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CHAPTER ONE: THE BRINEWALL LEGACY
PRELUDE
It starts in a tavern. But then, it always starts in a tavern, doesn’t it? But this time, there’s actually a reason why. There’s a story behind it, settle in.
The Licktoad goblins of Brinestump Marsh have grown unusually aggressive of late. The reason for their uncharacteristic bravery isn’t a mystery – the goblins have somehow managed to arm themselves with what appears to be a considerable supply of explosives. Well, fireworks. For a goblin, that’s close enough. Their new armament has made them dangerously brave.
Several merchant caravans and travelers have already been attacked. There have been no deaths yet, but with the last few attacks resulting in severe injuries to three unfortunate travelers, the problem has escalated from an annoyance to a threat. But none of the attacks have yet inconvenienced Magnimar – only Sandpointers and other Lost Coasters have been hit so far – so the forces of the big city have been slow to react. Unwilling to idly sit by and wait for the goblin problem to escalate to actual deaths on the Lost Coast Road, Sandpoint’s leaders have put out the call for goblin exterminators.
But it’s been a number of years since Sandpoint had significant monster troubles, and it has since returned to being a relatively sleepy town. The stalwart adventurers who at one time defended the city against giants and dragons (all right, one dragon – but still) have retired, left to pursue greater adventures, or are otherwise preoccupied with their own pursuits. And Sandpoint’s city watch, always running at a lean enrollment, can’t afford to send patrols into the trackless expanse of Brinestump, although they have stepped up their presence along the Lost Coast Road itself.
The task of wading into the notorious local wetland falls instead to adventurers, be they concerned locals honestly eager to aid the town or greedy mercenaries looking to make relatively easy coin. To deal with the goblin threat, Sheriff Belor Hemlock has restored Sandpoint’s old “goblin bounty” after several years of inactivity – it was suspended when a group of eager but too-young adventurers were swept out to sea while in pursuit of goblin ears. The town of Sandpoint will pay 10 gp for every relatively fresh goblin ear delivered to the town hall – with an additional reward of 300 gp for the group who can bring in the head of the Licktoads’ leader, Chief Gutwad.
A few brave souls have already made the attempt, but nothing has been heard of them in the 3 days since they entered Brinestump Marsh, and just last night, another round of colorful explosions burst over the wetlands south of Sandpoint. The goblins are doubtless readying a new attack. So now there’s a plan.
Two groups of volunteers will head to two different sections of the marsh. One will be a small party of seasoned adventurers, sent to what is thought to be the most dangerous part of the marsh – Ameiko Kaijitsu, Koya Mvashti, Sandru Vhiski, and Shalelu Andosana.
The other group will be a larger, less experienced party, sent to mop up what will probably be goblin stragglers in what is surely the safer section. No doubt they will gain some valuable adventuring experience, and the Lost Coast Road will be that much safer for it.
That would be you.
Both groups are assembling at Ameiko Kaijitsu’s tavern, the Rusty Dragon, to chat before heading out. The four from the first group are already there, as is Sherriff Hemlock, patiently awaiting the arrival of everyone else so he can talk with them about the task before them.
Ameiko, a beautiful but somewhat irreverent woman of Tian descent and Sandpoint’s most unlikely noblewoman, is currently tending bar. Always fond of unusual hairstyles, she has bleached two long strips a snowy white. The snake tattoo on her upper arm seems to writhe in the flickering firelight that lights the tavern. It is a cloudy early morning, and the light and warmth of the fire is welcome.
Sandru, a handsome man now only few years from middle age, sits on a barstool and chats with her, with a quick laugh and an easy wit. His caravan is back in town once again, and he naturally agreed to help out his home.
And with the caravan also comes Koya, a woman in remarkably good shape, physically, for someone well over 60 years of age. She sits at a side table, and appears to be cultivating a mysterious air, although admittedly she doesn’t have to work very hard at it. Mystery runs in her family.
Shalelu, sitting across from her, may give her a run for her money in the mystery department, however. The blond-haired elf has always come and gone for reasons of her own, and few know her well enough to ask her why or where she goes.
Sitting alone and surveying the scene from a corner is the balding Sherriff Hemlock, a stern expression on his face as he glances at the door and wonders exactly what sort of unblooded, overconfident volunteers are about to stumble through it.
Come in and say hi.
Alaric Graff enters the tavern, armed, armored and looking all the more awkward for it. Not an especially large man, the clanking scale mail and the brutal morningstar manage to give him a little heft. His coloring is Taldan: brown hair, bronze skin and intense green eyes. His grooming is, sadly, indifferent at the moment: both hair and beard are shaggy, though he does bathe frequently. Some damnfool nonsense about it being healthier or something. He's always saying the most ridiculous things.
As soon as he sets eyes on Koya, he breaks into a grin, and throws her a nod. Their debates are becoming a Sandpoint institution, along with their pointed, if ultimately friendly insults. He'll settle at a nearby table, gingerly leaning the brutal spiked club against it, as though he doesn't quite trust the thing not to leap up and bludgeon him.
Koya Mvashti nods back at Alaric with the air of a fencer anticipating a good match against a skilled opponent.
She glances at the morningstar, and then back at the cleric.
"Pointy end goes into the goblin," she comments.
At the entrance to the House of Blue Stone, Melinda starts to exit, and then pauses as she hears something from the within. Admonition, advice, or warning. Whichever it is the tall, slight girl nods before turning, wincing, in the cloudy morning light. She moves from shadow to shadow traveling across town. Her actions aren't furtive or sneaky, but quick. When the Dragon comes into view, a smile plays across her lips and excitement shines in her emerald eyes.
Opening the door to the warm darkness, a small sigh of relief and then her eyes dart about seeing who is here. A small furrow of disappointment when she realizes that Ameiko is behind the bar rather than closer to the well-maintained samisen.
She slinks across to the bar... Well, she tries to slink, but doesn't quite manage the graceful action, leans the quarterstaff she carries against the wall and pulls herself onto a bar stool. She smiles at the other patrons with a quick hello to those she knows. She looks at the Dragon's owner, opens her mouth to say something, but seems to change her mind just as quickly.
Ameiko hands a freshly poured flagon of stout to Sandru and turn to greet Melinda with a welcoming smile. She apparently notices Melinda's frown towards the samisen, hanging from its peg on the wall, because she inclines her head towards the Dragon's small stage and says, "Oh, come on. Everyone has to be bored with my playing by now. When are we going to get to hear you? Sasha tells me you've been practicing."
Kalimac Proudfoot strides into the tavern. He is tall for a halfling, although that isn't saying much. He straightens up to his full three foot height and surveys the tavern.
Kalimac is a good looking halfling, brown of hair and with dark soulful eyes. He is quick to smile, and possibly quicker to laugh. He moves with the studied efficiency of a soldier.
Seeing his friend and confidant, Sandru, he cracks a wide grin and saunters over. "Sandru! Glad to see you're back in town. A pint of bitter, Ameiko, if you please."
Koya Mvashti nods back at Alaric with the air of a fencer anticipating a good match against a skilled opponent.
She glances at the morningstar, and then back at the cleric.
"Pointy end goes into the goblin," she comments.
Alaric chuckles at that. "Trust a priest to know the best way to kill something."
At Ameiko's comment Mel blanches, her pale skin going more colorless. Her eyes fill with conflicting emotions whipping quickly through her mind, and guilelessly, across her face. She shakes her head, strands of her dark hair momentarily falling across her face, but the emotion that plays across her lips is mostly pride. When she does speak, her voice is an alto purr, I have, but I don't think you want me to chase everyone out into the cold with a screeching that has most recently been compared to that of a vrock.
She hesitates, obviously not sure about what she about to say next, And... I don't think anyone is tired of your music, her voice dropping as she speaks, you always put a new spin on the stories that you sing.
With a practiced stoop, Hrunndalf enters through the Dragon's Varisian-sized door and bellows a hearty greeting. Clad in mail and wolfskin, blonde mane and beard neatly braided, blue eyes ablaze, he is clearly ready for adventure.
He hangs his greatspear from its customary peg and makes his way to the bar, greeting a few patrons here and there with a word or a heavy pat on the back, and takes a seat next to Sandru, acknowledging the caravan master's presence with a grunt.
"As always, you are a pleasure to behold, Mei-mei," he booms at the bartender in a rich basso. "Have you something to warm a weary traveler?"
A young lady, slight of build and wearing the bright, diaphanous material of an entertainer, slides through the door and around the edge of the growing crowd towards the bar. She gives a quick glance in the direction of Shalelu’s table, nodding to her slightly with a smile touching her lips whether or not she is noticed. She looks back towards Ameiko as she reaches her objective, “Aunty, thank you so much for letting my sister and I stay here. You seem to have a crowd growing. May I help you serve?” She stands in front of the bar, but not in the way of any of the patrons, her eyes blinking, then widening in anticipation.
Before Ameiko has a chance to reply to Melinda, Hrunndalf enters the room and walks up to the bar to greet her. Ameiko gestures to Melinda to indicate that she’ll return to their conversation in a short while, and turn to welcome the newcomer. “Hi there, Hrunndalf,” she says warmly to the Northerner. “I’m sure I can find something to warm your bones on this cold morning.” Without waiting for a reply, she moves back to pour water from a pot that has been sitting on the iron stove into an ornate Minkai teapot.
Soon after, Sandru breaks into a broad grin as he sees his old friend enter the bar. "Kalimac!" he roars, "Pull up a chair! Come to show the goblins what a Proudfoot is made of, have you?" He waves Kalimac over and gestures at the people beside him to include them in the conversation. "You probably already know Hrunndalf," he continues, "But have you met ..." He turns his gaze to the teenager beside him. "... Melinda, isn't it? Elena's girl?"
Meanwhile, at the table, a slight smile creeps on to Koya's face. "Trust a heretic to mock an important truth when it's handed to him," she replies. She pulls out a chair with her foot. "What are you drinking, boy?" Shalelu silently watches the back-and-forth, her expression not betraying whether she is amused or annoyed.
It takes the skills of someone used to observing the swift, subtle physical language of animals to catch the slight nod that Shalelu gives in acknowledgement of the entrance of her younger sibling.
Behind the bar, Ameiko glances up from pouring a splash of milk into a cup and looks over the growing crowd in the tavern. ”Actually ... that’d be really great, Myriana, if you’re sure you don’t mind. Thank you. If you could get just the orders from the tables to me while I deal with the bar, then I think we can get everyone drunk enough to willingly go into the swamp in time.”
While everyone is busy, drinking, ordering, chatting, and what not, a disheveled, and somewhat dirty looking elven girl slips in and scans the room briefly. Noting that Shalelu is present seems to relax her a little, and she almost has a smile for Myriana. She doesn't actually approach the bar, nor does she go up to anyone, rather, she takes a seat within easy reach of the door.
She's short for an elf, maybe 5'6" in shoes, and she's dressed like a peasant in a baggy shirt and old pants. A rugged backpack is by her side, and she's got a bow slung over a shoulder. If anyone is close enough, she smells a little like lemons.
For a moment Mel watches the interplay between Ameiko and the large northerner, but as Sandru includes her in his own conversation, she turns toward the pair. Only if she's not annoyed with me... If so then I seem to be Ana'a girl, she replies with an impish smile. Which turns to a friendly smile, disconcerting only for the canines that peek over her lower lip, as she greets the tall halfling, Greetings, Mr. Proudfoot? only a slight question in her voice to ask if she has the right name, as she extends her hand open palmed.
As she hears Myriana offer Ameiko, Kalimac is almost positive he hears the girl very quietly curse her own lack of manners.
Myriana’s smile broadens and she lowers her head and eyes, “It is my pleasure Aunty. Thank you for allowing me to be of service. Though from the sound of things, I don’t think they’ll need any extra incentive. Of course, I could be wrong.” She makes her way around the room collecting orders, and makes a special point to sit down with Lio for a few moments and get her something to drink as well.
Myriana’s smile broadens and she lowers her head and eyes, “It is my pleasure Aunty. Thank you for allowing me to be of service. Though from the sound of things, I don’t think they’ll need any extra incentive. Of course, I could be wrong.” She makes her way around the room collecting orders, and makes a special point to sit down with Lio for a few moments and get her something to drink as well.
Lio speaks quietly to Myriana, when asked what she'd like to drink. "Water?" It's a question, really. She pulls out a lemon from a pocket, cuts it open with a knife that's really more of a dagger, and offers half of it to her friend.
Hrunndalf gratefully accepts the steaming mug of pale green liquid and turns to the newcomers.
"Milk in tea," Ameiko says cheerfully as Hrunndalf sips, "Is a barbaric custom. But I supposed I should not expect otherwise, from a barbarian."
"Milk in tea," Ameiko says cheerfully as Hrunndalf sips, "Is a barbaric custom. But I supposed I should not expect otherwise, from a barbarian."
"Hah!" bellows Hrunndalf, "If only the Tian people didn't spurn milk and its manifold health blessings, even they could grow to a respectable size." Hrunndalf's moustache splits into a wide grin, and his voice drops to a low rumble. "And it is hardly a mark of wisdom to taunt a barbarian within arm's reach. But I suppose I should not expect otherwise, from a minstrel girl."
Kalimac nods to the tall Ulfan. "I do know Hrunndalf. I've been eager to see him in action. It is said to be a sight to behold."
He bows deeply to Melinda. "My lady. Kalimac Proudfoot, at your service. But please, call me 'Kalimac.' My father is 'Mr. Proudfoot.'"
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Sandru frowns at Hrunndalf’s comments to Ameiko, but Ameiko herself appears to be enjoying the exchange. “I have never laid claim to wisdom," she replies. "But I will say that the last time I experienced the ‘health blessings’ of milk, I needed to stay in the outhouse for a week. If those are the blessing sought by your people, I begin to understand the urge to go raiding far from home.”
She then turns to Kalimac and Melinda. ”Now. I have customers without a beverage, and that will not do. What can I get for you two?”
She then turns to Kalimac and Melinda. ”Now. I have customers without a beverage, and that will not do. What can I get for you two?”
"A pint of bitter, please."
Kalimac turns back to Melinda. "Do I understand correctly that you play the samisen, my lady? Please do us the favor of a song. I'm sure your talents are considerable, and that your playing will be the highlight of the evening." He motions encouragingly towards the stage.
Meanwhile, at the table, a slight smile creeps on to Koya's face. "Trust a heretic to mock an important truth when it's handed to him," she replies. She pulls out a chair with her foot. "What are you drinking, boy?" Shalelu silently watches the back-and-forth, her expression not betraying whether she is amused or annoyed.
"You're dealing in truth now? What a pleasant surprise." Alaric smiles genially at the newcomers before turning back to Koya. "I suppose I'm drinking whatever you are. Prune juice and regrets, as per usual?"
Myriana makes her way round the tavern. Personally dropping off Lio's water and lemon with an especially fond smile. She stops at the table with Sandru, Melinda, Kalimac, Hrunndalf, Koya, Alaric and Shalelu. ”Your pint is coming up, sir., she smiles at Kalimac, ”More tea?” towards Hrunndalf, ”Can I get the rest of you anything? Two prune juices, then?, she says with slightly cocked head a raised eye-brow and a half-smile. As Kalimac turns and speaks to Melinda, Myriana gives just a bit of a happy bounce. ”Oooh, please? That would be fabulous.”
"That was a joke, dear. Pint of stout, if you please.
"Of course", she smiles broadly, "Anyone else?"
Koya cackles. "No joke for me. 'Prune juice' it is, for those of us strong enough to stomach it." She turns to Myriana. "A glass of plum wine, please. Tell Ameiko the strong stuff, from last year's season." She hooks a thumb toward Alaric. "And put the boy's stout on my tab."
At the bar Ameiko slides a mug of bitter into Kalimac's hand. Then she mutters quietly to something that cannot be seen on her right side, and soon an invisible force, like some kind of servant that cannot be perceived with vision, is helping Myriana distribute drinks around the room.
Kalimac grins at Alaric and Koya. "I have heard it said that prune juice is a warrior's drink," he quips.
"So it says in Worf's 'Art of the Warrior'." says Sandru. "It does increase your desire to get through a battle quickly, I'll say that for it."
Mel responds to Kalimac's request with a small shake of her head and a small laugh directed completely at herself. No, M... Kalimac. I can't play the samisen, and I wouldn't want to break Ameiko's by pounding away on it. Her eyes, lit with happiness and pride, follow Ameiko working behind the bar for a moment, Auntie Sasha is trying to teach me how to play the flute. It's not as delicate an instrument as the samisen, so less likely that my heavy handed grip will ruin it.
She smiles, And, honestly, I don't think you want me to give a go on it right now. The last person that I played for compared the sound to that of a vrock's dance... He even took took cover in expectation of the burst of electricity that should accompany such a cacophony.
The quips back and forth about prune juice does not make the purple liquid sound any more appetizing. Do you have oranges in for a more palatable juice?
Kalimac nods to the tall Ulfan. "I do know Hrunndalf. I've been eager to see him in action. It is said to be a sight to behold."
"Just brute force and the leverage of a polearm, nothing for the skalds to sing about," says Hrunndalf. "This fine gentleman, though, is reputed to ride into battle like a liquid lightning bolt of death."
"Oh, surely he was jesting! Your playing could not possibly be as bad as that. Please, play your flute for us." Kalimac looks around for help. "Myriana, please help me convince her to play for us."
He turns back to Melinda. "Seriously, I would love to hear you play. And in the unlikely event that you do play like a vrock dances, well, we have been warned."
Koya cackles. "No joke for me. 'Prune juice' it is, for those of us strong enough to stomach it." She turns to Myriana. "A glass of plum wine, please. Tell Ameiko the strong stuff, from last year's season." She hooks a thumb toward Alaric. "And put the boy's stout on my tab."
Alaric raises his glass to Koya before drinking.
The verbal sparring seems to have put him at ease somewhat. He's no longer fidgeting at least.
“One ‘Bell’s of St. Clemens’, coming up,” says Ameiko, as she begins to mix a drink for Melinda.
“Now, now,” says Sandru. “If the girl doesn’t want to play tonight, let’s not pressure her. We can wait until she’s ready.”
“Still, it’d be nice to hear you play sometime,” says Ameiko, handing Melinda a citrusy-smelling drink. “Up on the same stage, where your mother used to ...” She trails off. There is a pause, and then everyone over the age of twenty who was raised in Sandpoint shudders.
“It won’t be the same thing at all, Ameiko,” Sandru says stoutly. “Melinda practices, you said so.”
Myriana stops as she’s about to pass the table, turns towards Melinda, apparently having missed the shudders completely. ”Oh, please, won’t you? I know you play better than I dance…if it’s okay with Aunty Ameiko of course.” she glances over at Ameiko for confirmation, then extends a hand towards Melinda. ”Come on, it’ll be fun. Oh, and if you guys don’t like what you see, then watch her instead of me. I’m just learning, it won’t hurt my feelings.”
Mel knows that she's lost the fight when Myri turns her fantastically colored blue eyes on her. A small exhalation, not quite a sigh, but definitely a surrender. Alright, but I'll leave the stage for the real artists, I can play from here.
In a smooth movement she pulls her legs up under herself on the stool so she is sitting, almost in a perfect lotus, perfectly balanced. The same economy of action brings the backpack onto her lap. As she reaches inside, a black head with large blue eyes the same color as Myriana's, pops out of the bag. She chuckles, a low sound, and pets the tiny creature before pulling a simple wooden flute from the bag. The bag is carefully placed on the bar near her, the blue-eyed cat looking reproachfully at everyone in the tavern.
Something fast enough to get everyone's blood going for tromping out into the mud, muck and gloom? She breaths slowly, then brings the flute up to her lips and begins to play. It starts slow, the sound of morning and bird but will quickly grow to a fire brand glow. Anyone familiar with the Varisians of Sandpoint will recognize the melody.
Perform:wind
Myriana, rushes to make sure Ameiko has the rest of her orders and again giving her a look to make sure it’s okay to leave her duties. She does a few quick stretches, then steps into the open space before the stage. She merges with the initial slow pace of the music, using enticing, alluring gestures (hopefully, pending dice roll) then increasing her speed and motions to match the music.
(lets see if I get this right. dice roll below)
Perform Dance;
As the speed of her motions increase, the blue-green scarf around her waist unwinds and finds its way into her hands, undulating around her body.
As the music ends, she stumbles a little, catches herself, sweeps the hair out of her eyes and laughs, "Sorry, like I said, just learning. It is fun though. Anyone else want to try?" She motions up towards the stage.
Alaric settles back in his chair to watch the performance. Before long, his eyes leave Myriana to watch Melinda's fingers fly across the instrument, apparently fascinated by the intricate movements.
As they finish, he applauds both and returns to his dwindling beer.
Hrunndalf is content to let Ameiko have the last word, and settles into enjoying the flow of conviviality around him, patiently steeping the sprig of fresh mint in his mug. After Myriana and Melinda's impromptu performance, he vigorously joins in with the applause.
Melinda’s flute performance is quite enjoyable; exactly what one might expect from, say, a young but promising bard. And if Myriana’s dancing does not quite rise to that level, neither is it by any means bad, and it is taken in the spirit of fun with which it was presented. The two are met with a hearty round of applause after the performance.
Myriana smiles appreciatively at the applause. “Doesn’t she play great?” she rests a hand just briefly on Melinda’s shoulder. Then leans close and whispers in Mel's ear, “You played really, really well.” Then continues, with a little smile and squeeze to Mel's shoulder “Just wait, I’ll catch up, you’ll see.”
She gives a little pout at the lack of takers on her offer to come dance with her. She turns in the general direction of Ameiko and the Sheriff, “By your leave, I think I will take a few moments to freshen up and get changed to something a little more appropriate for ‘slogging through the bog’.”
Kalimac raises his tankard to Melinda. "Brava, my lady. As I predicted, a lovely performance. My thanks for allowing me the chance to observe such artistry," he says with a warm smile.
Myriana makes her way round the tavern. Personally dropping off Lio's water and lemon with an especially fond smile. She stops at the table with Sandru, Melinda, Kalimac, Hrunndalf, Koya, Alaric and Shalelu. ”Your pint is coming up, sir., she smiles at Kalimac, ”More tea?” towards Hrunndalf, ”Can I get the rest of you anything? Two prune juices, then?, she says with slightly cocked head a raised eye-brow and a half-smile. As Kalimac turns and speaks to Melinda, Myriana gives just a bit of a happy bounce. ”Oooh, please? That would be fabulous.”
As Myriana hands Lio the lemony water, Lio gets a funny look, as if that hasn't been her intention. She shrugs, and bites into the other half of the lemon. Occasionally she takes a sip of water.
When the two ladies start performing, Lio leans back a little, pulling little sour fibers off the inside of the lemon peel with nimble fingers, and eating them thoughtfully as she watches the impromptu show.
In a smooth movement she pulls her legs up under herself on the stool so she is sitting, almost in a perfect lotus, perfectly balanced. The same economy of action brings the backpack onto her lap. As she reaches inside, a black head with large blue eyes the same color as Myriana's, pops out of the bag. She chuckles, a low sound, and pets the tiny creature before pulling a simple wooden flute from the bag. The bag is carefully placed on the bar near her, the blue-eyed cat looking reproachfully at everyone in the tavern.
Perform:wind 1d20+4
It's probably pretty easy to miss, but Lio looks with some interest at the very fancy cat.
Without anyone quite noticing that she did so, Shalelu has moved to a spot about five feet away from Liothonae.
"Rwy'n credu y byddwch yn mwynhau gweithio gyda nhw," she says quietly. "Maent i gyd yn dda sy'n golygu, o leiaf."
Without anyone quite noticing that she did so, Shalelu has moved to a spot about five feet away from Liothonae.
"Rwy'n credu y byddwch yn mwynhau gweithio gyda nhw," she says quietly. "Maent i gyd yn dda sy'n golygu, o leiaf."
** spoiler omitted **
Lio replies, a little smile on her face.
"Si eisi baesia jhir. Si kyrdol shor caes saes ei toli eirdae"
Lio also offers Shalelu a lemon; it looks like she has several in her backpack.
Shalelu accepts the lemon. "Ydy. Wel ..." She appear to be trying to think of something else to say. Finally, she simply says, "Ydy."
After another slight pause, she adds, "Dyna pam mae'n rhaid i ni fod yn ofalus ohonynt."
"Yes."
"That is why we must take care of them."