Chapter 1: Departure (Day 2)

From what the party can tell, these creatures are the remains of merchant guards that were often hired to protect shipments back and forth across the lake. Their clothing, armor, weapons, all suggest this. Even before the War, bad weather could often sink boats on the lake, so these could well be the drowned remains of guards that died years ago, for all you can tell.

Ephwrath determines that Epau is unconscious, though bleeding badly. Muoghan the alchemist steps forward at Ephwrath's question, and offers him a vial from her belt. "Healing extract. It should help," she says flatly. She has something of the hundred-yard stare in her eyes. The combat must have shaken her.

Heira says nothing in response to Ephwrath's kind words, but turns away, her hair falling across her face to conceal her emotion. Kramat sheathes his sword and sets his shield down for the moment. "We should all think about getting off the island," he suggests. There's little hint of his previous cockiness. "If there were two of these things, there's a good chance there's more."

Epau blinks slowly as the potion and Ephwrath's efforts take effect. "Stars and moon," he groans. "That was... ghastly."

He pokes tentatively at his side where just moments before his life was spilling out of him. "Thank you," he says to Ephwrath and Muoghan. "I hope I never have to go through that again. It was like..." He shudders. "Never mind."

Kramat grunts. "Not particularly," he says. "But at the very least, we should probably go see what's available. Maybe there's..." He trails off and waggles his stubby fingers in what must be a 'spell-casting' gesture. "You know."

As the two groups head down toward the harbor proper, you can see movement at the docks. Few boats remain afloat; not surprising, given the likely neglect since the War's end. There are some wide vessels out at the end of one of the smaller dock areas that look surprisingly stout and sturdy. As you study them from a distance, you see a few small humanoid creatures milling about on their decks. They walk with a sort of hopping gait, with long skinny legs and broad flat torsos. The more you look, the more you realize that they look surprisingly like frogs that stand on their hind legs, the largest of them about three feet tall. They wear no clothing, but it looks like one or two of them carry short knives on a shoulder belt.

As you watch, another leaps from the water next to the boat and lands deftly on four feet before it too stands up on its hind legs. It carries a crude net that appears to have at least a few fish wriggling around in it. The others on that boat shuffle-hop closer to take a look at the catch. They talk to one another in croaks and burps; if it's a language any of you understand, you're too far away to make out what they're saying.

If nothing else, they haven't noticed you yet. It's hard to know at this point whether or not they'd be hostile