Earthday, Fireseek 6, 591 Common Year

Gar wakes up before dawn, refreshed after a nice long night of being rocked by the boat like a baby. He heads up to the deck to meditate at the bow of the boat as the sky is just beginning to change colors.

Pulling his cape around his shoulders to keep warm, Gar follows his breath for a few minutes to center his mind and then he sits back to enjoy the light show of the morning dawn. It’s foggy and cold, but the colors still change from black to blue to shades of pink. The morning sun light dances like fire on the river as the fog slowly begins to pull back. Water blurs the line between earth and air with a dripping wet rag of fog that embraces all in an obscuring mist.

As Gar continues to watch the fog recede, now imbued with the miraculous powers of the Shalm, the god Obad-Hai, he hears something swimming up to the boat. Looking down he sees what appears to be a 20’ long serpent with reticulated emerald green patterns running the length of its body gliding through the dark waters. Then it stops by the bow and lifts its head out of the water. There is an uncanny beauty to its faintly human face, and its eyes seem to glow and draw Gar into their depths. His voice, for it seems to be male, is mellow and inviting, “It’s a nice morning for a swim don’t you think? Why don’t you come in and join me?”

Gar nods, thinking to himself, Yes, that would be pleasant. He gets up and prepares to dive in but then stops himself, What am I doing?! Gar finds his mind suddenly free of whatever compulsion the creature had put on him. But the creature itself is still there, its head swaying out of the water on a level with Gar, smiling expectantly. 

Gar gasps and steps back while his hand instinctually goes to his Green Man. “Well, hello there! Who are you?” Gar wonders if he can learn anything from him but is preparing to cough up his biggest blast of fire yet – just in case.

The creature rears its head up over the bow and says, “Oh you’re no fun. You really should come in. The water’s nice this morning. I am Lord Heslex, and this is my home you travel upon. Tell me, you don’t look like merchants. What is your name and what is your errand?”

“Greetings, Lord Heslex! You are a very handsome creature. I am Gar Dragonsbreath and I am on a mission sent by the Great Druidess to help bring balance and harmony to the Hool Marshes. Currently we seek the lizardfolk to help ease tensions between them and the humans over fishing rights. How are the fish in your river? Do you have enough to eat, milord?”

Indranil, startled to see Gar speaking to this river serpent, quietly draws his bow, nocks an arrow and takes aim. “Father Gar please step back and be careful. I do not like how this being approached us so stealthily before announcing itself, nor its seductive voice calling for you to join it in the water.”

Gar moves back another couple steps holding up his left hand, “Please don’t fire yet, Sir Indranil,” even as his right still touches his holy symbol of Obad-Hai, flaming breath ready. “It does sound fun,” responds Gar but still looking at Lord Heslex, “and I have not ruled it out quite yet, depending upon Lord Heslex’s response of course.”

“Please Father Gar, this is no time for your jokes,” Indranil says. “You are too important to this mission to take risks.”

Gar turns back to the serpent, “Lord Heslex, this is Sir Indranil, my protector. He asks a good question, milord, what are your intentions? Do you want to eat me for breakfast?”

“Sir Indranil, pleased to meet you,” says Heslex turning his gaze upon Indranil. “You are a loyal friend, but I think you can put that bow away. We are all friends here.”

Indranil, forewarned by Gar’s previous reaction, shifts his gaze from the serpent’s hypnotic eyes to its body. He easily resists the lull of Heslex’s voice. Behind him, he hears Ragnbjorn on the deckhouse warning the others to stay back.

“I am afraid I am more trusting than my good friend here, milord,” says Gar, “and quite frankly I feel a little safer with him at the ready, but I am inclined to trust you,” Gar let’s go of his amulet, “and call you friend. I am still curious milord if the river offers you enough bounty to live and thrive?”

Heslex smiles grandly and pulls his head back, “How remarkable, no human in these parts has been so courteous to me in a very long time.” He dips his head in respect to Gar. “I ask your pardon for trying to enthrall you,” he looks to Indranil, “And I ask your pardon as well. Most humans would have shot first and not even bothered to ask questions. So I thought it best to be cautious myself, at the risk of being discourteous. I am of the Water Naga, and we have been doing well enough, though I must tell you that we have found more nets and traps than usual this year, and this is more than a nuisance to us and others. You say you are seeking the lizardfolk to ease tensions, but you seem to be a military expedition judging from what I have seen. Is there to be more war and fighting upon the river?” He asks this with a note of sadness.

Indranil lowers his bow, letting its draw ease to slack, but keeps the arrow nocked with the bow hanging low from his waist and says, “Great dragon you honor us!”

Heslex chortles and says, “Oh I am not one of the mighty ones, though I know sometimes we nagas are called dragons. I thank you for your compliment however.”

Gar says, “Thank you, milord Heslex. I met a naga king’s daughter recently, a Lady Sauraa and I find you both quite charming. But yes, unfortunately you know how humans are, armed for war to bring about peace. We hope for peaceful passage but we are prepared for the worst.”

“Oh really!” replies Heslex in surprise.

Ragnbjorn clears his throat quite loudly from the deckhouse, “Ahem! Yes, Lady Sauraa, the daughter of King Sagara of the Guardian Nagas has been around from time to time so we are acquainted with her. Her business is of course her own, and not ours.”

“Oh indeed. Indeed.” says Heslex. He rolls his eyes and says, “Far be it from me to involve myself in the affairs of the high and mighty Guardian Naga.” He turns back to Gar and gazes at his Green Man pendant, “But you, I see, are a devotee of the Shalm, are you not? If you are, have you come to see the balance restored, even for the lizardfolk? Or have you been talked into joining their crusade to impose order and righteousness across the land, even here amid the bogs and quagmires of the Hool Marsh?”

“Yes, I seek balance for all involved, milord,” responds Gar, “especially the lizardfolk. My views have already gotten me into hot water with my comrade here, and quite frankly, I’d like to feed you a fisherman or two but… the others would not like that, I fear.”

Heslex laughs upon hearing that. “Well, any friend of the Shalm, Obad-Hai, is a friend of mine. I know what you mean about the fishermen, but they are not the only ones who think only of themselves and not of the whole. Well, good luck to you Father Gar. I think you will need it. First of all because if you don’t hurry, you may find that there are no lizardfolk left to negotiate with. Secondly, because you will have a much easier time finding Amedi warriors in the marshes, if they don’t find you first. Thirdly, those Amedi have changed for the worse, though I would scarcely have thought that possible even a few months ago. They follow some human death cult now, as they seem to be devoted to a once forgotten god named Thanatos. At least that is the name they cried out before I made a light snack out of a few of them.” Laughing uproariously, Heslex dives back into the depths of the river and disappears.

Gar looks wide eyed at  Indranil and Ragnbjorn and then he bursts out laughing too. “Well that’s a few less Amedi to worry about!”

Indranil says, “Amedi warriors on the increase and now following a Thanatos death cult? It certainly explains what we saw coming in. All this evil surrounding us – they cannot all be unrelated. I think this expedition will be difficult.”

“Yes, and he said we need to make haste if we want to find the lizardfolk,” adds Gar. “It will be very difficult to bring balance back to such disharmony.”

As the others wake up around dawn and Captain Olnut and Uglash organize their crew, the other members of the morning watch discuss what they just witnessed as they head down into the hold to get their morning rations.

Frost says, “What kind of man is he, talking to dragons like that?”

“It wasn’t a dragon,” says Ferro, “that was some kind of sea serpent!”

“A sea serpent?!” exclaims Dale. “This is a river! That was no sea serpent. And since when do sea serpents stop to talk anyway?”

“Look, I don’t know what that was,” says Frost, “but I’m keeping my distance from Gar. He has some strange friends.”

“You’ve got that right,” broods Dale.

Fingol clears his throat testily and then heads topside.

On hearing the crew talking about Gar, Aramek says to Rain, “I’m going up top. I have to hear from Gar what just happened. You want to come up with me?”

Rain says, “Sure” and shakes her head in amusement, then heads topside with Aramek to talk with Gar.

Ragnbjorn, seeing Fingol, Rain, and Aramek coming up on deck waves them over to the bow. He then sends a passing member of the watch down to get Sgt. Apone and Lorindel.  “Gather round everyone,” says Ragnbjorn. “I think you all need to hear this. Gar, go ahead and tell them.”

Gar begins, “This morning after my meditation, the Lord of the River Javan, a water naga named Lord Heslex, paid us a visit. I rather suspect I looked like a tasty morsel for breakfast, but he was a nice guy and rather surprised that I wasn’t afraid of him, even after he tried to enthrall me into swimming with him. I think we ended as friends. Well, if by ‘friend’ one means that we lowered our weapons and shared information before he dived back back into the depths of the river.” Gar then relates what Lord Heslex told him.

“Aye, Father Gar has it right,” says Indranil when Gar finishes. “The situation started off with a scare though and I was greatly worried for Father Gar. Lord Heslex approached us stealthily, reared up over the gunwales above Father Gar, and spoke to enthrall him. Father Gar was in great danger and there would have been little we could have done to save him had Lord Heslex attacked. It was a narrow thing indeed. While Sir Ragnbjorn and I had Lord Heslex triangulated with our bows and might have killed him, we would not have been able to save Father Gar as he was so close. Father Gar managed to maintain his composure and presence of mind and deescalated the situation finding common ground with Lord Heslex that prevented bloodshed and obtained us excellent insight into the situation in the Hool that will greatly aid our expedition.”

Indranil, then bows to Gar, “Father Gar, my compliments to you.”

“Thank you, Sir Indranil, for trusting that I could romance the snake,” bows Gar in return, “and I may still take Lord Heslex up on his offer to go for a swim. I find the thought… titillating, to say the least.” Gar blushes slightly and smiles warmly.

Ragnbjorn frowns and says, “Father Gar, you might want to rethink that. I believe Lord Heslex finds you delectable in a way that you might not enjoy.”

Fingol muses silently, Hopefully, Lord Heslex doesn’t demand his breakfast be too straight.

Rain leans over to Aramek, “Soooo glad we didn’t make this trip on our own.”

Then to Fingol Rain asks, “So… how does this change our plans?”

Fingol muses, “Father Gar is a surprising fellow. I suppose his odd approach to life is why he was chosen for this diplomatic mission. But was the threat to the lizardfolk put plainly? That’s to say, do we know what is going to attack them, or are we left to infer that it is the Amedi warriors?”

“My guess would be the Amedi warriors and their death cult,” says Ragnbjorn. “But you are right, he did not say that. It was only inferred.”

“And we have yet, five days of travel as we’ve laid the trek out.” Fingol states, ”Can we cut that time down at all? And do we take the fishing delegation with us, or leave them somewhere relatively safe?”

Indranil says, “I am inclined to send a messenger pigeon with a full report to the Prince and request reinforcements of paladins and priests. I think we might be heading into a full-scale battle. Sir Ragnbjorn, what do you think?”

Gar wags his finger, “Gentlemen, more warriors are not necessary to restore balance to the marsh. Besides, we can move faster with less people. Sir Fingol, we can always offer the fishermen to appease any marsh monsters. They’ll be safe with us until then,” Gar smiles widely, “and so each will uphold the balance of nature in their own way.”

Rangbjorn responds, “Well, unfortunately we do not have any messenger pigeons on board. However, I believe there should be some at the trading post. We should reach it by tomorrow afternoon. Unfortunately we can’t get there any faster. We could turn back to Westkeep, but I think time is of the essence. We should get to the trading post, and then those of us who are stealthy and good at tracking should head out and see if we can find the lizardfolk. That would be the Marinus brothers, Fingol, and I. We’d need to scout out the area anyway before we call in troops. Also, I think it will be some time before the Prince can spare any paladins or clerics outside Westkeep; and again, we need to find those lizardfolk before they are all driven off or killed if we want to head off the prophecy of the Great Druidess.”

Indranil says, ”Father Gar, while your diplomatic skills are exceptional, I respectfully ask you to defer to those of us with military training. If the Hool is full of Amedi war parties under the spell of Thanatos, as Lord Heslex states, then our meager diplomatic expedition will be quickly overcome. You were not there when attacked by the ghouls. Trust me when I say they were fearsome and ungodly strong. Three of them almost overcame Sir, Ragnbjorn, Sir Lorindel, and I.”

Gar shrugs, “It sounds like you needed a cleric out there; good thing I am here to help you next time to deal with those pesky undead. Certainly, military strategy is up to Sir Ragnbjorn and the rangers, but don’t expect me to be silent when I don’t like your ideas, my friend.” Gar smirks at Sir Indranil. “It works both ways, you know.”

Fingol takes a breath, and then stifles the thought of getting in the middle of this little row.

Ragnbjorn says, “Yes, a cleric would have been most handy. I daresay if we run into any more ghouls or other type of undead things will go a little easier on us with you around. However, let’s get back to the present problem. I say again that time is of the essence. We can’t turn back now, and even if the Prince could spare reinforcements, which he can’t, we need to get to the trading post as fast as we can and see what is going on. We rangers, and our scout Lorindel, can go see if we can locate Chief Rahk and the Malarat tribe. We can make the best time and move unseen through the marsh. If necessary, we can follow any tracks or other signs to lead us to the lizardfolk or else to warn us of the Amedi. The rest of you under the protection of Sgt. Apone and his troops can stay back and keep the boat ready to move. Once we know what is going on out there for good or ill, we can report back to the Prince and receive further instructions or reinforcements.”

Fingol responds, “Yes sir!”

Gar gives a thumbs-up to signal his agreement, but for once is silent.

Sgt. Apone says, “I certainly have no objection. My men and women and I are with you Sir Ragnbjorn.”

“Agreed,” says Indranil.

Aramek chimes in with, “Are you going to need my services on this foray?”

Ragnbjorn gives Aramek an appraising once over and says, “You’re that hedge-wizard Captain Bodwyn recruited aren’t you? Unless you’ve got any skills at tracking or moving unseen and unheard through marsh that we haven’t been told about, you’d better stay back with your squad.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Aramek says with a bow.

Rain gives Lorindel a look, as though to say, See if you can get me included on the scouting expedition.

“I’m ready to move out when you give the word,” says Lorindel. “Also – if I may – I think bringing Rain along could prove useful. I’ve learned she possesses some tracking skills albeit more urban in nature. But they could be advantageous if we come across any settlements that are more sophisticated than mere villages. Anyway, just a thought,” says Lorindel as he flashes a wink in Rain’s direction.

Rain winks back.

Fingol thinks, Huh, so now she’s even manipulating other people into doing favors for her.

Ragnbjorn looks at Rain, “Urban tracking skills huh? That’s nice. I think Rain,” and here he gives her a stern look, “that you might be better employed watching over your teammates. Don’t you?”

Rain responds, “Yes sir.”

As the day progresses, the skies are clear and there is a low breeze that is just enough to fill the sail of the Javan Queen. Unfortunately, it also becomes unseasonably hot. The heat and humidity are stifling, and the air itself seems heavy in everyone’s lungs. Clouds of insects are so thick in places that they look like clouds of smoke swirling in the air. Sweat trickles down foreheads and stings as it bypasses already soaked eyebrows and runs into eyes. Clothes are soaked in sweat and cling like a second skin. Armor becomes unbearably stifling. The hair of the crew and the delegates who are wearing no helmets is damp, while those wearing helmets feel as if they are being slowly steamed.

Ragnbjorn finally says, “If this keeps up, we’re all going to die of heat stroke, never mind the Amedi or the lizardfolk. Sgt. Apone, tell your men to take their armor and helmets off and keep themselves cool. It should only take a minute to get their armor back on if we spot anyone coming towards us if we keep to the center of the river. Also, have them dip their tabards and shirts over the side and wet them.” Ragnbjorn follows his own advice and takes off his own helmet and mithril armor, laying it beside his shield in the deckhouse.

“Remove my armor?” questions Lorindel with a bit of rising panic in his voice. “Sir, we’ve seen how bad it can be getting caught with one’s pants down – no offense brother. Still though,” Lorindel reconsiders, “I doubt the benefits gained from my armor would outweigh what would be lost due to fatigue. With that, Lorindel removes his chain shirt.

Fingol takes his armor off, storing it next to his father’s. He puts his swords back on.

Indranil also takes off his armor but leaves it lying within his grasp.

Captain Olnut, wiping the sweat from his eyes with a cloth, opens up all the shutters on the deckhouse to allow the air to circulate through it as much as possible. He also has buckets of water drawn from over the side to splash down the crew on the bow and stern.

Despite taking off their armor and wetting themselves down, Fingol and the Marinus brothers find themselves all cramped and weakened from the heat and humidity. Ragnbjorn laughs gently and sends them into the deckhouse to get out of the sun. “Don’t worry, I can’t say you ever get used to this kind of heat and humidity, but you’ll eventually learn to live with it.”

Gar, recognizing that if enthralled by a monster one will sink like a stone, had never bothered to put on his armor. In fact, it’s so warm he takes off all his clothes to bathe in the sun. However, after a few minutes of swatting flies and mosquitoes with appendages flying in every direction, Gar puts on his cloak as an insect repellent but likes the ventilation. So it is that by noon, Gar can be found hanging lolling about like a child at the stern wearing only boots, a cloak, and his amulet. Rubbing the Green Man with his left hand, Gar sends a Storm Blast spraying into the air with his right so that it rains down on him to wet his cloak and hair. The others can hear him squeal, “Whee!” as he does so.

For a moment, Gar contemplates diving into the water to swim alongside the boat. As he looks out over the river he sees the back of something huge and scaly break the water’s surface and then dive deep. It was bigger than any relative of a lizard that Gar had ever seen, and the coloring was different than the emerald green of Lord Heslex, but it was impossible to tell what it might have been from the brief glance that he had. All that Gar can be sure of is that there is something huge beneath the waters. He decides that taking a swim might not be the best idea.

As they continue upriver they pass a turtle sitting on a log, unmoving, as if it is too hot to even slip back into the water. The Hool Marshes, usually filled with life and activity, is now uncannily quiet as even the birds have fallen silent and the living creatures of the swamp seek shade or the coolness of the waters. Farther out over the river two large herons fly lazily across the swamp. Everywhere there is a thick haze of moisture; and everyone soon feels as though they have been out in the rain, but it is only the effect of the heat and overpowering humidity.

Around noon the river begins to wind its way through fields of grasses with long thin leaves growing on little hillocks. The gray-green grasses form clumps, filling in and building on tiny higher, more secure spots in the sodden land. Between areas stabilized by the grasses, the ground is muddy and covered with tiny, fast-growing plants that do nothing to stabilize it. Making their way through these grassy areas a herd of perhaps a dozen deer are spotted. 

As the day wears on into the late afternoon, it gets cooler and Fingol approaches Indranil. “Sir Indranil, I am going mad with nothing to do until we arrive at the trading post. Perhaps this is the time to make right my oversight of the other day. You noted in our bout that I was able to control the initiative through our fight. There are a series of tactics, stances and moves I was taught to assist in this. I should have offered to show them at the time, but as I recall Father Gar was demanding more attention than usual. Would you like me to walk you through them now? It will take more than one session to show you all that you would need to know. Practice is necessary to perfect them also, but it’s nothing beyond a fighter of your ability. Who knows, it may even break the tension of this wait and put this time to some use.”

Indranil responds, “Sir Fingol, I gladly accept! I confess I too am growing bored and welcome a chance to take my mind off the stifling heat and constant harassment from the bugs – and it’s only the second day!”

Fingol musters all the enthusiasm he can in the heat. “Excellent! We won’t be sparring, so we don’t need the padded weapons we had in the practice ring. In fact, we can just use handles or other tools from the boat.” Fingol gathers up the necessary items finding a good spot for the practice.

The rest of the day goes by without any further incident and gradually cools off until evening. Ragnbjorn pulls Fingol and the Marinus brothers aside to tell them what he knows of weather lore. Watching the setting sun, he predicts that there will be rain and high winds for the next day or two, but after that it will probably be much more pleasant, though probably windy. “Of course, that will be much preferable to this damnable sticky heat, as long as it isn’t too windy.”

Just as Ragnbjorn predicted, it rains all the next morning with strong winds from the west. The sail is taken down, and the rowers struggle against the current. Sgt. Apone even has his troops take turns at the oars. The rain stops around noon, but the winds continue throughout the rest of the day. This is a blessing however, for while still warm, it is not as hot or as humid as the day before.

Rain spends much of her free time up on deck, or while it’s raining in the deckhouse, playing her flute solemnly as if in accompaniment to the wind itself. The memories of her previous life have come to haunt her as this is the first time she has been away from Westkeep since she fled there. Though not as overpowering as she had thought they might be, she still sees visions of her dead father, slain by her own hand, slipping into view from the corner of her vision as if appearing from out of the marsh fog. The difference is that that now she can look at it. Now she can deal with it. Apparently time does heal wounds, she muses to herself and smiles ever so slightly at the thought.

Aramek strips down to his braies and goes up on deck to enjoy the wind, pelting rain and the coolness. It reminds him of his childhood, out in the woods with Snoop. He had especially enjoyed rainy days splashing in the creek down by the willow tree where he and Snoop first met.

Snoop, is of course a bit indignant about having to sit by his master, in the rain, exposed to the elements, but that certainly doesn’t stop him from sticking by Aramek. After all, if he didn’t protect Aramek, who would?

Lorindel stays above deck. Though his bow is on his back, he vigilantly scans the shoreline ahead.

Indranil and Fingol continue practicing their swordplay, now fully armored.

Gar hangs out with Rain, at least when she is playing he does, listening to her notes that seems to ride on the winds. When the liquid sky seems to fuse with the earth and the river, Gar is inspired by her music to test himself further. Rubbing his little Green Man, he steps out from under the deck roof. Looking up into the heavens and then to Rain, he says, “May Obad-Hai bless my fire with song.” He thus attempts to breathe small fire darts into the rain, rhythmically in tune with the wind and Rain. At first he can only breath one out every six seconds or so. Before moving past this failed experiment, Gar closes his eyes in deep meditation while reaching into the place where lava meets his soul. Communing with his god Obad-Hai, Gar tries again. Revving up his molten nature, visualizing complete control of the flame, Gar breathes one half of a fire bolt, but with his lips held tightly closed, cheeks puffed out and now glowing rosily. He then attempts to let out the licking flames a little at a time in tune with the music. This time it works.

Rain enjoys this tremendously as she has very seldom shared her music with other performers and never with one as odd as Gar. Rain laughs and comments to Gar during a break between the Fire and Rain suite, as she thinks of it, “Now you just need to learn to juggle, you can blow fire for emphasis between tossing torches or something… I have seen fire breathers do that.”

Gar laughs out loud, “Well, we need to do something to pass the time. I did a little juggling when I was younger but I’m probably not very good at it anymore. Is there anything around here I might juggle? Daggers perhaps?” Gar smiles wickedly.

Rain returns the laughter and replies, “I suggest keeping to juggling what you are best at, friend priest – your wit.”

Smiling, Gar replies, “Yes, I suppose you are right, though either could get us killed.”