Prologue: The Jolly Wanderer

Korrin assesses the wounded woman's wounds and tears off part of her sleeve and applies a bandage to her shoulder wound, as the bite does not look as serious as the spear wound, bit the wound seems to be worse than it looks.

"Hey is anyone a healer? This wound is beyond my capabilities... Anyone can jump in if they like, if I take my hand off this wound she may bleed out...Helllooooo?"! and he continues to apply pressure until help arrives...

With the frogmen dead and the battle won, Raskell still held his weapons in a death grip for a moment, the heat in his body cooling as the reality of the situation sunk in: it was over. Caked in mud, blood from Rada's felling blow and sore from his escape from a watery demise, he couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle; not one of mirth or joy, but genuine, bona fide relief.

The small stranger snapped him back to reality. Dropping his sword and shield without concern with a clang and a squelch, the chef dropped to his knees beside the injured Annika.

"Solra! Snap out of it! Annika needs help!" the half-orc shouted pleadingly to his clerical confidant, his voice an odd amalgam of heated panic and undirected anger for what had happened as he flung the laden leather satchel from his shoulder and into the mud. In any other situation, Raskell would have sooner lost a finger than what he was about to do, but he was riled up, and in the moment emotion took precedence over logic. Unceremoniously, he tore through his backpack with haste, foisting his beloved and elaborate cookware out into the grime beside him to dig deeper, removing a slightly waterlogged but still usable healer's kit that had been shuffled to the bottom of his pack when the Jolly Wanderer must have gone into the drink.

"Hold still, Annika. We'll get you all patched up and Solra'll make you right as rain," Raskell murmured, intensely focused on the task in front of him as he surveyed Annika's injuries. He was no sawbones, but Raskell had learned enough between the kitchen and the militia to bind a wound or two; he only needed to stop the bleeding long enough for Solra to return to her wits. Liberating a roll of bandages and some herbal ointment from the container, he pressed the salve hard into each wound, wrapping the linen gauze snuggly enough to ward off the flood of crimson pouring from the brave woman's body. It wasn't pretty when he finished, but it was effective enough for what it was worth.

When all is said and done, Raskell leans back, taking a seat right there in the damp earth as he caught his breath. It'd been a while since he'd felt so much adrenaline; it was wearisome, but also oddly exhilarating in a primal, alien way that made him feel uneasy. But the moment was done; he just needed a second. He peered across at the rest of those around him -- those who'd stepped into the fray, and those who'd needed protecting.

"Everyone else okay?"

With the battle over, much to the relief of Rhys, he walks over to the frogmen and rummages through their belongings. He pulls out an intact bolt with a sickening squelch, wiping off the gore upon the carcass. "Well now. This coulda been avoided." he tuts at their foolishness. The importance of communication is a hard-learned lesson for these fellows, and one that came a little late.

It seems he's in a crew of esteemed combatants unafraid to tangle with foes of a strange kind. He watches Raskell's efforts to stabilise the injured woman, approving of his apparent skill to patch wounds up, and of the halfling's efforts.

"Might be there's more of 'em. I don't recommend we stick around to find out."

Melianne drops down her hand which is still clutching the horn, and watches all the activity around the clearing with a somewhat lost expression. She... doesn't really know what she is supposed to do now. She was going to check on the wounded human woman before, but the latter is already being tended to by Raskell and the yet-unknown halfling - and Melianne doesn't wish to get in their way with her limited knowledge of treating burns and not much else. And she'd rather not see the frog bodies up close...

Nervously straightening the silk scarf on her waist and putting away the horn just to do something, Melianne takes a second to check on the surrounding. The short burst of adrenaline the battle granted her had all but faded, leaving the dancer unsure and out of her element. A group of fierce, blood-splattered skilled mercenaries is not her scene - she might deal well with such people in a tavern amidst music and fun, with easy camaraderie, but not in some forsaken swamp! Does she approach?

Her slightly panicked thoughts are interrupted when she notices movement to her right, and suddenly remembers the dwarf woman... who is still at the shore, and seems to be clutching some wooden wreckage. Firebird glances back at the others, her eyes seeking out Raskell. Since the half-orc is Solra's friend - or lover? both? - from what Melianne had gathered, she should probably fetch him. But he looks busy bandaging Annika, and there is never a good time to distract a doctor at work.

With a sigh, Melianne turns and hesitantly starts walking up to the dwarf, still unsure if she's crossing an unspoken line and is even welcome. She moves deliberately slowly and steps on every branch she can on the way to alert Solra to her approach, since the latter appears to be stressed, and stops just in reach from the other woman. "Darling, are you alright?" Firebird makes anothjer step forward, and gently puts a hand on Solra's shoulder. "You should move away from the water, you'll catch a cold. Here, let me help you get up?"

Korrin sees the the big half orc has stemmed the flow of blood on the woman ans she appears to be out of danger. He pats the half orc on the shoulder as he stands up and looks around.

His first piece of business is to wipe his weapons clean before stowing them, while he silently berates himself for not having a healers kit... Will have to get one as soon as possible.

Secondly he needs to secure the rest of his equipment before it all washes away, he coils up his rope, checking its condition as he does so and secures it back on his pack along with his trusty shovel/oar, then finally hefts his pack before going over to help the woman to convince the dwarf lass to just stand up already.

He eyes the situation with a smile on his face and just walks over and taps the dwarf on the shoulder. "Lass you can let go now, you have been safely ashore for a few minutes now, there is someone in need of a true healer as the battle is over now as well."

Solra's knuckles are white from her near death-grip upon the floatsam, the gentle voice of Melianne barely reaches her consciousness but her continued efforts sink deeper in slowly peeling back the layers of fear that overcame her earlier. By the time Korrin arrives Solra is already nearly ready to attempt to leave the sanctity of her refugee. At Korrin's words she nods and says, "Alright," followed by fearfully and ever so carefully maneuvering until she has semi-solid ground under her feet and then carefully makes her way out of the water backpack in hand. Once upon drier ground, she looks at them and turns to Melianne and nods in respect towards her, "Thank you for rescuing me here." Then she turns to Korrin and nods in respect, "Thank you for rescuing me from out there," she points out into the river. "I owe both of you a debt of honor, if you need anything just ask. Now where is or are those in need of healing?"

"You are welcome, dear," Melianne steps back to give Solra space, while giving her a quick once-over in case the dwarf herself is in need of medical help. She doesn't seem to be, only soaked with Galfer's water - like all of them, - and maybe still a bit nervous. The dancer can certainly relate, now that there is time to process everything that just happened.

"Our companions are tending to Annika," she gestures back to where Raskell is watching over the human woman and Rhys watches over Raskell. Or at least it's how she thinks it is. "She took a spear to the shoulder and a nasty bite from a frog creature, I believe." Melianne pauses, then pats her satchel. "If you need supplies, I have a small pack of bandages and salves... I use them for burns and scractches, but they can probably help with other injuries? I know nothing of these things, you'd probably be better at it."

She then turns to the halfling, inspecting him with curiosity. "I don't believe we've been introduced! But I've seen you join the fight, out of nowhere. Are you a mysterious hero who appears when things are dire and there are damsels to be saved?" She lifts her hand to her lips and giggles. "It was a very well-timed entrance, for sure, sir."

Solra looks to where Melianne points and nods and responds, "Thank you I will not need those supplies, as I gifts bestowed upon me by Khalreshaar and Eilistraee." She then makes her way in the direction that Melianne pointed until she locates Raskel.

Upon seeing Raskel she says, "Raskel, I hear someone is injured." With purpose in front of her and semi-solid ground below her once more, she is slowly becoming herself once again. Getting next to Annika she touches her, "May the blessings of Eilistraee heal your wounds."

Annika takes a deep gasp of air as Solra's magic brings her back to consciousness.

"Bastard bit me," she growls, searching for her fallen rapier. Looking up at Solra and Raskell, and realising that nobody seems to be fighting, she asks, "Did we get 'em?"

"Done and dusted." Rhys hands over the woman's rapier, having found it near one of the frogmen - he has wiped the mud off as best as he could. He eyes her curiously. Perhaps he can learn something from her.

"I'm of the same mind of Korrin," he says to those gathered within earshot. They had wounded to tend to, scared people to herd, and hostile creatures to contend with.

"We are not home-free yet."

After healing Annika and noting the blood mixed with mud on Raskel she touches his arm and asks concerned, "Raskel are you hurt, or is that someone else's blood mixed with that mud?"

Rhys sifts thorugh the frog-monsters possessions. Apart from the crudly crafted spears he doesn't find anything of value on them.

Rada wipes her sword clean with the armor of her slain enemy. She looks at all of you and as she sees that everyone is being tended to she begins to curse like a sailor.
After a few minutes the flow of incoherent curse words subsides and is replaced by whole sentences Dogshit! What inna nine hells happened?! And Phann, this idealistic fool isn't ev'n here to pay up his bet. Taken by this damned frog people. By Mielikki! I'm gonna shred those frog people first and then I'm gonna turn Phann inside out for his idiotic optimism.

Rada leans against a tree, lowers her head and sighs. She closes her eye and you can see how she tries to steady her breath.
After her breathes become deeper and slower, she calmly begins to speak, with her head still lowered
Gotta say. Y'all fought valiantly. And you... she raises her head and points at Annika ... are packing a lot more punch than I'd have expected.

She stands up and walks over to the people she was protecting when you came to her help. None of them dared to talk during the patching up of your companions.

This... she points at the people ... is th' glorious rest of the crew an' passengers of the Jolly Wanderer.
The sun is setting so it's becoming increasingly harder to count the people but you are sure that those are merely a fraction of the people who were on the Jolly Wanderer initially
The rest of 'em were taken by those frog people. When I swam ashore most of t' others were being lead into th' forest by those green bast'rds. We at leas' stopp'd those three.

Rada looks up and down the shore. Pieces of wood, crates and various items from the Jolly Wanderer are strewn along it.

I think we should'a make camp. Don't think that followin' them into th' dark wood is of much use.

"Sounds like a good plan, why don't you organize the people for a salvage of supplies and we will keep guard. I will try to see which way they went and get a better view of the area." Korrin begins looking for tracks and also looks for a good tree to climb for an observation post.

"And the rest of us that can fight will guard the camp until barricades of some sort can be put up to get us through the night. Any objections?"

Through Solra's divine aid, Raskell could feel the tension of the situation leave him like air from a puffed up sack as Annika gasped and spoke, her anger catching him somewhat off-guard. His eyes drifted momentarily, passing over Annika first, then Solra, lingering a tad longer on the stouter woman than perhaps he meant to before he slowly rose, doing his best to scoop his poor utensils back into his pack before making a crude attempt to liberate some of the mud clinging to his now wet and filthy attire.

Raskell began to speak, but Rada's outburst cut him off. Only now did he realize just how grim things really were; these weren't all of the frog-things that laid dead before the assembled party, and many of the crew -- Phann included -- were left unaccounted for. The chef-at-arms' heart sank into his stomach again, twisting into an uncomfortable knot. They'd won a small victory. At least these folks were safe. But for Raskell, that wasn't enough.

"You guys're right," Raskell begrudgingly said in agreement with Rada, Rhys and Korrin, obviously still bitter over the ordeal but trying desperately to regain his composure post-battle. "No objection from me. But we've gotta go after them. They're still out there somewhere, and we're the only ones who can do something about it," he added. As terrifying as the prospect was, he refused to let this be the end of things. But for now, rest and recuperation.

Softening slightly, Raskell returned his focus to Solra, resting his hands on both of her shoulders along with a warm smile. "I'm alright. The important thing is you're okay, Solra. Just... no more boats for a bit, okay? Scared me half to death when I didn't see you on the shore when I washed up. Guess that means we both owe Mister Korrin a debt." They sure made an odd pair, but it was plain as day that the young adventurer had a soft spot for the dwarf.

"And you, too, Annika. Glad you didn't give up the ghost. Had us worried," Raskell said, giving the woman some space as he recollected the rest of his muddied armaments, fingers still tinged a dried blackish-red from his impromptu first aid. But time was short, and there was much to do.

"We'd best get to it. Should see if we can scrounge up what what's left from the Jolly Wanderer before it gets dark," the sellsword agreed, putting a hand over his eyes to gauge the setting sun before casting it back towards the shoreline. "With a little luck, maybe something edible survived the crash."

Hearing that Raskell was indeed unhurt she felt calmer inside then at his mention of boats she concurred, "Yes no more boats, I will crawl all the way if I have to!" After Raskell finishes talking she softly says, "Alright you head up the scrounging party, and I will see if anyone else needs tending to and then help stand guard." With that said she gives his arm a squeeze before turning to the others and saying louder, "Is anyone else hurt?"

"Would have been a goddamn stupid way to die, gnawed to death by a giant frog. I'll have to be a bit more careful next time."

Annika rubs her shoulder, even though there's not the slightest scratch to show where she was skewered. "And there will be a next time. Seems pretty clear that they sank our boat somehow, not to mention made off with a bunch of our people, so we'd best make sure they get what's coming to them. What's the plan - fortify the camp for the night, then go hunting in the morning? Are we sure the captives are going to live that long?"

"I'm afraid I won't be much use from here on out," The mere thought of scavenging for supplies after surviving all they've been through in such a short time is utterly draining.

"Best I can do is stand guard with my trusty crossbow. But as the little fella says, we'll be needin' to put up some barricades if we intend to wait til 'morn, and this terrain don't seem mighty suitable for that. If y'all don't mind bearin' with me, I'll have a look-see for better ground that don't leave us so open from those terrible creatures."

He sweeps a free hand at their swampy surroundings, shaking his head in a fit of indignation at their predicament.

After introducing herself to Korrin in turn, Melianne almost automatically drifted after him back to the group. Still, during the entire - discussion? raid planning? war council? - she was busy blending uncharacteristically into the background. Hiding behind Korrin, as oxymoronish as it sounds with their height difference and the dancer's natural inability to be stealthy, even in the slowly encroaching darkness of the night. But the halfling seemed like a cheery fellow, her sort of crowd, unlike the battle-hardened mercenaries, cursing sailors or stoic hunters, as nice as all of them might be.

As everyone move on with their respectful plans to improve the situation, Melianne sighs and twirls the end of her scarf, absent-mindely trying to squeeze the water out of it. She watches everyone else, silently considering which of them is more approachable at the moment, but coming up short with decisions. She can't hunt, heal or build barricades effeciently, and she really doesn't want to go back into the water to fish for supplies... And music is not the best idea if there are enemies nearby. What remains? The dancer hums to herself, and then turns to approach Rhys.

"Perhaps you will appreciate some company?" She puts her hand on her chin, lips stretching in a smile, trailing behind him with a deliberately playful sway of her hips - though the latter seems to be almost a habit. "There is strength is numbers, and I'm not much help in organizing a camp." Melianne looks at him with a pleading expression. "I can help you... scout? Oh, and I can do this!" She seems to have gotten a sudden idea, and with a click of her fingers a few floating glowing orbs of fire appear around them.