After so many hours in the treacherous bleakness of the swamp, coming into a low valley of mostly firm terrain is oddly exhilarating. Before you lies a small village of patchwork huts, partly woven with some unfamiliar reed, and partly wadded with a reddish, black mud.
Initially, you are met with cold, almost frozen, stares from the scattered faces out in the village. After only a minute or so, the stares turn to guarded smiles, and you see dozens of increasingly eager villagers headed your way to surround you. They speak quickly in draconic, welcoming you to their town and urging you with them toward the center of town. They seem unanimous in their acceptance of you into their midst.
Before long, you find yourselves being hailed by the entire village as a hasty banquet is spread before you in what passes for a town square. Food and drink are brought before you (although it appears sketchy - the food is an assortment of bugs and the drink appears to be slightly filtered swamp water). A great pair of chairs is brought out and arranged at the head of the tables for the king and queen of the lizardfolk.
I'm getting some ideas for where to take this, but can't stay awake at the moment.
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