The party cannot see downfall for all of the fog. Distant croaking can be heard. Creeping mists over still water. No, not still. Shapes loom on the edge of their vision. Humanoid figures sitting in boats atop the water. Silently, the emerge from the fog, revealed to be humanoid frogs, small in stature, but standing to attention.
“What so forth brings thee to our lands?” a haughty frog barks at the hapless humans. “Thou art trespass in the lands of King Gollop the Nineteenth. State thy business.”
The frog, dressed in a velvet vest complete with buttons and a silver brooch, surmises the party with a frown. Without missing a beat, Ferdinand steps forward, stooping into a deep bow.
“Forgive us good sir, we are searching for the hag named Bavlorna Blightstraw. We believe her demesne to lie around here. I ensure you we meant no offence to your lord.”
The frog stares with glassy eyes, drinking in the display of nobility. He gulps. “I see. Mistress Bavlorna does indeed control these lands as a high member of The Sodden Court. She hasn’t the time for you. Begone now, interlopers. You stand on noble ground.”
The messenger turns to leave. Ferdinand protests, taking a step forward.
“Please sir! We are new to this land, not privy to it’s laws. If an offence has been made please allow us an audience with your king and let us set things straight. We are able swords and spellmen alike. Perhaps we can be of service. A show of good faith.”
The frog stops, still turned away.
“The lands of Downfall are rife with corruption and usurpation. Thou art strangers in this land, cometh for strange reasons.” The frog turns and studies Ferdinand. Despite the frog being a quarter of his height, their presences match one another. The frogs noble frown. Ferdinands determined glare.
“But honesty I see in thy heart, strange one. Thou may board our boats and see our king. If thou goes back on thy word, thou shalt face justice of the sodden court, and thou bones shall rot at the bottom of the water.”
The journey across the boat is slow and silent. Syl and Zanguys inspect the black water, but can see nothing beneath. Unseen, the frog rowers steal furtive glances at Sir Talavar, communicating unheard with gestures and croaks. The boats finally come to rest at a network of interconnected wooden platforms, propped up by sticks dipping into the lake. Humanoid frogs in noble wear walk on the platforms. Some carry spears and wear armor. The party is led across these walkways, past huts and amongst fireflies. Frogs gasp and point as they pass, talking in hushed whispers. Their eyes find Sir Talavar, who waves confusedly in response. He doesn’t know these frogs, does he?
Eventually the party comes to a pagoda lined with cushions. Sitting atop it, being fanned by large fronds, is a fat frog wearing a high crown of yellow petals. A poofy ruff extends beneath his chin and gullet, reaching over his round belly.
“Who enters the domain of the King Gollop the Nineteenth, ruler of the far waters, the realms of mer and man, chancellor of the sodden court and protectorate of the realms of downfall?” calls a younger frog, dressed in a yellow coat.
Ferdinand does the talking, introducing everyone with proper name and title (he is the only one with a title). The king seems impressed. Or not. It’s hard to tell. He seems more focused on his platter.
“If you would, my liege, we seek the domain of Bavlorna Blightstraw, so that we may reclaim that which has been lost from our realm. We would pledge our selves in service to you in exchange for the guidance we seek. We are able bodied and experienced.”
Nothing but the sound of crickets is heard as the king slowly rolls, pivoting his head such that one beady eye looks at Ferdinand. His voice is gutteral and booming. It’s hard to make the words out from the croaks.
“This land… I fought day and night to win this land. Do you know how many of my court would kill me the instant they realised they could seize my power?”
Ferdinand pauses. “…my lord?”
“Yes, I am a discerning king. The nineteenth of my name, each and everyone of my predecessors has been executed in coup and political dispute. I say this because you do not seem to know the intelligence of those you would try to deceive!”
The party exchange concerned looks, keenly aware of the multitude of guards surrounding the pagoda. Hands reach slowly for weapons.
“My liege, please, I ensure we come bearing no ill will towards you or your lands. If there is a deception against you, I am not privy to it.”
“Silence, you marauding fool. You claim no ill will, yet you bring that back to downfall, and up to my very throne!” The king raises a slimy hand to point squarely at Sir Talavar.
The frogs of the court turn to look, shooting accusatory glares. The party stands in stunned silence. Sir Talavar looks confused for a moment, then an expression of fear erupts onto his face. He starts looking left and right, cowering.
“Our knight friend has lost his memory. My liege we are not aware of any wrongdoings, perhaps you have proof of these claims?”
The king bellows. “That knight killed my kin! On Telemy Hill, we rejected the tyranny of Bavlorna Blightstraw, and we were met with dragons wings and flying blades. This pitiful knight, Sir Talavar the Cruel, was our prisoner, until he escaped in a balloon. And now you march him back into our court. You mock us! Guards!”
The armoured frogs take a step forward, brandishing their spears. The party, save for ferdinand, draws their weapons. Ferdinand holds up both of his gauntleted hands.
“Now wait, there is no need for bloodshed. My liege, I am a noble under pedigree, same as you. The last thing I would dream of is embarrassing a noble in his own home. We have a common enemy, we too seek to undermine Bavlorna. We’d no idea we harbored one of her agents.!”
The king contemplates, but his rage gets the better of him. “Idea or no, you bring chaos to the house of the sodden court. You must face justice.”
“There is no justice in it my liege, if you simply-”
“Enough! You have insulted me for long enough. My warriors, chop them up and feed them to the swamp.”
Leaping from the edge of the pagoda, an armoured frog charges Ferdinand. Ferdinand draws his sword and dons his shield for defence. The frog charges for an attack. Ferdinand braces his shield arm.
But the attack does not connect. The spear of the guard is deflected off of the natural shielding of Zanguys turtle shell. The elderly turtle shows the king a gentle smile, holding up both his hands.
“You know… when I’m feeling angry, I always think that the best thing I could do is eat a nice hot meal. I notice your platter is adorned with nothing but shrivelled mushroom, Mr Gollop the Nineteenth. I may be able to remedy that.”
The guardsmen stop their slow approach, gazing hungrily at Zanguys. The king stares for a moment, one hand resting upon his stomach. The pagoda falls into an uncertain silence.
“Now, if you just give me a moment, I could find some mushrooms and cook us all up a nice stew, and we can have a pleasant discussion. My mother always said a meal was the only way to get off on the right foot.”
The king spies the cauldron affixed to the turtles pack. He licks his lips with a long pink tongue. “Perhaps… perhaps we can wait until the stew is complete.” He nods at his nobles, who nod in return. “Alright then, turtle man. Your parley is accepted.”
The ingredients are incredibly poor, but Zanguys is a culinary genius. Once frog and trespasser alike have full bellies, the mood in the room is much less tense. In exchange for the re-imprisonment of Sir Talavar, the party is given a guide to take them to Bavlornas tower through the fog and across the water.
Preparing for their expedition, Zanguys takes the opportunity to take a quick swim in the water. But he is not alone. In a flash, two mermen attack. Syl manages to get the partys attention, and after a brutally close battle, the mermen are defeated. The party licks their wounds, gathering the last of their things for the expedition.
The boat moves slowly through the fog, guided by their frog companion, until they see a wooden structure towering out of the lake. On three giant stilts it stands, coming to a point high in the sky. The guide will not follow them inside for fear of the hag. Gathering on the platform one by one, the party walks up the stairs, away from the bog and towards the front entrance of the tower.