A hideous storm is raging. Torrents of rain streak from the sky. Thunder pounds the air. Lightning is the only illumination on this god-forsaken afternoon. Each of you has made your way to the Rusty Nail Inn to take shelter. The fire dances in the fireplace, hissing as some of the rain makes its way down the chimney. The patrons are quiet and mutter to themselves.
An old man sits near the fireplace, staring into an unknown distance. He wears a grey hat and has a long, grey beard. A minstrel strums an old lute, but no merry tune comes forth. Instead, various chords float on the air, unanswered by any song. The innkeep stares at each of you slowly while wiping the bar. After meeting his gaze, you notice that everyone in the inn is staring....right at you.
When Ford enters, the stares he gets are perhaps somewhat justified; walking in, soaking wet with his head covered by the cloak and carrying his scythe on his back, he probably looked very much like a grim reaper come to collect. Of course, the moment he pulls off his cloak hood, the smiling face underneath helps to relieve those tensions.
Looking about, Ford chuckled before raising his hands. "Please, folks. It's just me. Amazing, I know, but certainly not worth such adulation..." he praised himself, pointing at a local lady and winking before hitting the top of the bar counter. "Tender? Your cleanest milk, if you'd please! Gonna need the energy if I plan to lighten the mood in this old burg."
Kromlite looks at the minstrel and smiles at him. You play something catchy and I'll sing. You know "Under the Hills and Nearby"? No. How about "The Night they Dug Ole Dixie Six Feet Under"? No. "Stairway to Nirvana? No again, huh? Well what do you know to lighten the mood in here?"
The door thrown open by a rearing 8 ft man, rain following him as he steps inside. Soaked, he quickly wrings out some of his animal furs he wore over his spike abundant armor. Seeing, the stares, he merely shrugs them off. He grunts at the bar-tender for some ale and takes in the scene around him
Watching the scythe-armed stranger gorge down milk, makes him chuckle. Which comes out a high growl
"Man, ask for milk at bar. Haha,"
"Stairway to Nirvana? I thought it was 'Ladder to Asgaard'? ...eh, whatever, play something catchy! No need to be so glum here anymore." Ford said, encouraging the gnome in his attempt to play a song.
Ford chuckles at the Barbarian right back, sipping at his drink and smirking. "Milk's good for ya. And unlike mead, it won't impair my ability to think. Which I'm gonna need if I plan to solve this town's dilemma." Ford raised his cup to the other two before taking another swig. "I am a member of the Pathfinder Society, and I believe our job is to leave no question unanswered. ...shame I left my Wayfinder back at the Lodge, but no matter!"
Ford raised his glass again, smirking. "I hope this town is ready to change it's name... because I'm about to bring back the children to Riddle Creek!" he declared boldly, chugging the rest of his drink. A bold declaration... but anything worth doing was worth doing loud and proud. To Ford, anyways...
Karim swaggers in shortly after the others, wiping mud from his boots before ducking through the doorway.
"Subtle," he says with a smile as he hears Ford's declaration. He raises a hand in greeting, ignoring the odd stares from the inn's patrons.
A piece of his mentor's wisdom came back to him as he lays eyes on the hulking barbarian: Always find the strongest man in town and make friends with 'im. Ye never know when ye might need a brute to watch yer back. This in mind, he takes a seat next to Yiniv and asks the barkeep for a mug. "Interesting crowd in here tonight, eh, fella?" He downs a mouthful of ale, then adds: "You're here to solve the riddle of Riddle Creek too, eh?"
The patrons roar in glee at Ford's declaration. Despite the ragged clothes that everyone is wearing, all of you get unending offers of drinks and food.
As the evening wears on, the old man sitting by the fireplace gets up and walks over to the group. Smiling, he says to Yiniv, Well met! I am Fogg. I retired here from adventuring a number of years ago and am glad to see that Father Porbos' prophecy is coming true! Despite the dreadful weather, this really is a time for celebration. You see, for the last fifteen years now nobody has had any children here in Riddle Creek. Our festivals have lost their cheer, and many families are falling on poverty as they have no children to help with the chores. Even nearby villages are refusing to trade with us, as they fear us. I have been investigating this plague and can only surmise that it's magic in nature. I can tell you, however, that you'll want to talk to Father Porbos in the morning. There's more to the prophecy that is meant only for your ears. Regardless, I'm available to answer any questions that you have.
Ford sat down at the table with Yiniv and Karim, a leg of mutton in his hand as he chewed. He listened to old Fogg explain Riddle Creek in more detail before nodding. "A prophecy? About us?" Ford said, sounding fairly surprised. "Weird... still, I suppose we should speak with him if he knows more about this... whatever it is."
Ford leaned back in his chair. Now would be the best time to get some more information. "So, nobody's been born here in 15 years? Even longer than I thought... who was the last child born? Have any of the children already born gone missing, or did children simply stop coming?" Ford paused, before remembering to throw in one more question. "Is it just the townsfolk, or have the local animals stopped having babies too?"
Karim nods thoughtfully as he listens to Fogg's words, piquing an eyebrow at the mention of a prophecy. "I've got a question, too, actually," he says. "Anybody ever try to leave Riddle Creek and try their luck elsewhere? Y'know, see if leaving the area enabled 'em to have kids? Because it makes me wonder whether this curse thing is on the town itself or the people who live there. I mean, I'm no expert on magic, but there are a lot of different types of curses out there, right?"
He glances around the table at his companions and wonders how any sort of prophecy might have lumped this eclectic lot together.
Kromlite bucks up at the word prophecy. A PROPHECY you say?! You hear taht prophecy is in all capitals somehow. Prophecies make great songs! Why don't you tell us what you know about the prophecy after answering all these other questions.
Where are my manners?! I am Kromlite Nebthorn. Bard extraordinaire. At least the last time I asked myself I was!
Kromlite gives a huge smile and then goes around shaking hands with the others at the table and then Fogg and the rest of the locals.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Karim says, shaking Kromlite's hand. "Can I call you Krom? On second thought, that's too close to Karim- scratch that. Karim being me, by the way."
Krom works, or not. Kromlite works too. Just don't call me late for dinner! Or lunch, or breakfast or for ale!
"I called Yiniv, ztrong bull varrior. Iz nice to meet you varriors"
Yiniv thumps his chest
"Yes, Vi has come to solve town's baby problemz. Much glory it vill bring village and me."[/i]
[b]"Elderz av spokven with ze spirit-beingz? Ah I muzt talk zis Fazer Porboz. Vut evfect does zis curze have on travelerz?"
Yiniv laughs as he watches the little Gnome as he has never come by such a thing
Fogg looks at the party, eyeing each in turn. All good questions. First, several have tried to leave the village. I followed up with all of them over the years. They did not have any children after leaving. In fact, when new ones come to town, which is extremely rare these days, they are infertile to the point of miscarriage if they are already pregnant. It has not affected the animals. I've tested the water, air, trees, crops, even animals and ale. All have come out normal. Now I recognize that I'm not the most powerful wizard around, but I'd like to think that I'm good enough to detect magic and curses of the common variety. I've found nothing.
Father Porbos says that he received a message from Erastil saying that a group of travelers would arrive on the next summer's storm. These would be our saviors. He would speak no more of it except to say that these travelers should speak with him at first light the next day.
The last child born was to our dwarven innkeeper here. His name is Glain. He was born a month prematurely when his parents moved here fifteen years ago. He obviously managed to survive. His mother, a woman named Elaine, married Glorn in the city of Felspar. They moved here to take advantage of what was at that time a strong and growing trading environment here. I've speculated that being half-dwarf, which is very rare, gave Glain some sort of advantage. But I've never been able to figure it out.
As far as travelers, I've not heard of any ill-effects. Of course, I have limited knowledge in that area.
Fogg suddenly looks up as the front door to the inn opens. A large, burly man walks in, closing the door quickly behind him. He removes the hood of his cloak to reveal a stern, clean-shaven face. He walks over to the bar and speaks to the Glorn, the innkeep. Fogg looks at the party and says, that's Paul, the local sheriff. He's more concerned about keeping law and order than curses and plagues. He's good at his job, and can be helpful, but he is suspicious of strangers.
At that, Glorn points to the table that the party is sitting at and Paul walks over. He looks at everyone and says, You've no doubt heard of the local hooplah from Father Porbos. I don't want you taking unfair advantage of these people while you're here. We're all suffering, and we don't need random adventurers looting us for food and drink. So I'll ask you plainly: what are your intentions here?
Yiniv stands up, his chest puffed out. Looking down at the sheriff through his tired eyes.His large fists ball up, an air about him says he is slightly ticked
"Vi iz no common robberz! Vi come to help de people of zis townz. Vi only dezire gloryz!"
"Actually, we haven't talked to Father Porbos yet," Karim says, giving Paul a winning smile. "But no worries, Sheriff. You won't have any trouble from us. I'm here to investigate the source of this curse, but I'm sure we'd all be happy to cooperate with you if that's to your liking. Hey, if there's anything you know about what could possibly have happened in this place, we'd love to hear it." Karim leans back in his chair and sighs. "Of course, I'm sure you'd have already looked into it if there were any really juicy leads... like if there was anybody who might've had cause to lay a curse down on these people back fifteen years ago, or anything like that..."
Looking at Yiniv, Paul places his hand on the hilt of his sword, which remains in its scabbard. If it's trouble you're looking for, you've found it. If you're simply hot-headed, I'd suggest sitting down before I pull you over my knee and give you a spanking. You notice several other patrons watching uncomfortably.
Fogg interrupts, Paul, I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. Yiniv, please sit down. Paul may be rough with his words, but his steel does more than bite, and he has friends in here. Looking at Paul, Fogg continues, what about that odd cleric fellow who preached about our offending some deity and being worthy of destruction?
Paul stands uneasy, waiting for Yiniv's response to the situation.
In no hurry to end up in jail (again) so early in his stay in Riddle Creek, Karim tries to laugh off the whole conflict. "Hey, Yiniv, calm down a smidge. We just got here- let's not go getting into rumbles with the sheriff this early, eh? Can I buy you fellas a drink or two?"
Kromlite senses the trouble brewing as the big guy took offense at the sheriffs words. Let's see if we can settle things down as we are here to help these people.
"Sheriff, Yiniv is a little upset at being called a brigand, without cause, when all he wants to do is help this town. Wouldn't you be mad if someone assumed you were a brigand?
Yiniv, I'm sure the sheriff is just trying to protect his town. Who knows how many people with less pure motives than ours have been through here. Let's sit and see how we can help this town."
Yiniv thinks this over a moment in his mind, and slowly his features start to melt into a smile hearing the sheriff and the gnome companion.He claps the sheriff on the back and lets out a roaring laughter.
"HAHA it iz fine my friend. It iz good to know zat there is a real warriorz protecting zis town."
Sitting down, he pulls a chair from a nearby table and slams it down near the round table inviting the sheriff to join their discussion
"Vut vus diz "cleric" fellowz name? Vhen did he come here? Waz it about fifteen yearz ago az you zaid?"
"Yeah, this 'cleric' sounds like a good start. I'm with the big guy- when did this most pious guy do all this doomsayin'? Because a pissed-off religious fanatic calling down the wrath of some deity sounds like a plausible cause for a curse in my book."
Karim, you remember hearing about a wandering cleric of a deity named Nammuz. This cleric would demand tributes from local towns and call out curses from those that did not comply. You cannot remember his name but remember that he had stopped by Riddle Creek several years ago.
Paul visibly relaxes, taking his hand off of his sword. Yiniv, it is good that you appreciate my position. If you're all truly here to help, then I'll offer whatever assistance I can while you're here. Although I think that may be limited as my duties focus on other things. The cleric, hmm. I don't think he ever gave a name. Just came here demanding coin, food, and shelter. I ran him out of town, and he kept coming back once a week for about 6 months making the same demands. Finally, the last time I threw him out, he made a big production of shaking dirt off of his feet and spoke loudly in a language I didn't know, then he left. We never saw him again. We all took him as a crazy man.
Ford sat quietly, listening between the back and forth between his new associates and the local sheriff, occasionally taking a sip of his milk. Finally, he set his drink on the table, clapping his hands together. "Sheriff, no worries. I'm here on behalf of the Pathfinder Society from Absalom... even if I'm off-duty right now. This wouldn't be official Society work, but rest assured, my mission here is to uncover the cause of your... dilemma."
Ford tapped the table with his finger, scrunching his mouth about as he thought. "A cleric? Weird... never heard of holy men calling down angry divine might because of an empty belly. ...then again, it would make a prophecy more believable, since you'd simply have to say that a group of strangers will arrive years later to solve this... which I guess would be us." Ford leaned back, grimacing a bit. "No offense to your old prophet, but I've never been one to put stock in fate and prophecy."
Listening quietly, Yiniv scratches his beard and speaks in a booming gruff voice. Taking everything in
"Do you know vhere zis "cleric" vhen he lefvt vhich direction he vas headed? Do you know pozzibly vhat god zis man worzhiped?"
"I think I might be able to answer that," Karim says. "There was a wandering cleric of some obscure- obscure to me, anyway- deity called Nammuz goin' around some time ago. He had a racket that sounds just like that going on... demanding tribute, laying down curses on anybody who didn't treat him nice. This guy's name escapes me, but I might've heard of him stopping by Riddle Creek sometime ago. Sounds like your guy. I don't know much about Nammuz, though- religion's not really my specialty. That name ring a bell for any of you guys?"
Kromlite looks thoughtful for a moment and then says "All gods have some sort of stories or songs, give me a moment to think of any I know about Nammuz."
You notice under the table that Kromlite's feet start a little dance as he thinks.
Kromlite: You recall the following song, written by Wilbur the Bad:
He demands respect, by using the insect.
He started a famine, by eating the land.
He cured a plague, by moving a leg.
The small are his slaves, the large are his spoil.
No matter the fight, his insects are loyal.
He's known as the god of insects and has been known to dislike mankind.
Paul looks to the group. I don't think he had a name, because I remember asking him repeatedly and he refused to answer. When he left, he went north, into the Dark Forest. I know that there's an ancient temple in there, but I don't know if that has anything to do about it. You'll want to ask Father Porbos about it.
Fogg chimes in, if you go there, I'd like you to bring back a relic for me. It might give me insight into this situation. It's a gem known as the Keeper's Eye. I don't know where in that temple it is, as I've never been able to find the entrance. I just know that it was a part of the temple's worship.
Just as Fogg finishes Kromlite snaps to his feet knocking the chair over.
"I've got it! Here listen to this song:
'Nammuz of old, his blood runs cold.
He demands respect, by using the insect.
He started a famine, by eating the land.
He cured a plague, by moving a leg.
The small are his slaves, the large are his spoil.
No matter the fight, his insects are loyal.'
Not very cherry but, it gives the idea of the god."
It's a rather average performance of an average song, but Kromlite doesn't seem to notice.
"So he's a bug god?" Karim says, grimacing. "Awesome. I love bug gods. Tell me, does Riddle Creek have bug problems? Mosquitoes, roaches, anything like that?"
After the suggestion of heading into the Dark Forest and the temple therein, Karim nods his head. This sounds right up his alley. "I'm always up for some spelunking. You guys want to try and head out to that temple tomorrow after we talk to the preacher-man?"
Ford started back in his own seat and nearly lost his grip on his drink as Krom jumped up and began to sing. Cooling himself back into his chair, Ford sipped away, he listened before nodding in agreement. "Now THAT I do believe; the divine and it's (sometimes insane) involvement with our stuff."
Ford nodded at Karim. "Decent point; if this is a plague, citing the bugs would be a suitable assessment. If you can control bugs, you could deliver the plague to targets precisely. It would also explain why nothing else is sick, since he'd be targeting the townsfolk..." Ford blinked, before going slightly wide-eyed as he huddled everyone together. "I... just had a moderately disconcerting thought: suppose that's the case... but just stopping this plague wouldn't solve the infertility problem. We'd need a cure in that case... none of you happen to have some influential divine servants in your list of friends, would you?"
Fogg thinks a moment, and then adds, Now that you mention it, our rains in the summer are more severe and mosquitos have followed every storm.
Ford nodded, taking another sip from his drink before sitting back. "I guess we just don't have much more choice beyond waiting for morning and seeing this Father Porbos... how much is the rooms?"
If there are no other questions, Ford will seek out the bartender and start to negotiate a price for a room tonight.
Kromlite waits to see if there is any other information added. He then says, Yes a nice dry bed would be good!"
"...Yup, and a nice lady to warm it! Am I right, fellas?" Karim glances about. "Ford? You catch my drift, right?"
Despite his words, Karim seems a tad hesitant. Could have something to do with the plague of infertility...
The inn lets you stay the night free of charge since you're going to help the town. At morning, you wander to a small church building. the main hall is simple and functional. The pews are made of sanded wood and have a faded look to them. The pulpit is discolored, and you notice dried wax at various parts where candles were once placed. A carved image of Erastil is mounted behind the pulpit, along with paintings of men working farms. After a few moments, a side door opens, and a small, balding, pudgy man walks out, carrying a large book. He sees you, and his eyes open wide. In a hurry, he closes the door behind him and shuffles up to you.
Welcome to our Church of Erastil, my friends! I can tell that you're not from around here. Did you arrive last night? Perhaps during the storm?
Karim performs a sweeping, theatrical bow. "We did indeed," he says. "Father Porbos, I presume?"
Ford smirks as the pudgy fellow approaches, before straightening himself to attention and bowing lightly (a habit hammered into him by his father). "Yes sir! I am Ford Benett, part of the Pathfinder Society, and my colleagues and I are here to take the riddle out of Riddle Creek! We were told a man named Porbos would have something to tell us about this problem."
Yes, yes! I'm so glad you've come! These poor people have been waiting for so long! Well, that's neither here nor there. What's important is what needs to be done. Wait here. Father Porbos walks out another door and closes it behind him. After a few minutes, he comes in, leading a goat.
This animal must be sacrificed to Nammuz at the Lost Temple. All you have to do is take it there (make sure it survives the journey), and find the altar. There's no ceremony, just cut its throat and a swarm of insects should come to consume the animal. Once that's done, the curse should be lifted. Any questions?
The goat makes noises like goats do, and seems to look at all of you with a nonchalant look.
Watching from crossed burly arms at the small man, Yiniv cocks his head slightly and shrugs
"Veemz zimple enough zis goat vill zurvive ze journey den"
Karim blinks dumbly for a moment after Father Porbos' instructions. "Oh, is that all?"
He shoots an incredulous look at his comrades, aside from Yiniv, who seems happy enough with the mission parameters.
Kromlite's jaw drops as he can't believe what he's hearing. "Father Porbos, surely it can't be that simple. In the past years no one from the village has done this? This seems hardly heroic or song worthy. There must be a catch! Is there something I'm missing?"
Kromlite looks around bewildered.
Ford squints slightly at the sight of the goat, as well as the instructions given. A sacrifice to Nammuz, and at this being's temple no less? Something seemed... off. Ford couldn't quite place his finger on it, but this sounded entirely too fishy to him. Not necessarily with the mission, but with it's giver...
Ford stepped up to take the goat from the priest. "Never heard of solving a plague this way. Then again, haven't solved many plagues before. How certain are you that this will work?" Ford asked, paying close attention to Porbos' response.
"And, if don't mind, Father, can I ask a little bit about you? What do you know about the plague itself? Or it's cause? ...how long have you been in Riddle Creek? Long enough to know about the supposed cause of it, right?" he asked, carefully being non-chalant about his inquiry to keep from sounding too suspicious.
Yiniv seemingly happy with such simple instructions, not wanting things too complicated walks over to the goat and pets it gingerly and listens to the conversation. He picks up the goat and still petting it without looking up says quietly
"AWW zis wil goatee, I shall call him Vwictor. You like that don't you Vwictor? Yezz
Father Porbos shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Stammering, he tries to reply to Ford, w-w-w-well, I re-re-really don't know what to tell y-y-you. It's a dangerous journey to the temple and, well, I can't explain it very well. He looks nervously at all of you.
Kromlite begins to smell a rat. He looks a Father Porbos square in the eye and asks, "You really don't know what to tell us? You're the one with all the information that no one else has! You asked to see us and now you're acting all strangely. What aren't you telling us?"
Ford patted Kromlite as he smiled. "Now, now, Krom, let's not start throwing fits. After all, I did start asking Father Probos some rather personal questions, and I can understand his hesitation. Krom, would be so kind as to enlighten the good Father about what you know about this Nammuz?" he asked the gnome, before giving him a quick wink and turning to his other allies.
"Karim? Yiniv? Can I speak with you two? I have some favors I need doing before we can get going." Pulling the two further from Porbos, he told Yiniv in a volume that the old man could hear. "Yiniv? Could you give the goat a walk? I imagine he needs some exercise. And Karim? I need you to go get something from my room at the inn." Then, lowering his voice, spoke a bit more. "I suspect Father Porbos is hiding something, and he keeps sneaking glances at the door. Me and Krom will keep Porbos busy; can you two sneak in and try to get a look inside? Just don't alert Porbos... for the moment, I think it would be best to play along with his request, and see where it leads us."
Kromlite looks at Ford for a few seconds and then says, "Sure. I apologize for my outburst. I was expecting more grandness for having to get rid of the curse. I remembered this song about Nammuz. Have a listen"
He then starts singing the song and using bardic performance to fascinate Will DC 14.