; the large man offers one gratefully.
It takes about half a minute, but Conchobhar gets up and over to the rope.
Evril looks frantically for a way to reach the rope of to jump across to it, but finds nothing. In the meantime, though, the other frog moves through the muck and launches its sticky tongue at Chum.
The tongue latches onto Chum and yanks, pulling him into the mire as well.
My aim was true and the frog was no more. Unfortunately, the frog had a mate, and despite my most stunning show of accuracy, it deigned to use its own ranged attack upon one of my company. A most disgusting tongue shot forth, and now Chum was in the muck along with Mr. Reis, who had disappeared beneath the bog.
Conchobar and Owlbear began working together to get at my stalwart first mate, while Mr. Cooper looked plenty tempted to try a daring jump across the watery hazard to reach the rope. It would have been a grand feat, had he succeeded, though it more probably would have ended up with a third member attempting to swim in mud.
As the confounding frog remained a real threat and the rope was presently out of my reach, I did essentially the only thing I could at this point. I reloaded.
Chum stands on the edge of the mire mulling options, but the giant beast makes his decision for him, yanking him into the muck with his disgusting tongue. "So be it," he says grimly as he draws his dagger and waits for the beast to approach.
"Vault it ALL!" I shout in frustration as my search for a way to assist Leu comes up empty.
Seeing nothing else I can do from the shore, I pull the hammer from my belt at fling it at the frog-creature...
... only to watch it sail over the beast's head and sink into the muck.
"GRAHHH!!!!!" I bellow.
The frog seems put off by Chum's level of comfort in the soggy mire. It was apparently expecting more thrashing, interspersed with some brief moments of occasional drowning.