KHAZUUL

Flint nods an emphatic no when one of the fishmen want to trade for his sword.

"I will die with my sword in hand and that's the only way I will be parted from it!" He adds a slight smile in an attempt to temper his reaction. "But we can get... " he points to his sword and the weapon of whoever in the group is standing nearest, "in another place." He waves in the direction of somewhere as he does his best to communicate with these odd fish people, nodding at Sow and Cutwell's proposal.

When the fishman reveals the rotten lotus Freki recoils at the smell. It stings his eyes. "Yes, fresh is better," he says in response to their proposition, wiping the tears. "We bring more nosh," he mimicks the action of thrusting with a spear.

As the fishmen pack up, Freki moves out to the courtyard to get some fresh air and discuss with the group.

"There's some spears back at the cache as well as Thorn's Immolator, but that's worth more than a few lotuses. Might be worth picking up one of those pack lizards at the same time so we can transport stuff better," he suggests as a next course of action.

"Who do you think are these Godmen are that they're referring to. Sounds like they're supplying the beastman with weapons," he adds with a bit of concern.

"Thorn's sword is worth a year's worth of lotus flowers. It's not something to part with easily. And besides, Thorn would be rolling in his grave, if he had one. I like the idea of grabbing spears and more less valuable weaponry for trading."

Thorn looks over at the fishman as though he can discern their motivations from a glance.

"That, Freki, is an important piece of information that we should discover," Flint says in answer to his Godmen question. "We don't want to play a part in strengthening the beastmen."

"If we ask too many questions, they’ll get suspicious, won’t they?" Cutwell thinks aloud, meaning their employers back at camp. They might be on the cusp of a good thing here, but speak wrong and their employers would take this find for themselves!

"Is the sword worth one of them dinosaurs?" he asks the others, wondering if the old shepherd might part with a pack animal for Thorn’s old steel, and keep to between them.

"You're right, we'll have to be careful, perhaps just keep our ears open for any hints of a faction that matches the description of Godmen," Freki agrees.

When Cutwell mention's the value of Thorn's sword, Freki remembers the strange feeling he had we he wielded the weapon against the Dreadwings.
"Even if I hadn't sworn to return it to his family, I think that sword is worth far more than that lizardherder's entire pack of dinos. It's hard to explain, but I think it might have been imbued with some sort of jungle magic during the aftermath of Thorn's firebomb and death. I sensed something from the sword when I cleaved that Dreadwing in two, a fire within it ... trying to come to life," he says sincerely, but then realizes what he's saying must sounds a bit crazy. He shakes his head in disbelief at his own words, but doesn't correct himself.

Flint senses Freki's discomfort. He thinks there is more to the dead marchguard's sword too. There were always rumors swirling around the barracks about such things but he'd never witnessed anything out of the ordinary either with his own sword or any of his compatriots.

"I think you're right, Freki. I was too hasty in undervaluing it."

The Veck are ready to leave and wave their webbed hands in salute. One speaks a farewell - "Tacka, Droogs!" while the other two chant out "Oooi Oooi OOOI!" one last time.

Just as they are turning to leave, one hesitates. It returns to Flint and looks up at him like a child. As if in an attempt to ensure no misunderstanding has happened, it repeats the deal. "Nosh!" it says, pointing again to Flint's sword. "Nosh!" it repeats, and then returns to the crates of rotting plant matter "Black Lotus!" The way it says Black Lotus runs the two words together as one - blaclotus. It then holds up five of them. It's last word is "Fresh," before the three depart deeper into the shadowy interior of the lodge.

You hear splashes of water, then silence.

Flint raises his eyebrows and makes a face, his expression a mix of humor and trepidation, as he turns to the others.

"They won't be getting my sword, that much is certain."

Sow explores the building while all this transpires, the hemming and hawing about swords and such, looking for a cellar, a locked room or closet — anything that might contain valuables that might have not yet been pilfered…

Cutwell shrugs. While special, the sword couldn’t carry a fortune’s worth of Black Lotus out of the frog man’s hut. Still, he knew of soldiers’ superstitions, and so didn’t argue the point.

"Back then, is it?" he says with a tired sigh, imagining all the trudging through wet swamp that lay ahead.

"Lets hope we don’t meet that big one again!"

The fishmen depart, and Sow begins to examine the lodge*. She finds the place is stripped down to the nails; mostly a large, empty room. You surmise that someone has beat you to ransacking it.

The one thing of interest you find is a trap door set in the floor that has been left wide open. This is clearly the way the Veck exited (and probably entered) the lodge. Stone stairs lead downward into dark, murky water. If it is like the Black Skull's main base of operations, this leads to an underground cellar, except this one has been flooded. There are scrape marks along the wooden floor that lead from the stairs to the crates of rotting black lotus - clearly the crates were pulled out from the flooded storerooms and popped open some time ago, maybe to speed up their fermentation.

This might lead some of you to you wonder - if the the fishmen found these crates below, could the cellar contain other unclaimed treasures? Is there a tunnel that leads elsewhere? Unless the fishmen are living below, they must go somewhere. However, the cellar is flooded nearly to the ceiling, and it would be very difficult to get a light down there without it getting wet.

Cutwell stands and grimaces, looking down at the flooded trapdoor at his feet.

"They might tell us what’s in there, will they? When we bring back the spears, I mean!"

Maybe if they brought back something a little extra, the odd denizens of the fort would be willing to part with something extra nice below.

"Less you fancy going for a swim?" he asks the woman, and his skin crawls at the thought of being wet again anytime soon.

"I'm not going down there!" Sow says sharply to the man, before adding, "but... there could be other supplies. Maybe even protected from the water..."

Descending part way, the former road warden uses the haft of her spear to test the depth of the water, and the softness of the soil and muck beneath...

"Could be where they piss!" Cutwell supposed, figuring that fish did that sort of thing! "Might come away with an infection!" he goes on, agreeing that going below was probably ill advised.

"Maybe they flooded this area on purpose. They are part fish aren't they? Probably need to get wet again after a time."

At Cutwell's comment, Flint curls his nose. "That's a disgusting thought, Cutwell. Thanks for that."

"I think Sow might be right. There could be more worth exploring here. Tunnels, other rooms, the fishmen home. But who wants to brave that water?"

"Yeah, definitely seems worth exploring, once we have the right equipment," Freki adds.

"Now that we've made friends, this seems like a good place to make camp tonight. Our shelter will fit nicely in the courtyard here and be out of sight inside the walls."

"Shall we use the afternoon to find some more food or even try to find some black lotus ourselves. I've got room to carry one. Then we can head back to the main camp tomorrow," Freki suggests.

After Freki's suggestion it doesn't take Sow long to put the magical hut in place; she likes the idea of overnighting inside the walls, and even doing some further searching for lotus and such inside and outside the compound, before dark...

"Whats-his-face will have our heads if we comeback empty handed, won’t he?" Cutwell grumbles unhappily.

"Best we find something to keep him off our arses until those fellas get us the lotus..." he goes on, wondering if the magical flute could be enough, if push came to shove.