And now, here's Kevin's response to the skill challenge. He has DM'ed his own campaign, so he's incredibly creative - as you'll see below, he took Maggie's idea and ran with it. First, however, some back story:
Bishop is a very old Dragonborn. His scales are mottled and a silvery grey due to age. In his prime, he was a great Paladin in Bahamut's order. However, Bishop has long since been retired, content to maintain a peaceful watch over the farming community he calls home. It seems though that Bahamut still has a mission for Bishop in his later years as an old voice came to him to have him take up his craghammer one again, begrudgingly so.
His sense of duty, whether it truly is a calling or senility playing tricks on the mind, compels him forward.
Now, part II of the skill challenge:
With the first plate mail boot into the sludge, Bishop snorts with contempt. A soft, dark grey billow of smoke floats from his snout. He's tired from the journey already, and though his old bones creak when trudging through the mud and mire of the swamp, he presses on driven by the voice of the Platinum Dragon. He had believed his service was through, but there's still more that's asked of him. And though he finds his companions strange, rash, and a bit immature for his liking, he's come to appreciate the company on his journey. Perhaps it is his mission is to help this rag tag group, perhaps they are meant to lead him where mighty Bahamut wishes for him to go; either way the voice compels Bishop through the sludge that now reaches thigh high.
While contemplating where his destiny is leading him, Bishop catches movement from the side. He snarls back to the group, "Hold!" Bishop feels the eyes of many creatures all around himself and his comrades. His muscles tighten and he sniffs the air, scanning the perimeter to make out what appears to be a band of lizard men, armed with spears and blow guns. The largest of them steps forward. He wears a necklace of small skulls around his neck and holds a staff with a red ruby inset in a carved headpiece. He swings it and points directly at the old paladin.
"You dare attempt passage through the Swamps of Izrogen? Our land? A price… a heavy price…your lives…." Each word rolls off his forked tongue and lingers in the air.
Bishop steps forward, huffs, and slings his craghammer to his back.
"Fellow Scaleskin, we mean no disrespect and only wish save passage through your…" Bishop nearly chokes on the word, "…home. It's clear you take great pride in your land, and we don't intend to stay or disrupt it. My friends and I make haste to Brillidien. We have an urgent message that there is 'Danger' there and to 'Come at once.' So long as your kin aren't the cause, we can save ourselves both time... and
Kevin must also be psychic, because guess what Mac had planned for us to fight? LIZARDFOLK. That's just eerie.