Category Archives: Journal Entries

Journal entries for the Jade Regent campaign

October 17th, 2015

Character: Anavaru

From the diary of Anavaru

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22nd of Serenith

It was morning in the Rusty Dragon, much like any other morning.  I was having breakfast with Kali and my baby brother, catching up on the goings-on in town since the last time I had seen them, at Niska’s funeral.  Although it was by no means unexpected, Niska’s death has hit Alarph really hard.  I’m a little worried about him, actually.  He was closer to her than any of us, and it’s no wonder; he was so young when mother died that I’m not even sure he has any memories of her.  Niska had a large part in raising him.  I’ve tried to do what I can to comfort him, but grief has its own timeline.

There were a number of new faces in the tavern that morning, and it seemed like the topic of the day was goblin hunting.  I was surprised to hear that the bounties had been reinstated; last time they were in effect, a couple of kids managed to get themselves completely in over their heads and consequently killed. 10gp per ear is certainly nothing to sneeze at, but there’s no such thing as easy money.  I dearly wish we could have made them aware of the risks before they snuck out of town.

A dwarf stranger tried to show off his new polearm, but Ameiko shut that down pretty quickly.  There’s a time and a place for comparing whose is bigger, and the Rusty Dragon is not it.  The dwarf quickly apologized and bought everyone a round; I raised my mug in a toast and ended up joining the discussion of the group of both newcomers and a few familiar faces.  Long story short, we decided to band together and investigate the quickly escalating goblin situation.

Ameiko informed us of a newcomer to the Brinemarsh whose self-designation is “Warden of the Swamp,” and suggested that he might have information about the goblins.  With the combination of having grown up here, and having roamed quite a ways, I know the area around Sandpoint pretty well.  I’ve often taken odd jobs as a guide (probably the oddest was that time an archaeological expedition was thwarted by an insurmountable army of bunny rabbits.)  Just like everyone else, however, I lack in depth knowledge of the Brinemarsh.  There’s been simply no reason for me to go there; it’s too overgrown for effective hunting, and it’s not exactly a tourist destination.

I gave Sopwith a couple of dates and a pat, and assured him we’d return soon.

22nd of Serenth, evening

Well, the rest of today was….eventful, to say the least.

In the end, we met the Warden of the Swamp, but not in the way we had anticipated. Upon encountering his house, and a tired, wounded halfling that appeared to be the Warden himself, Qatana barged past him inside yelling something incomprehensible about mice. I frantically tried to initiate damage control by apologizing profusely to what we thought was the Warden. While attempting to converse with him, I noticed a weird ripple across his face, almost like his form was unstable. “Oh, shit.” I thought. While I excused myself and began to search the house under the pretense of “taking care of his snake problem,” a bizarre standoff between our party and the “Warden” ensued.

The snakes that I found in a side room looked perfectly normal to me. I had even started to befriend one, when Kali peered into the room and motioned for me to come over. She told me in a low voice that he seemed awfully “together” considering his poison. I opened my mouth to agree when we heard a loud crash and some scuffling upstairs. I reassured my new snake friend that I’d be back, slid my greatsword from its sheath, and bolted towards the staircase, where I skidded to a halt as I noticed the narrow quarters and lack of room.

After the “Warden” was dispatched, we found the real halfling hidden away in a safe room, unconscious and wounded. I shudder when I consider what could have happened if we had waited a few days, or not come at all. He told us a few more details about the monster who took his form, and has generously allowed me to keep my new snake friend (who I have named F16, although I don’t expect anyone in this timeline to get the joke.) I promised that I’d bring her back to visit. Before the evening meal, I dragged the monster’s stinking corpse out of the house and burned it.

On a side note, I’m becoming increasingly concerned about Qatana. I get that she’s been through some trauma, but if this group continues adventuring together, her erratic behavior and affective instability could endanger all of us. Maybe Kali will have some ideas on what we can do.

Character: Etayne

Etayne’s Diary

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“I told you she would be trouble!”

“Don’t lose her!”

“The Witch must burn!”

The shouts from the Crowd were getting closer, but I continued to run. It seemed no matter how much faster I would move my legs the Crowd moved quicker. It was so dark, so hard to see. I looked over my shoulder to see how close… Just a giants height away. I turned back around just in time to run directly into something. I fell to the ground and every thing went silent. I felt someone grab me and jerk me up. I stared with a sneer at my attacker. It was a tall Older Man with a sinister Grin on his face. He was holding me tight to him. No matter how much I struggled I was unable to move. He then opened his jaw wide to reveal razor sharp teeth. His mouth engulfed my head.

I quickly opened my eyes, sweat covering my body. Ling lay close to me. I am grateful for his friendship. It was that dream again. One of these days that dream will no longer scare me. One of these days that man will pay. After I communed with Ling, I sat brooding over the nightmare, and my frustrations grew. I needed to clear my mind. The Rusty Dragon was usually a great place to clear the mind and hear the tales of others.

I entered the Rusty Dragon and was relieved to find my favorite spot open. I sat in the dark corner watching and listening. There seemed to be a lot of talk about Caravans and Goblins with fireworks. Then someone, I believe it was Ameika, said the bounty for Goblin ears was reinstated. Then what looked like a freshly cleaned Qatana spoke up and said she could use the money and asked if anyone wanted to join her. As people started to speak up I decided that it may be a good way for me to clear my mind of last nights dreams.

I spoke up and I guess the soap did more than clean her body, for she did not seem to realize it was me. I guess that is understandable. She began to drill me about where I was from… Would a Nightmare work as an answer, probably not. I told her “North”. Shortly after I was welcomed into the mob of would be Goblin slayers. Ameika Gave us some advise including that we should share our talents with each other. There were 4 Warriors, 2 Clericy types, a wizard and me. The warriors were Sparna a Dwarf with a large weapon, Olmas a Half-elf with great ax and a horse, Anavaru a Human with a bow, and finally Radella with a sword. The “Healers” are Qatana a Human with her heavy flail and Ivan a Male Human with a bow. Kali is our Human Wizard and like me she has a Familiar which is a Raven. Ling didn’t seem to have a problem with them and surprisingly neither did I. We chose to meet at the southern bridge, and all went our separate ways to prepare.

I went straight to the bridge with Ling. If I am prepared I am prepared. If not, oops. I stood staring at the water, the movement, the strength, the adaptability. If something got in its way it would move it or change its path to go around it. If it were completely blocked it would wait and build up for the day it could over take the dam. In most cases it would prevail or work with what it is given. Adapt.

When everyone arrived we began our journey south to the foreboding Brinestone Swamp. It was a nice sunny day. Not my favorite weather but I guess it is good for this sort of thing. We walked for a while and it did not seem like there was much talking going on in the group, certainly not like the mob in my dream, Oh, yes, the dream had stopped bothering me at this time. I think it was focusing on the water that helped. As we entered the Swamp I took a middle position in the group as we walked single file down the Fisherman’s Path.

The Brinestone Swamp was just as I expected. There was a lot of plant growth as well as a lot of decay. It was a perfect contrast. Birth and Death. I spent my time threw the swamp looking paying attention to the foliage but mainly keeping an eye out for movement, specifically Goblins. Apparently these were the Licktoad Goblins. Fascinating name. There was no movement the whole time. We crossed several rickety bridges while following a trail of foot prints. Somewhere along our journey we heard a pig squeal. Must be Dinner time.

After we crossed the last bridge the foot prints changed from one set of human prints to a few sets of prints. One alien and another smaller like that of a child’s. We followed the path that took us to a broken down 2 story shack, which we figured belonged to the Warden that Ameiko told us about. Some of the group knocked on the door and engaged in conversation. I figured they had that under control, thankfully, so I kept an eye on the woods with Sparna. He looked a bit concerned about what was transpiring around in the shack but diligently kept an eye on our surroundings. I am not sure why he was concerned, from the sound of things, I thought every thing was going well. I was then requested to come in and see to a snake bite.

I came in and noticed that the little man seemed shaken up and was suffering from the effects of a poison. I was directed to a room which contained several, what seemed to be, non-agitated vipers. This got me questioning this little man’s situation. When I went back to talk to him to see if I was going to treat him, I noticed he wasn’t right. Something happened with his face. It kind of freaked me out. I tried to encourage a few of my associates to come out and create a plan, but after I created my excuse of getting ingredients for the remedy, things progressed quicker than I thought. I came back in and handed off my Long spear since the little man was in the stairwell and there was no room for me.

The villain was dispatched and we discovered it was a creature that inhabits the swamp, but hates snakes. Shortly after dispatching the creature a secret door was discovered and the actual warden rescued. He opened up his house to us for the night, for which we were grateful. He also gave us information that should help us in our hunt for the goblins. I am now laying down with hopes of a somewhat peaceful sleep.

Character: Kali

Kali’s Journal, Sarenith 22-23, 4712

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Sarenith 22, 4712 (Brinestump Marsh, Night)

I am not sure what I have gotten myself into here. Besides the obvious, that is, which of course is a swamp. Certainly this is not how I envisioned that the day would end, even after we made the decision to come here. I don’t know why—maybe it was Qatana’s confidence—but I just assumed we would be done before nightfall. In retrospect that was pretty naive of me.

Am I in over my head? Possibly, but I feel like this is a tipping point in my life. I could spend years scribing scrolls in the guild and researching and copying dusty tomes in some library in Magnimar, basically growing old and dull. Or, I could be like mom and dad, and take a chance on something more than safe. And, honestly, how much safer would that “safe” life be? The worst thing that ever happened to me was just a stone’s throw from my friends. There are no guarantees anywhere, not in Magnimar, and certainly not in Sandpoint.

I almost didn’t even come to Sandpoint at all. When the letter from Ameiko arrived, suggesting I come back for a few days to visit, I was more than a little apprehensive. For one, our friendship had been fading even before we moved away and I had long since come to terms with it. I didn’t know what it meant that she wanted to see me. And for two, this town had been hard on me growing up. Most of that was already solidly in the past, too, but it still brings back some unpleasant memories and I wasn’t sure I wanted to see some of those faces again, even in passing.

But in the end I said yes, and here we are. I guess curiosity and a glimmer of hope won out. I am not exactly sure what I was expecting from Ameiko, but if she reached out that meant she wanted to try and reconnect in some fashion, right? Maybe she’d be less distant, and maybe time had helped her—deal with? heal from? come to terms with?—whatever it was that happened out there, and that the walls would come down a bit.

They did a little. It wasn’t the same as when we were kids, but maybe that is too much to ask of anyone. It doesn’t matter. It was good to see my friend.

After Ameiko took over that inn years ago it became the de facto gathering point for travelers, thrill-seekers, explorers and their ilk, and it’s also one of the few places where you can go in Sandpoint if you and your friends want to meet your friends’ friends, and their friends in turn. It was the latter that had me there for breakfast (though I was visiting Ameiko, I chose not to pressure both of us by also staying there) and some time in the common room. It had been years since I had seen Anavaru—that running gag about her “horse” never seems to get old—and though Qatana and I have been in touch off and on in Magnimar it seemed wrong to not get together while we were both in town.

Speaking of Qatana, I am actually growing concerned about her. Obviously, what happened in Kaer Maga all those years ago was deeply scarring and I wasn’t surprised to see it affect her as it did. No one should have to adjust to life as an orphan. When I learned she was going to Magnimar to study under clerics of Pharasma I thought she might finally be healing those old wounds, and after we moved there ourselves I was able to see her from time to time. But then she became obsessed with Groetus and the end times, and her life took a radically different and dark turn. Certainly, it has given her great strength and resolve, and at the core there is still the Qatana I know—she even started a bakery of sorts in Magnimar, which doubled as a soup kitchen—but it colors her thinking.

At times she does not seem to be connected to what’s around her. She seems uninterested in taking care of her appearance. Her actions can be random and occasionally they show a lack of understanding of basic social graces. I am almost certain she hears voices and there are moments when I think I see her talking back to them. But mostly I am concerned because I don’t know what this means. Are those voices real spirits or beings? Is this a part of her relationship with the deities of old? I suppose all things are possible. But where will it lead?

To be fair, she is more…functional than most followers of Groetus, and I use that term “followers” loosely. Groetus does not really have followers so much as he has recluses, fanatics, and lunatics (and sometimes all three at once), and they tend to be doomsayers or obsessed with the dying and the almost-dead. But there are rare exceptions, and Qatana is one of them. “The world is going to end,” she told me once. “It could be today, tomorrow, or next week.” Her life has a sort of immediacy to it. Time is not to be wasted.

It was Qatana that first spoke up when she heard about the bounty that had been placed on goblins from the Licktoad Tribe (I don’t know for sure how goblins choose their tribe names, but I think it is safe to assume that they are not ones for metaphor). Of course, we all knew about the attacks on travelers and caravans which were mostly nuisance affairs, but lately they had taken to scaring horses with, of all things, fireworks that had been stolen from somewhere. That was news to me, as was the bounty had been placed on them once before and then quickly pulled. Apparently, some kids with more courage than sense got killed trying to collect on it, and Sandpoint didn’t want more would-be bounty hunters going off to the swamps and not returning. But now it was back on again, which means the fireworks had upped the both the seriousness of the situation and the urgency along with it.

Qatana was ready to go right then and there, simply declaring “I need money,” as if that were the only explanation necessary. It’s the sort of awkward thing Qatana does.

She started asking “us” if we’d join her, and so the interview process began. And who, exactly, was “us”? The aforementioned friends of friends. A few people I’d seen around before we’d moved away, a few I’d heard of but didn’t know plus some faces that were entirely new. The interview process was mercifully short, with Qatana’s qualifying criteria being one of either “carries a large stick” or “casts spells”. (She can be refreshingly simple.)

When she asked me, I didn’t answer at first. My hesitation came from thinking about the kids that went out there before us and died for their trouble. That was a reminder that you don’t just go kill a few goblins as a means of minting coins: they may be the butt of jokes around this part of Varisia, but that does not mean they aren’t vicious and dangerous, especially in numbers. In a way, it sounded both cliche and naive to declare that we could just walk out to the swamp and “take care of it”, especially since many of us had met one another for the first time not just that morning, but that hour. But as I said earlier, I felt like I needed something big to upset my life so that I could find a new course.

Ameiko watched this all with interest and amusement (and possibly more the latter than the former), but she’s not in the habit of seeing people get hurt so she did wander over and offer some practical advice from her own experiences. That advice boiled down to: get to know everyone’s skills before you set out and put your lives in each others’ hands. Fair enough, and so we did. Note to Ameiko: the next time you give that speech, specifically add “and what languages you have in common” to the list.

We set out a couple of hours later for the Brinestump Marsh (who comes up with these names?), taking a fishing trail along the river delta to the shore. Ameiko told us of a halfling man who had set up a little home out there and established himself as the self-proclaimed “Warden of the Swamp”. If we wanted to get some information on the goblins, then perhaps that would be a good place to start.

It’s from his home, in fact, where I am writing this currently, and he has been gracious enough to offer us food and lodging for the night. But I am getting ahead of myself.

When we first arrived at the house we had been following two sets of footprints: one roughly child-sized (or halfling), and one human-sized. They led right to his home, and that is where events took a bizarre—and later, frightening—turn.

Qatana, Anavaru and Ivan approached the door (gods, Ivan is just a kid…what is he doing out here?) and, surprisingly, the Warden answered when Anavaru knocked. I couldn’t hear what was said, but I could see him and he did not look good: very ill, very tired and seemingly wounded. There was a brief exchange that ended with Ivan pushing his way forward to give some unsolicited healing. And then it got weird. Very, very weird.

Qatana…she just barged in. Literally. She just pushed her way in the door, without asking to come in, and without being invited. She walked right in his home and started poking around.

Everyone was in shock, especially the poor Warden. Except there was something about him that didn’t seem to fit. He was injured, and grateful for the healing, but he was also evasive and alarmed. Not because of Qatana or us, but because of something else. I like to think that this is what Qatana sensed and the reason why she did what she did, but I don’t know. Whatever her motivation, though, it set the right events in motion and it made me suspicious and the Warden increasingly uneasy.

So I cast a spell to search for magic, outside where I was out of earshot so as not to raise suspicion, and joined them in the Warden’s entry, under the pretense of helping to get a handle on Qatana and put the poor man at ease. What I was really trying to do was get a look around, myself, and what I saw gave me a bad feeling. There was no magic anywhere in the house except for the Warden himself. Not on him, but him specifically.

He was going on about being bitten by snakes, and having been poisoned (all of which clearly appeared to be true), and being afraid of snakes, and yet he lived in a house that was a habitat for snakes, and he kept feeder mice and birds. For snakes. And it did not add up. So we pretended to help by searching the house for more snakes while we kept the Warden under watch and stalled for time. I even asked Etayne to come in and look him over since witches know something of poisons and remedies, and thus she could put on a convincing show.

Eventually, I was able to determine that the magic around him was a faint transmutation of some sort, but I could not identify the source. So I called up to Qatana, who was searching the upstairs (“for snakes”). In Elvish, I said, “Qatana, I need you down here. I am detecting a faint transmutation aura on the halfling.”

And I was taken aback when our halfling friend replied, also in Elvish. “I am sure it was just the lingering effect of your friend’s healing spell”.

I felt a chill running through me. Any one thing on its own would be perfectly innocent, but all of this together created a picture that was just wrong. I could also feel the Warden’s unease, and it seemed we had started a dangerous game, with us knowing that something was up, and the Warden knowing that we knew, and we knowing that he knew that we knew, and so on. But neither side was ready to make the first move.

Then Etayne became severely spooked by something she saw, and she stepped out to call Olmas in. Under the guise of “you should stay down; you’ve been poisoned” and so on, he ensured that the halfling was sitting down and staying that way. This worked for a little bit but the Warden’s patience wore thin and Olmas had to get obstinate about it, and that is when our halfling host went from agitated to angry to hostile to violent. He leapt from his chair, ran upstairs with Olmas on his heels, and within seconds a lethal fight had broken out in the hallway.

We were not, in fact, talking to a halfling. We found the real Warden of the Swamp, one Walthus Proudstump, in a secret room on the second floor of his home after the fight was over. What we were facing was something called a “stalker”: a being capable of assuming the form of others, and both speaking and understanding any language. There are spells that can accomplish the latter two effects, but it would appear that these creatures do this continually. According to the real Warden, who we healed and tended to, they were created by the Old Ones. (Possibly as spies? I can think of no better purpose for shapeshifters who are instantly fluent in any language. But the Old Ones are long gone, so what is their purpose now?)

This one attacked Walthus and took his form. It’s not clear why. For the most part, Walthus says the snakes help keep them away (which means there may be more than one of them) but somehow this one was able to get to him when his guard was down—while we were playing cat and mouse with the stalker inside, Radella was searching the grounds outside and she came across signs of a struggle—and Walthus was nearly killed. He was able to get back into his house unnoticed and conceal himself in the secret room that the stalker did not know was there, ultimately saving his own life. The stalker, in the mean time, found that the snakes could tell the difference between the real Walthus and a copy, and he suffered numerous, venomous bites.

And that is how it came to be that I am spending the night in a small house in the Brinestump Marsh along the Soggy River. Walthus Proudstump, the halfling man who calls himself The Warden of the Swamp, was so grateful for our timely intervention that he served us dinner and gave us the use of his home for the night. He’s a good man. Perhaps a little eccentric, but a kind and generous man who is happy where he is and surrounded by the marshlands that he loves.

Sarenith 23, 4712 (Brinestump Marsh, Morning)

Last night was uneventful. Sparna, Radella, Anavaru and Olmas each took a two-hour shift on a watch. I had trouble sleeping, and spent the couple of hours writing. Nihali was uneasy as well, and I’d see her fidget and stretch her wings nervously. There was nothing specific bothering me so I guess I was just anxious about everything.

I don’t know Sparna well though he is a frequent visitor to Sandpoint. He has worked as a caravan guard for as long as I have known him, though whether he has done anything more than this I don’t know. Being a caravan guard is mostly about appearances and deterrence (something Ameiko taught me, and which I put to good use in Magnimar to keep the riff-raff at bay) and I suspect this outing is a welcome change for him. Perhaps a chance to actually use what he carries instead of putting on a show.

Radella is one of the new faces, a half-elf woman whose skills tend to towards tomb-robbing and thinking on your feet. Note: I am being diplomatic here. I have nothing against her, but I suspect neither mom nor dad would be likely to invite her to dinner.

I’ve always liked Anavaru and she was never unkind to me. It’s terrible what happened to her and her family. First her mom, and then her dad. Niska practically adopted them, and then Ana lost her, too.

Shalelu seems to know everyone in Varisia and Olmas is another one of her strays, this one a half-elf man. He seriously considered bringing a horse into a marshland. We actually had to talk him out of it. Where does she find these people?

Ivan, as I have said, is just a kid, too young to be properly concerned for his own safety. Another new face to me, but apparently close to Koya.

I remember seeing Etayne from time to time when I was younger. She’s a half-sister to Shalelu but I don’t know the circumstances (and it is not my business, anyway). She was not comfortable in town then, and she seems to be even less so, now. I can understand that. Witchcraft just isn’t trusted, especially in Varisia where superstitions flow like water.

This morning we are going back out to the Lost Coast Road so we can come in along a different path that leads to the goblin village. Walthus advised us against a more direct route through the marshlands. Apparently the “monster in the swamp” is real, and not someone’s imagination made legend through oral tradition. We saw a footprint yesterday—three toes in an alien arrangement—and Walthus said it belongs to it. “It has claws for hands and feet and its legs bend the wrong direction for a man,” he explained. “It’s jaws also open wrong.”

He said it was a fearsome creature that first appeared here maybe five years ago. And it sounds like something best left alone.

Character: Qatana

Qatana’s journal entry for October

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Fireday, Sarenith 22, 4712 Sunset
Brinestump Marsh

Two months in Sandpoint and I was still unsure what to do with my life. I was certain I needed to get away… far away. But there was the matter of picking a destination.

Huffy helpfully suggested, “Ask Kali — she’s been all over this part of the world.”

Of course, Kali! She came from some exotic lands far, far away, and has been to other places equally foreign. And like me she had recently returned from Magnimar, although we had only briefly chatted since.

Lately she had taken to hanging out at the Rusty Dragon, Sandpoint’s defacto hang out for travellers and other restless folk. Perhaps she too was looking for a change — when we spoke earlier she had mentioned the need to get away, but I did not think it meant anything more than a visit to the outhouse.

“You! Bath. Now.”

This is Ameiko’s usual greeting for me whenever I enter the Rusty Dragon, although for the life of me I cannot figure out why.

While I was in the bath house Ameiko had someone wash my clothes, and so some time later, reeking of soap and — lavender? — I was finally granted admittance to the common room.

Kali was there deep in conversation with a handful of common acquaintances.

“Yes, they have reinstated the bounty on goblin ears.”

“It’s the Licktoads — they got a hold of fireworks and are terrorizing travel and trade along the Lost Coast Road between here and Magnimar.”

“I heard they’ve actually killed some people.”

“Why the hell did they cancel the bounty? Goblins are like rats: if you let them breed unmolested you’ll have an infestation.”

“A few years back some teenagers went out to collect goblin ears for the bounty and their bodies were found days later. Parents complained.”

“I guess the latest acts of aggression have changed the mayor’s and sheriff’s mind and they are offering 10 gold pieces per goblin ear, and 500 for the head of the Licktoad chief.”

“Yeah, and some fools ran off a few days ago to deal with the goblins, but they never returned.”

“Unprepared.”

“Too few.”

“Inexperienced.”

And that’s when it occurred to me: travel is expensive, and my future plans called for a lot of travel. The goblin bounty would be a great way to quickly earn enough gold to get started.

Obviously I could not go alone: that would be foolish and I’d end up as dead as those unfortunates who set out a few days before.

Sitting around me in various knots of conversations were (mostly) familiar people who boasted a variety of skills that would be useful.

I interrupted Kali’s group and carefully explained my idea of forming a band to slay the marauding goblins and collect the bounties, and asked who would like to participate.

Right away I got seven people who were interested, and they began to discuss what sort of supplies and equipment we might need in the swamp. Machetes, scythes, water proof boots, water proof pants, hey how about a boat, should I bring my horse — wait, what? This organizing by committee was rapidly getting out of hand.

Fortunately Ameiko had kept an ear cocked to our disorganized attempts at planning a campaign and stepped in to offer assistance.

“Before you take off into the marsh, each of you should describe your abilities and discuss tactics you are likely to use when facing foes.”

Before the conversation fell to a discussion on who should start, and if someone should take notes, and whether we had the right type of paper or ink with which to record the events, I introduced myself.

“I’m Qatana. I wield a heavy flail and cause foes to be less competent. Oh, and I can heal… or end suffering — whichever seems more appropriate.”

I then pointed to Kali, who introduced herself and explained her mastery of arcane magics. She also had a bird who could act as a scout. When did she pick up a bird? Cardamom and cloves.

I then nodded to Olmas, whom I knew through Shalelu, albeit not well, “I go by Olmas, and wield a great ax. I prefer mounted combat.” Ah, that explained the request to bring a horse. Grass and horse sweat.

I had run across Ivan out hunting in the woods around Sandpoint years ago, but he vanished a while back. I was surprised to see him. “I’m Ivan, and I use a bow and can offer healing and guidance.” Smoke and brimstone.

Next I pointed to an unfamiliar dwarf heavily armored like a soldier. “Sparna. I use this.” He pulled out a massive pike, which instantly put him in my good graces. Oiled metal and stale beer.

“I am Anavaru and I hunt and usually fight with ranged weapons, and like Olmas I travel with a horse.” Right. A “horse.” Everyone in Sandpoint knew about her horse. Leather and camel dung.

Next was a woman I did not recognize. “I am called Radella. I wield a sword, and I am very observant and quite good with my hands. You might find me helpful in detecting traps and picking locks.” Patchouli and… snake oil?

I knew Etayne, but only casually, and I did not know what she did, or that she had a fox as a friend! “I am Etayne and I offer magic and healing. And this is my companion, Ling.” Whiskey and musk.

Ameiko seemed satisfied with our ad hoc team and pulled up a chair. Gin and sawdust.

“While it is not particularly large, the Brinestump swamp can make travel difficult. The ground is soggy, the undergrowth dense, and the trees crowd close together and block out much of the daylight.”

“There are paths fishermen use, but other creatures, including the goblins, make use of them too. In fact locals tell of a monster that dwells in the swamp and preys upon the unwary or ill prepared.”

“Some years back a recluse built a shack on the shore and he now calls himself the Warden of the Swamp. He is shorter than your friend here,” she said nodding at Sparna, “but he has managed to survive all this time in the swamp, and may give you advice on finding the goblins.”

“If you take the first fishing trail you encounter it will lead you to the beach near his place.”

Within an hour we had gathered our travel gear and met at Sandpoint’s southern bridge, from where we set out on the Lost Coast Road. The day was clear and bright, and the walk pleasant. By mid afternoon we had made our way to the fisherman’s path Ameiko had mentioned.

I led the way along the narrow path, which looked to have been recently travelled, although clearly not regularly. The vegetation became thicker, the ground more damp, and the smell of rotting plants (and other, less pleasant things) filled the air.

“It smells like Takoda’s butt,” squeaked Timber. “Shh,” I hissed, “now is not the time. Keep alert!”

We came to a rickety bridge crossing over one of the channels that make up the Soggy River delta. It had seen better days, but it looked safe enough, and so I crossed.

The others seemed more concerned, and so Kali and Ivan made use of Mending spells to make the structure more sound.

We continued on and the air became more oppressive, and the chirps, whistles, and rustlings of small animals seemed to intensify. Some distance ahead there was a soft splash, and a short while later we came upon another bridge.

We began to see tracks alongside the path: one disturbing set looked like it might have been left by a giant bird. Far off to our left a pig squealed in fear, but it was suddenly cut off.

Another bridge, and recent tracks on the path itself: those of a halfling and human heading in the same direction as us.

Soon the trees thinned out and a short time later the brush opened up, revealing a calm swampy lagoon before us. The tracks led south along the beach, and we followed.

We rounded a hummocky thicket and came upon a two storied shack — signs indicated it was inhabited, and so I called out a greeting, but there was no response.

Anavaru and I walked up to the door as the others fell in behind. Ana knocked.

“Do you think there’ll be mice here?” asked Huffy. McLovin replied earnestly, “Oh yes, I can feel their presence!” “And maybe they will share their food!” added Timber.

The door opened and a halfling stood in the entrance. He was bleeding from numerous wounds, and gaped at us with mouth ajar before saying, “Now is not a good time.” Fear and blood.

Ivan pushed his way up and used a spell to heal him.

The halfling seemed surprised, but thanked him.

That seemed to put our host at ease, and by this time my friends were frantically chanting, “Mice, mice, mice, mice!” Before Pookie broke the cadence with a prolonged squeal of, “Cheeeeeeese!”

It seemed like nothing would quiet them down, and so I stepped through the doorway, with an, “Excuse me, my friends were hoping to find comrades within,” by way of an apology.

First the hallway. Nothing there, and so the next door — ah, a dining room.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Badger, “Check that other door.”

The pantry, and out from the pantry slithered a snake — a viper. Silence from my friends, but the serpent behaved like no wild snake I had ever seen. It passed between my feet and into the dining room.

Curious, but not what I was looking for. Back out into the hall.

Olmas was discussing the goblins with the halfling — I guessed he was the warden Ameiko had told us about, but he seemed confused, and was making little sense. He did seem to think it a good idea that we should go after the goblins right way, but was offering no useful information about what they might have been up to or how to find them.

He denied having been out on the path earlier today, although clearly the two sets of footprints, both halfling and human, were made just hours before and led right up to the shack.

Hmm, yes, interesting, but not very helpful. Our host was standing before another door, but seemed unwilling to move aside.

“Did you know you have a snake in your pantry?” I asked.

“Snake?” said the Warden, “I hate snakes — they bit me! You need to go now and kill all of the goblins.”

Beorn said, “He’s hiding something — he needs to move.”

I pushed the Warden aside and opened the door.

“FRIENDS!” echoed eight little shouts.

Friends indeed. The room was filled with wicker cages of mice and little birds.

How unexpected, but then my guys had been telling me this from the moment we arrived.

“But he’s afraid of snakes,” I said puzzled.

Ivan glanced inside and turned to the Warden and asked, “Why do you have snake food?”

“Oh, I eat those.”

“Really?” I thought, “Then why do you have a pantry full of regular food?”

The Warden was getting positively anxious by now, and Kali had slipped in and suggested that my behavior had put him on edge. My behavior? Olmas and Ivan were the ones talking to him as he got more and more upset, not me.

The Warden was standing next to the remaining closed door where I had pushed him, when suddenly he started, looking fearfully at the door as he edged away.

Olmas reached over and opened it. The room was a vivarium with a score of vipers slithering about.

I thought the halfling was going to faint from the fright. “Snakes, kill the snakes!”

Clearly the halfling was not in his right mind, and thinking that he might be charmed and under mental control of someone else, I climbed the stairs and began to open doors. Ivan was close behind.

But we failed to find anyone else. The first room was an armory of sorts, the second an unused bedroom, and the third clearly belonged to our host.

Kali then called up in Elvish that the halfling was radiating some form of transmutation magic, and maybe I would be needed downstairs.

Oddly enough the Warden answered back (a hermit halfling that can speak Elvish?) that it was probably just the result of Ivan’s healing spell. Hmm, conjuration: not likely.

Meanwhile downstairs the Warden finally snapped and ran up the stairs to stand threateningly in front of me.

“Bite him!” snapped Star.

This did not seem like the best of advice, but perhaps if he saw me swinging my flail he might feel more inclined to talk.

No. He did not. Instead he transformed from a feeble looking halfling to a human sized creature with boney limbs, long claws, and a featureless face.

What the hell? I should have listened to Star.

He slashed at me and grabbed me with surprisingly strong arms. Fortunately Olmas and Sparna were hot on its heals, although the narrow stairwell made it difficult for them to reach the thing.

Olmas and Sparna each tried to hit it, but missed, which at least caused the thing to let me go and strike at Olmas.

Ivan let fly an arrow and shot it, and then both Olmas and Sparna struck it solidly, felling it. They drug its bleeding body downstairs, where I killed it.

warden

So if this was not the Warden, then where was he? Radella had been out scouting around the grounds and said she had seen signs of a struggle, and so we searched both in and out for the body of the halfling.

Instead we found a secret door to a bolt hole, where the Warden was hiding. He had been seriously injured, but after a little channeled energy he (along with Olmas and I) felt much better.

He explained that the creature was a “stalker,” which could assume the shape of its victim. They roamed the swamps, which is why he kept vipers, their mortal enemies, but this one caught him outside, beyond the aid of his snake friends.

He introduced himself as Walthus Proudstump, aka the Warden of the Swamp. Mouse and bird droppings.

Walthus was very grateful, and invited us to spend dinner and the night at his place. He also gave us a cloak of resistance, which was nice. It was also too small for any of us except Sparna to wear.

[100] +1 cloak of resistance (small) (Sparna)

He was also happy to provide information about the Licktoad goblins.

They lived deeper within the swamp, in a ramshackle fort they built for themselves. There were a couple of fishermen’s paths that led to their stronghold which we could take one to get to them, although it was likely to be watched.

He discouraged trying to trailblaze through the swamp and so come upon the goblins from an unexpected route. The mires, bogs and creatures — especially the Soggy River Monster — would make that route unnecessarily dangerous.

We will set out first thing in the morning.

 

Starday, Sarenith 23, 4712 Mid day
Brinestump Marsh

We ate a hasty breakfast and wished Walthus well, promising we would return at nightfall if we were in need of a nearby place to stay.

After back tracking over yesterday’s path we found the trail leading to the goblin fort. Little footprints of goblins and their dogs showed they must race up and down the path like squirrels.

The same sights, sounds as smells as the day before assaulted us, with the stench becoming especially stronger as the sun rose higher in the sky. We came across more bridges, and an unexpected fork in the way, at which we went west (right) further into the swamp.

Presently we came upon a crudely built fort: a palisades of rotting timbers driven into the muddy ground extending on either side of a foul smelling pool.

A gate had once barred entry, but had been pulled down and was lying, broken upon the ground.

We cautiously approached and looked around. Lots of little goblin prints ran out from the gateway, over the fallen gate (which appeared to have been pushed down from within). There were also human sized prints, but these were from boney feet — boney as in skeletal!

The structures within were on stilts to keep them about five feet up off the muck (and I had always thought goblins were beneath such cares), and raised covered walkways connected them.

The smell of smoke filled the air, and we could see that at least one of the goblin buildings had burned to the ground.

But a much stronger and far more wretched smell came from a large pit just inside the gate. Refuse, bones, and goblin corpses littered the bottom, and large black flies buzzed about, swarming anyone who came too near.

We carefully walked around the pit, and Sparna climbed up the short ladder to peer inside the first building. He called out, “Goblins!” and entered.

Kali looked at me with concern and asked, “Do you think this is right?”

“No, but healing might be needed,” I answered and followed Sparna.

Olmas climbed onto a walkway and entered from that direction.

There were perhaps a dozen goblins cowering in the corner. They seemed fairly pathetic and cowed at first, but when they saw us their look changed from that of prey to predator. Ah well, I needed the gold anyway.

Ivan shot an glowing arrow into the room, hitting a goblin and lighting up the space.

And so went our first fight together, with ranged folk sending in arrows and spells from a distance while the rest of us bashed goblin skulls to paste.

Goblins from another building leaned out a window and began to shoot arrows at our party outside, but they turned their attacks to this new threat, eliminating it in short order.


goblinfortA

Our goblins were killed, and we quickly followed the walkways from building to building. At some point we unintentionally separated into small groups as we opened doors, and so when Radella opened a door and yelled, “Lots of goblins!”
we had to scramble to get over to her.

Lots there were, and these put up stiff resistance, but we eventually killed them all, slaying the last one as it fled toward a pair of double doors.

The doors were barred.

We’ve taken a moment to gather together — how the hell could Kali risk exploring a full quarter of the fort on her own? I have drawn a quick sketch of the goblin fort layout based upon what we have seen thus far.