Gobo attempt to aid his sewer dragon friend.
Observe. He does a flourish. Both Alladin Sarsippius Sulamanagic the Third and Gobo the Magnificent are of refined taste. They walk among those who appreciate fine things. Praise for the Three-Legged Frog shall echo from New Thassilon to the foundations of Absalom itself.
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"My sweetest Aganis, I know I have come unannounced and potentially imposed upon you a terrible burden. I wish to be no beast in this situation, believe me. But I, for you? I would walk the ends of this world if only to taste but a nibble, see but a flash of the luxury behind your doors. I am a kobold of my word; when I say I do not tell I mean that. I mean that.The honor of this establishment shall be kept in the highest regard. I will sing the praises of the Threelegged Frog to Shelyn herself, baring my soul, my heart, my everything. Please, Miss Aganis. Please. For me. I must know the luxury of The Three-legged Frog.
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"Oh my! Well...it's not booked right now, so I suppose I could cut you a deal on the luxury suite. How does 3.5gp sound?" A deal struck, she leads you up to your rooms, which are spacious and comfortable. The feather mattresses are plump and comfortable, and Aganis returns shortly with a basket of fresh fruit for the table in the central room of the suite, from which all of your rooms branch out. "We've got some delicious, alchemically-enhanced pastries on order for tomorrow morning, as well, complementary for our luxury guests, of course! Just the thing to give you a pep in your step for wherever your business takes you."
Alladin Sarsippius Sulamanagic the Third, Gobo would travel with you more often.
The fauchard clatters across the table, slicing an apple in twain. Gobo picks up one half and offers it to the kobold. He nibbles at the the other half and dabs the running eyeshadow off his plump cheeks. How sweet it is, having everything one deserves.
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CRUNCH
”I don’t know about you, Gobo, but I am going to enjoy my mani/pedi tomorrow. I think I can talk them into one of those cucumber eye patch treatments. A warmed robe and a towel for my head. Sweet Aroden this a delicious apple. We make a good team, Gobo. Here, let me freshen up those robes for you. We gotta look good you know: look good feel good, make the right impression.”
Aladdin casts prestidigitation to clean Gobo’s clothes; he then does the same for his own traveling gear.
”Anyone else?”
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"Def'nitely not." replies the dwarf. "Where I come from, there ain't none of this magic stuff. None at all. All got burned out millennia ago by the wizard wars. We proud dwarves of Dongun Keep protected themselves just fine, too.
"Now there ain't a lick o' magic near us, and we kinda like it that way, 'Course, we had t' invent these little babies, t' help wit' th' defense, but invent we did!"
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"I've never seen accommodations like this in Nirmathas, though I guess it might be possible in Tamran," Zalmora says, suddenly aware that each step she takes adds dirt to the accommodations.
"My da was a Foxclaw, so for me and my mum home was whatever patch of ground we found that was dry. Though there was the occasional cabin stay with my aunt and uncle. But I grew up on the land. All this," she waves an arm to gesture at all the comforts. "I don't even know where to start."
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After settling in to your new lavish accommodations, you eventually wander back downstairs to find a common room that is steadily filling up as the afternoon goes along. Aganis’s husband Roland has joined her behind the bar, and is every bit as friendly as his wife. You spend a pleasant afternoon chatting with them and with locals that work the docks as they enjoy an after-work drink, and you hear from several people about the strange mushroom-looking fellow that passed through here a few days ago—maybe a week, or even ten days? There’s some disagreement on this point. Ennillee and Dewin hear from Roland that Rain showed up later than his reservation indicated, and that as a result he was forced to hire more expensive accommodations than he had planned, as the cheaper rooms were all booked up by the time he arrived. Even worse–and Roland does feel a mite bad about this, but what can you do?--his pack mule and some of his provisions were stolen from the stables overnight. Rain set out the following morning, and Roland hasn’t seen him since. Alladin gets to talking with a friendly dockhand that bought the downtrodden leshy a drink and chatted with him for a while. She remembers Rain telling her that he had booked a guide to take him into the swamp, but that the guide never showed up. She tried to talk him out of going out into the swamp on his own, told him there were lots of dangerous critters and whatnot, but he was determined. The last she saw of him, he was heading toward the north gate with nothing but a backpack and the clothes on his back.
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Gobo would derive pleasure from punishing this felon, but it would be a mere diversion such as a pleasure cruise.
Gobo dresses in his leopard-print galoshes, a pink poncho featuring a dizzying array of neon yellow shapes, and an oversize sun hat to match. He lifts the brim of the hat up so he can see, and drops the fauchard yet again. Gobo is prepared to face these inimical swamplands.
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"I think we should go visit that deadbeat before we leave, but if'n y'all want to run off in to the swamp after this rainy day toad, that's cool. Once we return with the little stool, maybe me, him and my main man Gobo here can go pay him a visit. Teach him the error of his ways. Painfully; until he gets with the plan."
Gobo is willing to help gather info on the guide.
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"No clue who the guide was, sorry. Rain never mentioned a name"
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The next morning you rise and, still grumbling about what you're going to do to the guide that ditched Rain if you ever find them, you make your way out the northern gate and into the swamp. Zalmora takes the lead, putting her tracking skills to use as she searches for tracks that look like they belong to a leshy. She doesn't have much success, however, and her luck quickly goes from bad to worse as her foot suddenly finds the ground not nearly so solid as it appears! She just manages to keep her balance as, in the blink of an eye, she sinks down to her waste in quicksand!
Dewin quickly lashes together some nearby branches to form a makeshift ladder, in an attempt to help Zalmora climb out.
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Panic chokes the runelord. This wretched place! Why!? WHY!?
Gobo shall rise above the sludge and filth! He flaps his arms around under his pink poncho; rainbow-colored runes manifest in the air as he veils himself in confidence, hiding his fear — even from himself.
His voice is calm. Pull on three.
One, two— PLOP. The fauchard falls into the mud. Gobo stares at it, forgetting to say "three."
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Now, Zamora, Dewin purrs, his voice calm as a still pond, you didn't have the benefit of Society classes like many of us did, where we learned how to handle situations like this. If you had, youd know. Steady as she goes, put one hand after the other. Step by step, hand by hand, ladder rung by ladder rung. You'll be out of that mire in no time.
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Ennillee grits her teeth, loops a rope around Zalmora, and with a mighty second heave, hauls the ranger out of the quicksand! After a few moments to catch your breath, you can easily skirt around the edges of the still-rippling quicksand.
After a few more hours of travel, you come to a point where a large tree has fallen across the path. Before you can begin to clear the log or find a way around, you all notice several long shapes slithering their way through the marshy water to your right!
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Ennillee starts moving in a strange manner, almost as if she were bobbing in the water rather than standing on firm ground. She moves over next to the snake gripping Dewin and lashes out twice!
Frequency once per day; Trigger A creature that has blood and is not at its maximum Hit Points hits you with a melee Strike; Effect You channel salt and brine from your blood into the creature's wounds. The creature must attempt a DC 17 Fortitude save. On a failure, the creature takes 1d6 persistent acid damage and is sickened 1 by the pain. On a critical failure, it instead takes 2d6 persistent acid damage and is sickened 2.
The runelord shrieks: Gobo is king of this wretched wasteland!
Again he flaps his arms around under his pink poncho; the swamp writhes with grasping roots.
He bends it it his will!
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Dewin is displeased.
He pulls out a blue-hued rune and slams it to the ground.
He then conjures up a disc of force for protection.
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Action 1: Hunt Prey
Action 2: Gravity Weapon
Action 3: Strike
Bow in hand, Zalmora moves her right hand a series of gestures that instill a kind of gravitational weight to her strikes.
The ranger then quickly draws and nocks arrow. She takes a second to study one of the snakes, working on understand and predict its undulating movements.
She then pulls back on the bowstring, aiming and releasing with studied precision.
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Zalmora takes careful aim and buries one powerful arrow into the flank of one of the approaching snakes. Undeterred, her target swims forward, heading for the tasty dwarf meal right in front of it! It moves around the strangely altering terrain, slowing it down, but still manages to get in range to lunge at Ingmar!
The other snake plows right ahead into the weird swamp, struggling through the strange, warped terrain to reach Zalmora!
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Action 1: Hunt Prey
Action 2: Strike
Action 3: Command an Animal (Stride, Strike)
Zalmora turns her attention to the approaching snake, studying it like she did the other. With a degree of confidence that she knows which way it'll sway she sends forth another arrow aimed at centre mass!
"Baxter, sic 'em!"
The loyal dog rushes to obey.
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Ennillee races over to #1.
She swirls around in a confusing manner, suddenly lashing out with two quick jabs.
vs Perception DC
possibly vs flat-footed
+1 if flat-footed
Frequency once per day; Trigger A creature that has blood and is not at its maximum Hit Points hits you with a melee Strike; Effect You channel salt and brine from your blood into the creature's wounds. The creature must attempt a DC 17 Fortitude save. On a failure, the creature takes 1d6 persistent acid damage and is sickened 1 by the pain. On a critical failure, it instead takes 2d6 persistent acid damage and is sickened 2.
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The snake zigs when Zalmora expects it to zag, then recoils just in time to avoid her dog's bite.
It then avoids some of Ingmar's lightning, though it's companion is able to dodge completely out of the way. Ennillee steps up and finishes the job, though, hitting the snake with a vicious one-two that drops it, unmoving, to the ground!