Rumble in the Swamp

General Summary

Unrefined Quest Log

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Enticed by Treasure in the Swamp

You’ve traveled to Port Ange on the island of Haige in search of the mysterious treasure of legend. After quickly interviewing some of the locals you discover there has been an influx of adventures all coming and going to the Swamp town of Umbra. All boosting of deeds and glory. Umbra rests in the swamp lands that neighbor Port Ange. You also learn Umbra itself is largely unremarkable best known for its fine pottery. You are able to get a guild and boat and head into the swamp lands with warning to not follow any lights or trust any voices you might hear. The swamp itself is eerily beautiful, the wetlands are completely encased by a canopy of Lumbar trees (an extremely large evergreen tree with a luminous fruit which provides the only sources in the dim wetlands). Moss grows on everything, and you have a strange idea it might grow on you if you stay here.

Swamp Jerks

You currently find yourselves huddled down on the floor of the boat as arrows whistle over your heads. “I did not sign up for this!” Thwack The guide whose name is Cid the Swamp Guide, a middle aged thin human with graying hair lets out a shriek as an arrow pierces the hull of the boat right by his head.
After vomiting over the edge, the short goblin, Dorrus, muttered in a language that was not common, and slipped down beneath the walls of the boat for protection from the arrows. He grouched about verbally, though not understandably unless one speaks goblin, as he searched for his shortbow. An exclamation of frustration came when he realized it wasn't strung and more grouching as he dug through his pack (which had been secured under a seat) for the bowstring. As agitated as he was, he had a hard time getting the bow strung up, his forceful attempts to do a simple task made it take longer than it would have had he kept calm. Nevertheless, the goblin finally strung his bow and found a crude arrow to nock.
Watching that wretched creature empty the better part of itself down the side of the boat, Mal screws his eyes up tight and wills his nose to heal up before the stench hits. It refuses his command, going so far as to suck a deep lungful in, his stomach convulsing in revolting applause for his body's rebellion. This isn't fair! All he'd wanted to do was to get out of town for a day or two while the heat died down on those missing fishermen. Maybe go for a nice walk in the…. Swamp.. Ok, maybe he hadn't thought that far ahead but this wasn't part of the plan! He shrinks against the boards, clutching his bow to his chest and thinks dead thoughts, hoping his general demeanor will convince whatever is out there that they're just wasting ammunition now.
As the arrows whistle overhead, a single Yuan Ti Pureblood huddles down as much as possible against the walls of the boat. The terrified Yuan Ti has golden hair with pink tips, cut to shoulder length with tattered clothes under her leather armor. A fiddle is her cleanest item, strapped to her back and strung up with seemingly translucent filament. As the arrow slams into the boat with a thunk, the Yuan Ti calls out: ”I hate archers. How much farther?”
Haforq is a Green Grung, you've not heard him speak in common once the entire time that he's been in your presence. He's seemed to understand the meaning of what you've said or if he just had a good idea of what the intent was. He seems more...energized the journey so far. While the arrows are flying every which way Haforq is methodically dragging his bolts through his back secretions before loading them into his crossbow, jumping nearly 25 feet into the air before firing his bolt, before landing onto the ground to load another one. The way that the Grung goes about this business makes every think...'Hes done this kind of Grungrilla warfare before'. Haforq looks towards Ssylvaani and says something to her in a language (likely) none of you understand before loading another bolt, hopping into the air and firing once more.
Malakis "What is that unintelligible freak up to? He'll get us all kil- oh. Wow. Do you think he's done this kind of Grungrilla warfare before? He seems quite proficient at it...." Bouyed up by his colleague's psychotic disregard for their own safety, his hand on the bow clasped to his bosom slips from reverential horn to conspiratorial grip, the other making a practiced dive into his quiver for a hungry arrow. Oh gods, this is how it ends. In a beggars rags, in a piss stained boat (oh no! The deposit!), in the company of vagabonds and fools.
Astraia reflexively winced as an arrow whizzed off her shield. The swamps had thus far not met her expectations. The glowing fruit was spot on, but there were far fewer fire flies and dancing nymphs. No dancing at all, in fact. Her boatmates were quite boring and several did not seem to approve of her dancing on the boat. These people seriously needed to lighten up. They were going on a treasure hunting adventure in a swamp! How spectacularly magical!
Then there were these jerks who were trying to skewer her with arrows! She gave them a very friendly wave and even sung them a cute satyr greeting as their boats passed and out of nowhere they suddenly started shooting! What is with all these people!!
Petros drops to the ground, being narrowly missed by an arrow shooting through the air. The young Vedalken tentatively grasps the side of the boat and peeks over, trying to get a look at whatever is attacking. He immediately lowers his head back down, seeing another volley of arrows flying towards the boat. He originally embarked on this journey to learn the source of the treasure he'd been hearing so much about. An arrow's tip splinters through the hull of the ship as Petros unslings his crossbow, placing it on the wood beneath him as he hurriedly rummages through his pack for a bolt. “W-who is shooting at us?!” He yells, shakily.
'Does it really matter?' the elf hisses back, his head bobbing up over the gunwale for a split second as he tries to catch a glimpse of their predators. 'Maybe you can ask them when all our heads are on sti-Hanali's curtains! That was close. I can't get a clear look. Hairy buggers though, twitchy looking. Ratmen! Are there ratmen? Oh, lost Arvandor, am I your humble servant to be slain by low beasts with opposable thumbs? What have I ...I mean we, we done to deserve their ire?'
"Damn you, Astratia! Give me my gold back!!!" Yells the bandit who is in charge of this group of highwaymen.
“What are you talking about?! I would never steal!” Astraia shouted back over the boats. “Quit trying to hurt me and these boring people... I mean my friends and we can talk about it!”
"Talk!?" Another volley of arrows rain down "Sure we will 'talk' once you are yours hang over the gold you took off me. Plus all your worldly possession as a tax."

Smart Goblin

When Dorrus realizes just how many arrows are hailstorming the boat, he drops his shortbow and crude arrow in the bottom of the boat and crawls underneath one of the seats where his pack is. You can hear an exclamation of satisfaction as he found what he was looking for. He stood on the seat with a peculiar cube in his hands. He then used a spindly green finger to press down on one of its sides... All of the arrows seem to strike some invisible surface surrounding boat, clattering harmlessly into the water. The goblin chatters in goblin. Then moves his arms frantically in a rowing motion.
The highwaymen release arrows at the boat containing our heroes, and they clatter off some invisible wall and plop into the swamp waters. Haforq, the grung, hops about 8 feet into the air when they're struck with a jolt as their clothing refuses to move through the barrier. They manage to land in a way that disperses the blow from the fall and prevents any immediate damage. Astraia will sit down near an oar to the gondola and begin rowing, propelling the boat forwards.
"Quit wasting arrows! Damn you Astraia you won't get away!"
Ssylvaani will begin calling out of the boat for snakefriends...
Seeing the arrows and frog people contained and corralled by seemingly nothing, Mal sits up, straightens his hair out of his eyes and takes a peek over the side of the boat to see how much trouble they're in. Then, with a mighty flex of his twig-thin arms, he attempts to assist in propelling the boat further in the general direction it was already going. Alas, he is built for purloining, not paddling, and does little good in his rowing efforts.
Now that arrows aren't flying over his head, Petros has a second to think somewhat clearly. He tries to rack his brain for who these assailants could be, perhaps they are part of a hostile tribe that lives in this swamp? He could have sworn he read something about this place before..
((You heard some rumors while in Port Ange of a group of bandits that often waylay travels in the swamp whom call themselves The Swamp Boys. They have been robbing sometimes murder folks around these parts for nearly a decade. Based on the comfort level in this area that who you imagine these guys to be.))
Remembering tales of a swamp-dwelling group called The Swamp Boys, Petros puts two and two together. “These bandits.. I think I heard about them in Port Ange. 'The Swamp Boys,' they're called.” Petros glances at an arrow embedded in the side of the boat's hull. “I'd advise against killing any of them, they may bring more to get revenge.. Moreso than they have already.”
When the grung makes no move to help row, the goblin pokes the grung with an oar and shakes the oar, barking in goblin, making a rowing gesture.
Haforq looks at the goblin before flicking some of the secreations from his skin at him and pointing to his crossbow to the enemies and than back again. After this action there is low ribbiting noises, assumedly Haforq is speaking in Grung, but...who knows. Dorrus lets our a grumble of frustration and huffs back to paddling.
"Asstraia!!!" Astraia makes a rude hand gesture towards the leader as she rows the gondola further away.
Mal begins chanting "Bong! bong!....Bong! Bong!..." To give the rowers a rhythm to work to.

Journey to Umbra

The Swamp Boys' mages continue to fire at you until you are out of range. You hear the leader of the group mocking you and swearing revenge as Cid takes back over and rows you out of ear shot. "Thanks for getting us out of there. I thought we were gonners for sure! It's about 2 hours to Umbra hopefully we'll have a less eventful trip the rest of the way."
Haforq waits until the bubble fades before looking at the goblin and showing him his light crossbow, showing him how he aims down it and pretends to pull the trigger - he points behind them to express his disgust that the bandits were allowed to live before sitting down. The goblin simply scowls at the grung and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.
Mal breathes a sigh of relief as the gondola slides beyond their assailants' range. 'well! I won't pretend I enjoyed it at the time but now I look back, that was quite the ride. I'll wager there's money to be made in this - bringing families out to observe the feral swamp folk in their natural habitat... We must talk more on our return.'
Petros stands up slowly, slinging his crossbow on to his back. “That was quite exciting, but I hope we don't meet those people again..”
”I completely agree. Letss continue on and never ssee them again.” Ssylvaani says while searching the swamp for some snake friends.
“So, I suppose that we should’ve figured this out before, but, does anyone speak goblin or... frog...? I’m not totally sure that those two can understand us.” Astraia said.
”I can call on ssome friendss but they may want to eat little frogiess rather than sspeak with them.” Ssylvaani claims while leaning over the edge.
Mal leans forward, intoning 'I can speak the language of the wind through the trees and the babbling brook carving a gully through bedrock. I think I can handle a little frog-ese.' He turns to the grung and shouts in common 'SIT! DOWN!'
The goblin glares about at everyone as he pushes a button on his cube. The force field dissipates and he wraps it in a cloth and sticks it in his pack under his seat.
Astraia cocks her head excitedly towards Malakis, <> “You speak Sylvan then?!”
<> 'I think this one has a head injury' he replies, nodding towards Astraia, 'we must hurry! Perhaps I should mind that heavy bag for you, poor dear....'
Astraia cocks an eyebrow, “That's not a very nice thing to say. And thanks, but I'm pretty sure that I'm stronger than you.” She then flexes her biceps and bursts into a fit of giggling.
'Look! Allergies have her limbs all swollen! This swamp is no place for so delicate a blossom...' but he makes no effort to relieve her of her burden, liking as he does his face still attached to his head.

Arrival in Umbra

The last leg of the journey to Umbra goes by without incident. As the gondola pulls into the docks of Umbra a Tortle holding a fishing pull looks up with bored interest at the new arrivals to Umbra before returning to whatever meditative thoughts the fisherman was having. Umbra itself is a keep made out of clay bricks on a small island. Surrounding the island is a series of buildings on wooden stilts coming out of the water. The homes and businesses are connected by wooden walkways. The walkways are lit every so often by lights. You can see fishermen seated all along the walkway practicing their craft. At the base of the keep you can see small buildings with a soft glow of light coming out the window, and smoke billowing from their chimneys. You can hear the sounds of men and women singing and laughing boisterous coming from a large building nearby. Only interrupting by what sounds like a person giving a mumbled and slurred speech. Followed by the sounds of loud glass clanking, and a ruckus cheering. You can see various merchants selling their wares from boats docked along the pier. Off to the east of the Keep is a tree with what appears to be man-sized crates hanging from a tree.
Cid the Swamp Guide waives off any attempt of the party to pay him stating “You guys saved my skin out there. I thought we were gooners for sure.” He says he’ll be sticking around town for a while, and if there is anything Cid Donary son of Vaz Donary can do for you while he is here. He will be glad to help.
“Oooo! That place sounds fun,” Astraia exclaims with a clap of her hands as she hops off the boat. “That’s where I think that we should go first so that we can sing and dance and drink and maybe get some food because I’m starting to get hungry and make some friends. Oh! And we could also talk to people and ask where people have been going and what they’ve been finding so that we can start looking for the TREASURE!!!”
Haforq looks to Malakis “You are the emodiement of an elf. You have provided nothing to the journey but negativity. While others fought to secure our safety and rowed to move us out of harms way you cowered and now that the effort has been completed you insult others for speaking a different tongue than you.” Haforq spits at Malakis feet.
Haforq than looks to Dorris and says “You saved the bandits lives. While you saved us injury, there was justice to be exhibited and those bandits will now harm others who have not the means of fighting back. Their deaths and injury are on your head.”
Haforq looks to Petros “I like you.”
Haforq looks to Astraia “I like your enthusiasm but let us keep things on the down low until we know who may be watching and are able to take a lay of the land.”
Haforq finally looks to Ssylvaani “If one of your snakes looks at me funny i will eat it and not think twice of it.” With that Haforq walks off his crossbow held in his hands as he walks towards a bar, resuming the facade that he neither speaks nor understands common.
Astraia just stares at Haforq walk down the docks with her jaw dropped. You have never seen her this motionless.
Mal looks down at the spit and back up at it's point of origin. “Are you just going to leave that there, where a young child might slip on it, fall, crack their skull open and lay there, a twitching mess, a carrion feast? That child has to die because you think I should get in the way of better rowers? Will the knowledge that you avenged some deluded, imagined slight be a comfort to their grieving mother? I say thee nay, Hopalong! Your callous attitude is as foul as the stench of your mucus! Now, while you clean that up, I think I hear full pockets calling me.” He turns on his heel, headed towards the sounds of revelry.
Realizing they're storming off in the same direction, he stifles a smile and maintains a comfortably awkward silence.
Dorrus stares at the grung, bewildered. And thinks about using his magic cube to push the grung off the docks. He grumbles under his breath with teeth clenched.
Ssylvaani just watches the scene unfold as she looks back to the water's edge. She then casts a spell, producing a translucent filament which she ties to her fiddle. ”That is a memory I'd rather not keep.”
After finally shutting her mouth, Astraia points to Dorrus, “Can you talk too?”
The unpleasant goblin simply scowls and grumbles in goblin.
Astraia shrugs, plucks at one of Ssylvaanis fiddle strings with a wink then heads toward the city.
Petros shakes his head, watching the elf and grung walk off towards the bar. Walking with the group towards the buildings on stilts, he turns to Astraia. “Those bandits, I heard them shouting your name as we fled. They sounded fairly resentful.. Do you know why they were after you?”
“Well, I don't know exactly. And I don't know how he knew my name. But maybe he knew the person that I actually accidentally got arrested back in Port Ange.” Astraia seems thoughtful for a moment before continuing on. “You see, I met this guy, his name was Jorma. He was human with orange hair, which I had never seen before! And he seemed a bit like a creep, but also like he was okay. And I was bored and he was bored, and he wasn't as stuffy as most of the people that I've run into recently (no offense). So we sang and danced some and played some games. He wasn't like suuuper fun to be around, but I didn't see any satyrs or eladrin (they're usually the most fun for me to be with). And then eventually he was talking about how he could drink so much and had never lost a drinking competition or something like that, so we started one of those. Now, I don't have the best tolerance in the world (because my dad always gets grumpy and stern and stuff if I get too drunk, but that's a story for another time).” Astraia's tail and ears droop a bit at the mention of her father, but then pick back up as she continues with her monologue. “But anyways, my tolerance is so-so, but I mostly drink with other satyrs and sometimes centaurs or leonins or eladrin (again, those are like the real elves, you know, from the fey wild, so they're really funny).”
“But Jorma, he didn't last too many drinks before he was done and reallllly drunk. So I decided to take him back to his place, which he managed to tell me more or less where that was. So I started taking barely conscious guy through Port Ange and after a little while I got lost and he was no help. Looking back at it, I think that I went straight past the statue of the naked lady, but I actually should've taken the street to the left. I don't ever get lost in Thas'ru (that's where I'm from), but I've never been to Port Ange before, so it was kind of confusing to walk around. So eventually, I found a guard station in the city and I walked in to ask for some help so I could bring the drunk person to his house. When I walked in they were at first like worried. Like, 'hey, what happened? Did you do that?' and stuff like that. But then they got really happy when they saw that it was Jorma. And they were like, 'good job! how did you do it!' and I guess he was wanted for doing some bad things (I don't really know what). And then the guards gave me the bounty which was this much money, which is pretty cool. So... yeah. I guess that's my story. Those people who shot at us must be mad at me because they actually really liked Jorma for some reason. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for anyone to be mad at me.”
Last Recorded Discord Message

Hero Roster

• Petros (Level 1 Vedalken Artificer)
• Dorrus (Level 1 Goblin Rogue)
• Haforq (Level 2 Grung Blood Hunter)
• Ssylvaani (Level 2 Yuan Ti Bard)
• Malakis (Level 1 High Elf Rogue)
• Astraia (Level 2 Satyr Barbarian)

Associated Articles

• Dragonsmoke Archipelago
• Quest Report: Rumble in the Swamp
  • Location
    • Island
      • Haige
        • Settlement
          • Port Ange
          • Umbra
        • Region
          • Swamp of Ethdalth
  • NPC
    • Zeeb, Gnome Archeologist
    • Cid the Swamp Guide
    • Jorma
• Organization
  • The Swamp Boys

Report Date

15 Jan 2021