View source for 5 - Into the Swampy Unknown

{{SessionLog
|ID=5
|Title=Into the Swampy Unknown
|Subtitle=Finally the Feywild
|Author=Frostbite
|DatePlayed=15-12-2024
|DateInGame=Day 10
|Log=
The session begins at the ticket booth, where the group reunites after act of theft and ineffective search of the three intruders. Frostbite watches with a mix of curiosity and exasperation as Brolin downs yet another drink. How does this fella not explode? Frostbite wonders, snarling under his breath. The others laugh, some purchasing more tickets as the group deliberates how to pass the time before the crowning of the Witchlight Monarch.

A short stroll later, they find themselves before the snail racing track, where two goblins with showman-like flair welcome them to “the most magical event of the carnival!” Towering, brightly colored snails stand poised, their shells shimmering under the faerie lights. Frostbite scowls at the very concept. “Snails aren’t animals,” he mutters disdainfully, earning a glance from an orange snail who seems almost offended.

The snail tilts its head toward Frostbite. For a moment, Frostbite’s icy demeanor cracks. Am I wrong? he wonders. Tentatively, he approaches the snail, which a nearby pixie caretaker introduces as Whizzie. Awkwardly, Frostbite apologizes to the snail, scratching his neck as he stumbles through the words. Whizzie nudges him in return, seemingly forgiving and even liking him. Frostbite grumbles, but when the pixies hand him cleaning tools, he begrudgingly polishes Whizzie’s shell, making it gleam.

As the goblins call for riders, Frostbite surprises himself by climbing onto Whizzie. He resolves to outdo his companions, Zephyr (on a purple snail) and Ashira (on a blue one). The race is exhilarating - snails charging forward with surprising bursts of speed. Frostbite finds himself leaning into Whizzie's movements, allowing the snail to take control. He takes the lead briefly, but Ashira surges ahead in the final moments, securing victory. Frostbite crosses the finish line second, with Zephyr close behind.

Frostbite’s prize is an simply carved wooden wand. Holding it, he feels a pang of grief - a reminder of his lost artistic talent. His grip tightens, nearly snapping the wand, but he halts himself. Whether it’s the wand’s latent magic or his own resolve that stops him, he isn’t sure. Still, the bitterness lingers, and he grumbles all the way to the Big Top Tent to secure front-row seats for the crowning ceremony.

<h3>The Crowning of the Witchlight Monarch</h3>
As the carnival winds down, the crowd gathers inside the glowing tent. The lights dim, and Mister Light, with his signature vane in hand, strides to the center stage. The energy is electric as he declares the carnival's success and begins the ceremony. A golden ribbon unfurls from his vane, weaving through the crowd like a living thing. It stops above Brolin, who stands unbothered, as though expecting this moment all along.

The ribbon spirals around Brolin’s head, casting a golden glow as a box materializes onstage. Within lies a golden crown, which Mister Light places upon Brolin’s brow, officially naming him the Witchlight Monarch. The tent erupts in applause, lights flash, and a joyous parade forms to march through the carnival, ending in a breathtaking fireworks display.

Yet, for Frostbite, the night’s true journey lies ahead. As visitors begin to leave, he, Brolin, and Maeve head toward the Hall of Illusions, where the feywild awaits.

<h3>A Portal Opens</h3>
The group’s initial attempts to enter the portal through the mirrors prove frustrating. Frostbite mutters under his breath as he and Brolin try various incantations, their reflections mocking them. Before long, the others - Ashira, Zephyr, and Dhanell - arrive, trailed by a sullen Mister Light and Mister Witch. Frostbite raises a brow, realizing the others must have forced the carnival owners’ cooperation.

Mister Witch reluctantly utters the incantation: “Hither, Tither, here and there, Wonder yonder, show me where.” The correct mirror responds, shimmering and shifting into a portal. Brolin wastes no time leaping through, with Frostbite following close behind to avoid any awkward conversations about a certain stolen pocket watch.

<h3>Into the Feywild</h3>
Stepping through the portal, the group finds themselves surrounded by thick mist. Slowly moving forward as the footing changes from ground to stone. When the mist parts, the group stands atop a stone causeway, its sections crumbling and separated by wide gaps. Peering down reveals a swamp below, shrouded in haze, with big mushrooms growing on the pillars of the causeway and the swamp itself being filled with strange vegetation. 

The air is damp, but Frostbite feels a strange warmth in his chest as he speaks about the chance of this being the place where he feels his artistic spark might be found after all this time. Time to move Frostbite thinks, he argues against sleep that others want. But stifling a yawn he let's himself be convinced to listen to the group.

The causeway is impassable, so they descend using a rope and hook provided by Brolin. Frostbite grimaces as his boots sink into the spongy mushrooms, muttering about the carnival’s cleanliness compared to this damp mess. A sudden crane takes flight, startling the group, but they reach the swamp floor safely.

<h3>The Harengon Robbers</h3>
As they press forward, the swamp comes alive with sound—a melody of croaking frogs and buzzing insects. But soon, this is drowned out by off-key singing. Emerging from the shadows are six Harengons, two pulling a snail while the rest wield clubs. Their leader, flamboyantly brandishing a bow, announces with mock cheer that the group is being robbed—of their sense of delight.

Frostbite glares at them. “You’ve already taken that with your ridiculous song,” he growls. The leader offers an unsettling choice: submit to the golden bottle they carry (which promises to drain joy) or face a beating. Frostbite, unwilling to lose more of himself, swings his club at the bottle, but the Harengon holding it swiftly dodges.

The Harengons laugh but, impressed by Frostbite’s boldness, decide not to escalate. “You’re no fun!” one quips as they hop away, their song fading into the distance. The swamp falls quiet again, though the group remains wary.

<h3>The Journey Begins</h3>
As the group resumes their trek, strange swamp bubbles rise and burst around them, releasing a foul-smelling gas. Frostbite catches a whiff, wrinkling his nose but managing to steady himself. He smirks despite the stench, feeling oddly at home in the swamp's chaos. “The artistic spark I’ve lost… it’s here somewhere,” he says to himself, the warm feeling from earlier stirring again.

In the distance, a patchwork balloon crashes into the swamp with a distant splash. Though Frostbite longs to find the cabin-on-legs and the witch he seeks, the group convinces him that investigating the balloon is a logical first step.

And so, the session ends with the group trudging through the swamp, heading toward the fallen balloon - each step drawing them deeper into the feywild's mysteries.
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