@Kayosin: You don't know much about them. Both live in the swamp and rarely come into town. 'Warden' Proudstump is a halfling and Megus reputedly a witch.
Ikshvaku signs his name in common, followed by a line in the curlicued symbols of Vudran. "I only need to retrieve my armor and bow from my room at the Rusty Dragon and I will be ready. Is Parooh's store on the way back there?"
Everyone roll either KN Local (DC10) or Perception (DC 15) to pick up any of these local rumors. If you make it, roll a d8 for every 5 you make it by.
The Soggy River Monster was seen again, this time by a fisherman on the New Fish Trail. He said it stood taller than a man, had white skin, and had a mouth that opened all the way down its neck. It was eating a goblin in the far side of the river, which is why the fisherman was able to escape.
The Licktoad goblins have never been much of a problem, but now that they've found all those fireworks, they seem braver, that's for sure. Folks think they've learned how to make them and are planning to set Sandpoint on fire!
It's been a long time since Old Megus came to town. I bet she's used her witch magic to turn into some kind of swamp zombie and is stalking the swamp looking for folks to eat!
That weird halfling that lives at the end of New Fish Trail in the marsh raises snakes as pets. I kid you not! He coddles them like my niece cuddles her pet rabbit, Mr. Nibbles! Takes a special kind of weirdo to keep snakes as pets.
Farmers around Egan's Wood say that there's been muddy hoofprints appearing on their roofs lately. Sounds like the Sandpoint Devil's looking for somone 'round these parts to carry off for a nice meal!
Some travelers coming up coast say they saw a dragon – a big black one – flying around above central Mosswood. Hope they were drunk or something. We don't need dragons that close to town!
A couple of weird holes have shown up in the fields around Pauper's Graves, and the old tree in the cemetery seems to be leaning funny, almost like something's been digging around in there. Hope it's not ghouls.
A lot of fishermen have been talking about seeing some sort of red seagull lately. Thing is, that seagull always seems to show up just before some sort of accident or other bit of bad luck. They've been calling it the 'Stoot Bird' of late, saying it's soaked in blood or something and that it's possessed by that mainac Stoot's ghost.
Ajerviskanis signs his name in common, and pauses a moment, considering Ikshvaku's additional signature. He then signs his name in Vudran as well.
Braydon enters the office slightly out of breath from the jog over. As he crosses the doorway, he sniffs a few times, as if catching a vaguely familiar odor.
Perception (general):
Perception (rumors):
"Um..what exactly does this notice mean? I was ord..want to go, but..um..what does it entail?"
Fibek recounts rumor to all in a fine tenor voice.
"Interesting, yes, but it may not relate to the activities of the goblins. Unless the Sandpoint Devil has perhaps provided them with their fireworks?"
The gnome takes the offered quill then the contract and presses it against the side of the table. He gives it a cursory read, hrumphing at the lack of fine-print and ominous clauses, then signs it with a flourish against the vertical surface. "What's it mean dismemberment voids the terms of the agreement?"
He returns the contract with a smile, "This should be exciting... or painful. Possibly both."
"Does..does it say that? Really? Let me see.."
Braydon seems only partly relieved to find it doesn't say that..
"Maybe I shouldn't...No, I need to do something, and this seems like a simple enough start. I can do this, and so I will do this."
Braydon signs onto the expedition.
Straehan chuckles, "Don't fret, young sir. These sorts of adventures never turn ill. And if it does... just remember the safest spot to be is between a gnome and the problem."
Ikshvaku looks around at the motley septet. "If we are to succeed, we must have information and something of a plan. For information we need the map Sheriff Hemlock spoke of, yes? To make our plans, we need to know each other's abilities and limitations. I shall begin." A note of unmistakable pride edges into his voice as he continues. "Though I have spent most of my life in Varisia, I was raised as a member of the padaprajna caste, the warriors of Vudra. I am skilled in hand-to-hand combat and to a lesser degree in archery, and I am trained in outdoor survival and infiltration." He smiles slightly. "And my father trained me to work as a merchant, but that particular skill is unlikely to be of use here, yes?"
He looks around expectantly at the other six.
The gnome smiles, "I'm a cook... a dangerous cook." He briefly debates leaving that as the entirety of his skillset before adding with a shrug. "I'm monastery trained - at things other than cookery - and I dabble in magic."
Straehan chuckles, "Don't fret, young sir. These sorts of adventures never turn ill. And if it does... just remember the safest spot to be is between a gnome and the problem."
Kayosin gives a rueful shake of his head as he steps closer to Braydon, "And if you believe that, he has some delicious-looking sea-food back at the Dragon you should taste."
As two of the members of the new team introduce themselves and their skillsets, Kayosin feels suddenly out-of-place. "Well, the sheriff has asked me to come." He tries to think of a way that his own hodgepodge of skills could sound anywhere near as impressive as the warrior-caste merchant or the gnomish mage-monk… finally giving up and just laying out what he thinks might be useful. "I'm Kayosin. A fair hand at carpentry. I know a bit about Sandpoint… being from here. I've spent a few years learning a few magic tricks." He searches for anything else that might be useful, realizing that the shady skills he picked up on his travels could come in handy. He pitches his voice low, so as not to carry to any of the town's garrison men, especially the sheriff. "Though I can be quiet when I want, and I might have picked up a thing or two about circumventing locks." He shrugs and lapses into silence, avoiding eye contact.
Admitting some skill with distasteful talents has GOT to be better than having nothing to contribute, right? he thinks with as much self reassurance as he can muster.
Ajerviskanis thinks for a long moment, and then speaks:
"I am simply here to help wherever I can. I'll try not to get in the way of such capable folk." He settles his old bones against a wall, and heaves a comfortable sigh. His faded eyes move around the room, though it is unclear what they are following.
A thing of legend, the Sandpoint devil is a horrific beast said to stalk the western coast of Varisia near the town of Sandpoint. Rumored to have been birthed by a woman cursed by Lamashtu, the Sandpoint devil is one of the most famous local legends. Tales of it's depredations are legion, including that it steals children from windows left open. Despite long-standing rewards for its capture, it has never been caught. When hunters and travelers go missing along the Lost Coast, chances are you'll hear tell that the Sandpoint devil got them.
Descriptions of the creature vary widely due to the fact that it only appears on nights when thick fog rolls in from the Varisian Gulf. It is generally thought to look like a nearly skeletal horse with bat wings, stunted forelegs, a lizard-like tail and a jaw filled with sharp teeth. Its powerful hind legs allow it to walk upright like a man.
It's maddening scream has been known to strike terror into even the stoutest of hearts and it can exhale large gouts of sulfur-tainted fire, burning all who would dare harm it.
It's said to make its home in or near the Devil's Platter on the Lost Coast. Judging from the charred and half-eaten carcasses it leaves behind, it prefers the taste of meat. Although it had been known to attack people, it generally restricts itself to hunting wild game, or devouring helpless livestock, much to the consternation of local farmers.
Typical signs of the devil's passing include hoofprints smelling of brimstone in odd places. Rumors also suggest that it is not unique.
Goblins are short, emaciated-seeming creatures, roughly the size of a halfling. They tend to be around three feet tall with large, flat heads, long ears, leathery grey and often wrinkled skin covered in tiny scars, warts, and scabs. Goblins grow little, if any, hair, relying on their thick skin and huddling together in groups to keep warm. They have small, beady red eyes set close together over little pug noses, above hideously wide mouths lined with sharp little teeth. Goblins often dress in rags and scraps cast off by other humanoids and bear coarsely cobbled-together equipment.
Many humans and similar races find it hard to distinguish between male and female goblins, though they do possess the appropriate organs. Excessive weight is considered a sign of beauty among female goblins, with the ideal of goblin sexuality being an obese female barghest.
Goblins mature rapidly, reaching adulthood in five years and living up to fifty (though most goblins are violently killed before the age of 20). Goblins' extremely high level of energy comes from both their accelerated metabolism and their dangerous lifestyles. Their fast metabolisms make goblins eating machines stricken with almost constant hunger; fortunately, goblins can subsist on almost anything organic. They love salty foods, especially pickled food of all types.
Goblins rarely build their own structures; they prefer to use terrain and natural defenses to their advantage, often settling in areas of heavy undergrowth, easily defensible caves, and ruins. They rely on scavenging for most of their sustenance and are gifted at surviving in even the most hostile climes. Goblins gather in tribes of up to a few dozen, led by a chieftain and sub-chiefs who are simply the toughest individuals in the group. They keep numerous mounts in their settlements, typically wolves, worgs, and/or goblin dogs.
Goblins have an near-pathological fear and hatred of horses and dogs, most likely due to the mutual hatred displayed by these animals. Goblins are, in many ways, defined by their fears - not just of dogs and horses but of humans as well, and even their religion is based on fear of their gods. Religion holds an important place in most tribes, with complex (and, to outside ears, ridiculous) myths and legends, often fixating on odd-shaped natural features.
When not at war, goblins amuse themselves with sadistic games, inane but catchy songs, and arson. Their love of fire is as strong as their hatred of horses, dogs, and gnomes.
Goblins have an irrational fear of writing, however, believed by some to stem from the contracts used by Asmodeus to bind their barghest forebears in the mists of time. They believe that the mere act of writing words steals them from one's head.
Goblins love to collect treasure, but value appearance over utility. Thus, a shiny but worthless trinket is valued over a powerful but ugly magic item. The exception is goblin chieftains, who often possess the wits to make use of such items - if they can remember where they've been stashed.
Four Goblin Hero-Gods are common objects of worship among goblins, but they revere Lamashtu above all else because she freed them from Asmodeus. Goblin tribes that worship one hero-god to the exclusion of others are considered heretics.
The Licktoad goblin tribe lives in Brinestump Marsh. They are excellent swimmers who like to search the marsh, in their free time, for little white toads. These toads, if swallowed, provoke intense visions and dreams.
They are one of the smallest goblin tribes in the area and are the ones most commonly looting the dump in Sandpoint. Their leader is Chief Rendwattle Gutwad, a corpulant monster who, it's said, never leaves his throne.
They usually avoid contact with 'longshanks', which, coupled with their swampy home, has kept the tribe relatively safe so far. Even during the Troubles they managed to avoid being as decimated as the rest of the local tribes.
The Vudrani listens intently to each of the speakers in turn, pausing before Ajerviskanis speaks to ask the first two: "Now, when you speak of magic there is a lot packed into one small word. Do you speak of magic on the order of, 'I say a word and all the goblins die,' or magic on the order of 'I say a word and the goblin might have a harder time hitting me with his dogslicer?' As you will no doubt agree, the answer will lead to a marked difference in the sort of plan we make."
After Ajerviskanis finishes, Ishkvaku nods respectfully to his countryman. "Any advice you have to offer will doubtless be useful. I suppose the other part of the question I should have asked all of you to start with is 'How fragile are you?' That is, should we make our plan so that you are protected from goblin attacks?"
The gnome checks a scuff on his boot for a moment, "More of the 'I say a word and goblins come out extra crispy' kind of magic." He regards the man, "Like I said... dangerous cook."
Ajerviskanis' eyes move to Ahshvaku and he grins.
"I certainly have no interest in being on the unpleasant end of goblin knives. And while I may be old, blind, and dashingly handsome, I am also well-versed in self-defense, young friend. I could teach you a thing or two as well."
Sumisu stands and listens to the lot speak about their ability. When he believed his turn had arrived, he spoke in a clear tenor voice without a hint of an accent. "I am Sumisu Fulanke, student of the Arcane, among other things. Be not concerned for my durability. Do watch for Tanooki, he is easily damaged." During the small person's short speech the Owl bobbed its head in agreement. After a moment's pause, Tanooki picked up one foot and brought it down a couple of times on Sumisu's head. Another moment passed and Tanooki did it again. Sumisu seemed a little irritated as he added. "In emergencies, I do have a limited healing ability as well." Tanooki nodded again and if it were possible for an owl to be a bit smug, he was.
Kayosin half-listens to the fledgeling team's banter as he considers their quarry… as well as Fibek's rumor about the Sandpoint Devil. When a break in the conversation presents itself, he speaks up. "So, considering what we've all just agreed to do, I might have some helpful information." He spends a few minutes filling the group in on all that he can remember about the Devil, the Lick-Toad goblins as well as goblins in general.
He smirks at the information about the Sandpoint Devil, "Not sure how much stock I put in all the legends about the Devil, but there are too many and too similar accounts to discount it completely. As to goblins… well, they're crafty buggers and we should be prepared for some serious guerrilla-style combat. Knowing what they're afraid of could come in handy in a pinch."
"Do you speak of magic on the order of, 'I say a word and all the goblins die,' or magic on the order of 'I say a word and the goblin might have a harder time hitting me with his dogslicer?' "
Kayosin shrugs, "Um, my instructor knew mostly combat-related spells. Certainly nothing that instantly made things die or warped their brains or anything."
"I suppose the other part of the question I should have asked all of you to start with is 'How fragile are you?' That is, should we make our plan so that you are protected from goblin attacks?"
Again, Kayosin looks around, unsure of how to answer the question. I'm certainly no warrior caste.
"Um. I've seen a fight or three. Some of them bloody, some just bar brawls." He pulls back his cloak to reveal a strange, exotic-looking and curved short blade , "I know which end not to stick in me, if that helps."
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Ajerviskanis squints at the Sumisu for a long moment.
"That is a spectacular hat, my diminutive friend."
Kayosin grins at the old man's comment, not really sure if it was a joke or not. Regardless, he speaks to the strange little mystery-man. "Master Simusi, I've seen you with Koya. How do you two know each other?" As an after-thought, he adds with a shrug, "She practically raised me."
Braydon has been listening to the assembled crowd, while fiddling with a small leather bag, which he peeks into, lost in his thoughts.
"He'd say, 'lead with it - if they draw weapons or run, they weren't going to listen to the rest anyway.'"
"So, I put to you the same question. 'Arcane' is a rather broad term; are you a scholar only, or are you capable of casting spells? I shall be honest here. Success in this endeavor will very likely hinge on each of us knowing what the others can be relied on to accomplish. The goddess Suyuddha, patroness of the padaprajna caste, teaches the virtues of cunning and tactical skill. It is not possible to exercise those virtues in the absence of knowledge, yes?"
Braydon catches a curious look from Kayosin, but Kayosin says nothing.
Straehan eyes the exchange of looks and says nothing. Curious as gnomes generally are, he's learned that most of the tall folk don't like prying questions.
"Right! Let's get about map-finding, swamp-tromping, goblin-stomping, or whatnot. I've got a mind to do braised..." he eyes the owl speculatively, "...beef with mushroom sauce and that swamp looks to be teeming with the 'shrooms I need. I'll just fetch my gear and we can be on our way."
With a genial nod to the crowd, Straehan zips from the garrison and back towards the Dragon.
'Gear' is the best description... When the gnome returns he bears a well-made and tidy back-pack that clanks slightly from tins carried within it. And strapped to his leather adventurer's sash is nothing more dangerous than a large iron saucepan.
"What's the worst that can happen? I could get chased out of town by a torch-wielding mob - AGAIN - and get hunted down in a few days by Samal."
Braydon continues to fiddle with the bag, his face twisted with indescision..
Perception:
..and oblivious to events unfolding around him. If you all left, he might not notice.
Sumisu bows slightly to Ajerviskanis. "Your compliment warms me greatly, revered elder." Tanooki takes his cue and does a little bow as well.
He turns to Kayosin and answers his question. "Koya and I share a secret. Such things bring people together it seems. You are blessed to have known her longer than I."
He also politely turns to Ikshvaku with courtesy in his voice. "I apologize for the insufficient answer for not all knowledge can be easily grasped. I am able to cast spells that I would not wish to hinder you with. I would be best utilized in a reserve position for many of them can be used at range."
... going to get gear ...
"Good call," says Kayosin as Straehan leaves, and he follows the gnome out, mentally inventorying his gear to make sure he's not lacking.
… and he follows the gnome back in, carrying his own (unclanking) pack. He speaks without looking up from where he's finishing arranging something up his right sleeve, finishing by yanking his glove and sleeve into place. "So, I'd like to make a line to check in on the Warden and Megus first. If these goblins are being a problem, time could be a factor in their well-being. I'd like to pick up a few more items, but other than that, I should be good to head out when everyone else is."
He considers their trip for a few more seconds, "It might be smart to pick up a pack horse or mule on our way out. Moving while mounted may prove impossible in the marsh, but if we end up having to move much, I don't want to have to carry it all."
He turns to Kayosin and answers his question. "Koya and I share a secret. Such things bring people together it seems. You are blessed to have known her longer than I."
Kayosin answers the man's words with a simple nod.
"They talk to that 'Kayosin' like anybody else - let's try the honest method."
"Um..If you don't mind keeping it just between us, I'm a were-rat. Born that way, in fact."
Braydon waits and watchs to see if weapons get drawn or torches get lit...
Straehan blinks... twice.... then adds a third blink for good measure. Somewhat overwhelmed, he says, "Well! That's a novel way of entering a conversation, lad. I've never heard anything quite like that... at least not by anyone sober. Uh... I'm guessing it won't be a problem since you are telling us about it, right? Or do we need to lock you up when the full moon comes 'round?" He makes an allaying gesture to show he's curious, not trying to offend.
Fibek seems to be taking in the conversation with animated eyes, finally Braydon's revelation is too much to let go by.
"Do you want this malady healed? With Erastil, all things are possible. My talents are arcane, divine and I spent every summer at ranger camp. This one time, at ranger camp......"
Tanooki looked at Braydon with wide owl eyes, leaning in a little bit, staring him down. Sumisu and Tanooki then cocked their heads to the side at the same time. "Hmm... I thought you would be shorter..." said the small man, bringing up a gloved hand to scratch his head absentmindedly.
He snapped his fingers and the owl flew to the backpack, retrieving a scroll. He took it, walked over to the wall, took a note, handed it back to the owl, and headed out the door. He followed the gnome and tiefling toward the general store.
Ikshvaku's raised eyebrows and slight start are the only visible indication of surprise at Braydon's revelation. "A useful thing. Thank you for sharing that with us, yes? No one will learn of your secret from me."
"I barely understand the rules myself, but..they are different for the cursed ones and the ones born to it. I'm..I'm always me, and I don't change by accident..and it can't be cured, because it's not a curse..for me. If that makes any sense."
Braydon seems relieved to get that out in the open.
"But I didn't really answer the question, did I? I..I can cook, I'm an excellent tracker. I'm temple-trained in the healing arts, and can cast some minor healing magic. And as I mentioned earlier, I had a most excellent master, who trained me in 'Seishin senshi no michi'. He never told me what it meant - he'd joke 'I have time to teach you to fight, or to speak my native tounge, which is it?'. It basically means I can call weapons and armor from, well, nothing. And please call me Braydon, Chem is my temple name."
Ikshvaku seems more interested than surprised at Braydon's second revelation. "Can you, then? Well, if it is not too much trouble, my friend...manifest."
"Beg pardon, but my master told me not to unless I wished something dead, or to practice. If you would like to spar, I would certainly oblige."
Braydon looks about..
"Somewhere slightly less public, though."
"An excellent point! Perhaps at the House of Blue Stones sometime? Although if we venture into the swamp as soon as we are ready I will have a chance to see you practice your craft in earnest before we can spar."
"That, I think, would work best for us all. I should pick up provisions, but I can conjure drinking water at will. I doubt the swamp will deliver much in potable water, but at least we don't have to carry it with us. You mentioned a store?"
Kayosin was barely able to keep from instinctively stepping back at the revelation of the boy's nature. He's silent through the rest of the exchange.
As they head over to the general store, Kayosin quietly finds his way next to the young man. "Path of the Spirit Warrior."
When Braydon looks over, not immediately understanding, Kayosin continues, "'Seishin senshi no michi' means 'Path of the Spirit Warrior'. Or maybe it's 'Way of the Spirit Warrior'. Minkaian is a difficult tongue, and intonation and context can shade the meaning quite a bit." Kayosin's nearly black eyes flash a warm orange-yellow as they catch the light momentarily when he looks over at Braydon, "So, a natural-born lycanthrope, huh? Can't say I've ever met one. And – I hope you don't take this the wrong way – but the little guy's right. You're certainly not what I'd expect. I've always heard stories of dirty, hairy things that crawl up out of the sewers in packs to kill and steal."
He shrugs with a reserved grin, "Though I guess people react to me the same way often enough."