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Decades ago, witnesses reported a fearsome cryptid outside of the quiet River Kingdoms town of Shimmerford. Dubbed the Mosquito Witch, it was rarely seen since and quickly became a beloved local legend that the town celebrates and promotes to attract visitors. But when recent attacks began savaging livestock and townsfolk alike, many have started believing the Mosquito Witch was real all along. The PCs travel to Shimmerford to unravel the cryptid mystery, but might they just become the witch's next victim?
Written by Eleanor Ferron.
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The din of ringing steel and the simmering heat of the forge makes Smine’s Weaponworks easy to find, beyond even its sterling reputation and its well painted sign. An open sliding door leads into a work area filled with apprentices, each toiling to fuel the ceaseless demands for weapons to feed the city’s famed Arena of Aroden. One of the workers, a grim-faced halfling woman barely taller than her own anvil, flashes a smile and points to a narrow staircase at the back of the smithy. Climbing the stairs provides a small respite from the din and the heat, with hanging bowls of cloves and aromatic bark making a heroic, if futile, effort to cover the smell of coal and sweat.
The Pathfinder Lodge above the smithy resembles an adventurer’s boarding house, providing an excellent cover for the comings and goings of the Society’s agents. A door to a kitchen opens, and a soot-smudged dwarf dressed in a leather apron steps out: Venture-Captain Holgarin Smine. The dwarf’s gestures brusquely to a table within the kitchen, his hands wiped passably clean of the ash and grease of his trade. An assortment of bread, cheese, and cider has been set out on the table for refreshments, as is a bizarre doll made of dried wheat stalks.
"Hope the journey went well." Smine greets. "Dangerous these days. More dangerous further west, so suppose I shouldn’t complain." His short sentences almost matching the staccato cadence of the forges below. "Won’t waste your time. Ever heard of the Mosquito Witch?"
Smine grins and leans across the table, picking up the grotesque doll. Beady, painted red eyes and a needle-like snout is barely visible through shaggy wheat-stalk hair, and six handless arms are clutched to the doll’s chest. "Local legend. Ugly thing. People claim it lives near a town out here called Shimmerford. Hunters have been trying to catch it for over fifty years. No one has managed to. Villagers sell the failed hunters dolls and souvenirs instead. Fun for all." He frowns and sets the doll down.
"Not now, though. Mosquitoes and bloodseekers started plaguing the villagers. Killing livestock. Swarming people outside. Getting into food. Been happening for a year or so. People are starting to leave the town entirely. They blame the Mosquito Witch. I don’t. Doesn’t matter. It’s a problem either way. You’re going to stop it. Any questions?"
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"Yes!" the ragged haired halfling exclaims. "Where did you get the cider? And do they, by chance, have anything a little stronger? Hard Cider? Ale? Beer? No... Damn!" He says clearly disappointed. "Ok, ok. Focus, Cottar," he mumbles to himself.
"Do we have any idea where, near Shimmerford, the mosquitoes seem to be originating? Or any where that seems to be more affected?" He scratches his bushy hair a moment. "Or is there anyone in Shimmerford that may have more information for us?"
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A half elven man sits at the table and finds himself reaching for some cheese. Cheese, so good, I know its rude but damn I can't resist!
"Mosquitoes AND witches? I've heard of them but not too much else I guess. If they've been uncaught for 50 years how are we going to fare any better?" He sighs, reaching for another piece of cheese. Stop eating already!
The man wears no armor and the only weapons you see on him are a stout walking stick and a dagger in a sheath on his belt. Spellcaster? Most likely.
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Smine shrugs.
"Never been to Shimmerford myself. Small town. Cheery place. Tourist attraction. Sells Mosquito Witch dolls, masks, bread. See them in the markets here sometimes. Hold a big festival for the witch once a year. I’ve never gotten to go. Too busy.
I've hired you a boat. Good ship. Good crew. They’ll take you down the river to Shimmerford. I’d stay inside while traveling, though. Clouds of mosquitoes are hanging by the shore and above the water. Doesn’t sound pleasant."
He then nods to Emilio.
"No specific benefit to the Society, per se - this is a favor for a friend. When you get there, find a gnome woman named Galia. Not a Pathfinder. Knows me, though. Knows we fix problems. She’s the one who sent a letter about the situation. Would have a better idea of the situation on the ground. After that, find what’s causing the problem. Stop it. Report back.
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"Well, clouds of mosquitoes aren't that odd, but maybe they are for this area. They could be a strange natural phenomenon or maybe something pushed things out of balance. Either way, we should investigate and do what we can." He pauses as he remembers some of his manners.
"I don't believe we've made proper introductions, my name is Junior Peppers, but please just call me JR." He offers a handshake to everyone, along with a smile.
Hopefully none of them have had any negative dealings with my Father in Absalom, he can be quite the vocal zealot of Arcane theory...
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Smine nods.
"Right then. No time to waste. Get going!"
Shimmerford is a forested town located near the East Sellen River’s first fork, just east of Riverton. The party travels to Shimmerford without any incident, though as you approach, thick clouds of mosquitoes hanging over the shoreline become more prominent, until the earth seems covered with writhing black masses of flying insects.
When you arrive, you find not the festive village that once was, but a suspicious settlement with empty streets and clusters of mosquitoes hovering over each puddle of water. As the party disembarks from their barge, a gnome with blueberry-blue hair and copper skin emerges from a tiny house that has been mosquito-proofed with cloth and wax crammed into every crack and seam. She hurries over to greet you, wringing her hands and swatting away any mosquitoes that come near her.
"Oh, thank goodness! Oh, thank goodness! You actually came! Smine actually sent someone! You must be them, right? No one comes here a-anymore unless they’re planning to help! Do you want to talk inside? My house is mostly mosquito-free! Can I get you anything? My beet juice is also mostly mosquito-free! Would you like to sit down? A fresh haircut, maybe? Oh, thank goodness you’re here!"
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JR races from the boat and towards the safety of the woman's home, if not for the circumstances he'd have paused as he realizes the woman is a gnome Father warned me of gnomes.. I think he's being a bit over reactive, but I'll at least keep on my guard.
"Thanks, anywhere to get away from these things. I haven't seen clouds this thick ANYWHERE!" He delays introductions until the group is safely inside.
"I'm JR, and yes we're Pathfinders sent by Smine. Who might you be?" He does his best to be polite to the woman, yet vigilant for insects at the same time.
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Upon being ushered inside the Gnome's home, the party finds that it is cramped, even for small-sized creatures .
The Gnome shuts the door, applies some wax to the frame to seal the holes, then moves over to a small brazier, which she stokes, sending the pungent smell of pine incense wafting throughout the room.
She then turns, and sighs in relief.
"Oh good. I knew Smine would come through! I'm Galia - surely he mentioned that? Things have been going from bad to worse since I sent my letter..."
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"Yes, he mentioned you, indeed," Cottar smiles and bows low to the gnome. "Cottar Whitbottom, at your service. And yes, I'll take some of that beet juice." The halfling smacks his neck with his left hand to fend off a stray mosquito while extending his right to offer a friendly hand-shake to Galia. Taking the beet juice from the gnome, he continues speaking while pulling out a small flask and pouring its contents into the juice. "What can you tell us about the happenings here? It's worse than we expected," he says giving the concotion a swirl with his index finger before dabbing off the liquid behind his ear and taking a large swig.
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Galia gulps nervously.
"W-well, you probably noticed the mosquitoes. There’ve been a lot of bloodseekers, too. Those are mosquitoes that are as big as your heads! The little ones are bad enough, but the big ones have been driving people out of the town. One even carried off poor Mrs. McClairby’s cat, and some of them killed all of Mr. Rujat’s prize cattle. It’s been really, really, really awful around here!
Most people think it’s…" Galia lowers her voice to a whisper. "…the witch. I thought that maybe it could have been a c-cultist of Ghlaunder, but that turned out to be wrong, so I don’t know what else it could be!"
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JR declines the offer of beet juice to be on the safe side and listens in to her story. I'm sure its safe but never can tell he always says.
"So, how exactly does anyone carry on with work, or life for that matter, outside here? There must be something we can wear or use to keep these damned bugs from draining us dry? Or at least from driving us crazy?"
"Who's Ghlaunder? Never heard that name before."
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Junior recalls that Bloodseekers (a.k.a. 'Stirges') are cat-sized mosquito-like monsters, which like to drain blood from their victims. Only of animal intelligence, they are driven by a constant hunger for blood...
Galia gives Junior an odd look.
"Mostly, they don't. A fair chunk of the village has fled - half the houses are abandoned! Only Tanner the tanner, and Luca the smith aren't overly bothered, and that's because they keep the vats churning, and forge-fires burning, 24 hours a day, to keep the insects at bay! Most everyone else left is too poor, or too infirm, to flee - Old Mordha and Old Ruza wouldn't survive the journey, and the Bell family are too accident-prone to make it. There's a few cryptid hunters staying at the Whitefish and Stag, but even the innkeeper is having trouble staying open, especially with Rosa the brewer drinking herself into a stupor..."
She then shudders.
"Ghlaunder? He's the God of parasites and disease. Likes mosquitoes. Likes bloodseekers. Cultists summon them a lot. Not a popular god. There was a Cultist living nearby... but it turned out he wasn't responsible for what's been happening..."
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Beltch smacks JR in the arm with a light backhand, as if to try and blame him for asking a dumb question. Then he tries to cover another way.
"Of course, WE know how to kill them. Just thought if you had a way... who are these cryot hunters? Where might we find one?"
Pulling out what appears to be a moving slug form his pack, the goblin shoves it in his mouth and chews it vigorously.
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Galia has the grace to look embarrassed.
"Oh! Um. Yeah! Yeah! About that... um. So the Ghlaunder cultist lived a little ways out in the woods! But when we found him, the others
got a teensy-tiny wee bit mad, and um... k-killed him. And then whacked him into pieces. And then burned his house to the ground with his body in it, and then salted the ground where the ashes were. But, um. The mosquitoes and bloodseekers didn’t leave... So I guess... it
actually wasn’t him? I… I feel kind of bad about it now."
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Galia shakes her head vehemently.
"No way! I wasn't going to go out into the forest! Not when things are like they are now! I'm just a barber, for Shelyn's sake!"
She then sighs.
"Look. Just talk to everyone - they might have seen other stuff, or have other information that could be useful. Going out into the forest half-cocked will just get you killed, like all the other Hunters..."
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JR drags out a book and writing implements, and based on the limited working space, kindly asks Emilio if he can use his back as an impromptu desk of sorts. Either way, the half elf starts taking notes on the situation and the leads and information that Galia provides.
"Please don't take this as an interrogation or anything Galia, we're just trying to get as much info as we can to solve this thing." He looks up from the book and smiles. He's got a reassuring smile, like a man that was raised in a loving home and knew the meaning of compassion.
"Some of these notes are for when we get back home. If we don't bring notes, maps and drawings of what we uncover then the bills don't get paid. Hunting herbs doesn't pay that well, at least not for me."
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Galia isn't especially reassured by Junior's words, but she is not mortally offended by them, either.
"Well, the only other unusual stuff that has happened recently, is that Mr. Albi’s daughter ran off with the traveling postman, and there
was a big fuss about Mr. Vernon’s rooster getting out to harass Mrs. Favam’s ducks. I don’t think any of that would have caused this, though. As for the other Hunters, most of them gave up after the first couple adventurers were found w-without any blood, but there’s been a whole bunch of new people lately! Two of them showed up some weeks ago, a brown-haired human dressed all in white, and this half-elf woman with beautiful silky black hair and gold armor over this amazing red dress! Neither of them talked to me, though—they just went into the woods and never came back. I think they spoke to some of the other townsfolk, though! And this week, another two visitors showed up! There’s this really professional looking human woman with a white dog, and this nervous human man staying at the inn who really needs a shave and a trim. M-maybe you can find them if you look around..."
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As the party leaves Galia's house, a shaggy dog with cream-white fur bolts down the street, scattering the clouds of mosquitoes hovering above the ground. A woman’s voice follows after the dog: "Peaches! Peachy! Get back here!" A Tian woman in simple traveling clothes sprints into view a few moments later, stopping to stand by the dog. "Sorry about that," the woman says, as the dog whines for attention. "I didn’t think there was anything out here but insects, or I would have kept a closer eye on him. My name’s Haru Kwon. What brings you to Shimmerford? It’s not exactly a popular destination right now."
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"Hoping to help deal with these hordes of angry bugs to be honest. Can we walk with you and talk? Standing around in this makes me feel like I'm going to catch something!"
He walks along, doing his best to avoid the dog, not really his style "Are you staying at the Inn? We're headed that way." He tries to be polite and give a good impression of the group.
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The woman nods.
"I am staying there, but I just left. My name is Haru Kwon. I’m a bit of a traveling scholar, though I have a lot of work to do to make a name for myself in that field. I’ve been traveling around the River Kingdoms, recording the local legends and customs. For obvious reasons, Shimmerford was high on my list to visit. I may have gotten more than I bargained for, though... Never mind. Safe travels!"
She then heads on out of town.
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The Whitefish and Stag is the tallest building in Shimmerford, and one of the few with a view over the town gates. All of the windows are shuttered, light provided by a few flickering lamps.
Inside, there are only two people - A middle-aged human male behind the bar, polishing a glass; and a haggard human with dark messy hair, stubble sparsely forming a goatee, and gaunt cheeks, sitting at a table near the entrance, turning a paper doll over and over in his hands, the sweat from his skin starting to cause the paper to melt into something horrific-looking.
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The barkeep nods.
"If you have the coin, I have the goods; our alcohol selection is running a bit light, though - the local brewer hasn't been able to get in supplies much, recently... As for the mosquitoes, what I know is that they have been bad for business; I reckon it must be the Mosquito Witch, come to punish us for turning her into a tourist attraction! You know, there are lots of stories around about her - some say that she is some kind of servant of Ghlaunder or was a hag that was somehow cursed by the verminous god. Other theories suggest that the witch is a disgraced spawn of the verminous demon lord Deskari, the deceased spirit of an unwanted child returned to punish the living, or a cannibalistic woman who drank the blood of her own family and eventually transformed into a monster! I don't know which to believe, myself..."
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JR frowns as the goblin takes the easy path and talks to the bartender Probably for the best, but ugh this other guy looks shot!
The half elven heads over to speak with the man with the doll, doing his best to not upset him. He makes sure he is seen as he approaches and speaks in as soothing a voice as possible.
"Hi there. I'm JR, mind if I have a seat?" Hopefully with permission he takes up a chair and tries to converse with the man.
"I see you've got one of those dolls, have a story you'd like to share?"
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The man looks up in terrified confusion as Junior speaks with him, before lapsing into resignation.
"An idiot. An absolute idiot..." The man laughs sadly to himself, before jerking himself upright. "Oh, wait, you’re... where are my manners? Sorry. Introductions. I’m Quintus. Quintus Chevunier.
I didn't want to be here; I am here because it wants me to be here. I shouldn’t have come... but no, that’s what it wanted me to do. It was trying to scare me, so I wouldn’t come... but what if it was being straightforward with me to trick me into thinking it was trying to trick me into staying away?" Quintus twists the doll in his hands. "It doesn’t matter... it always gets what it wants.
It’s in my nightmares. Go on, laugh!" Quintus snaps. "Laugh at the paranoid madman! Ever since I came too close to this damned town, I can’t get rid of it. It shows up and doesn’t say anything but when I wake up, I know things. Six and four dead on the Shimmerford road. But how? But why? Is the witch causing it? What does that have to do with the mosquitoes? And why is someone stealing shovels? I don’t even know how I know it... Maybe I’m supposed to cause it...?
I don’t know. I have to figure it out. It’s trying to make me do something and I have to make sure I don’t... ah gods, what if telling you was what it wanted? No, no, it couldn’t have known I would talk..."
He then goes back to fiddling with the doll.
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JR doesn't know exactly what to make of the mad man's ravings, but they gotta mean something... so he drags out his notebook and writes down the pertinent sounding ones.
"You know things? Seeing them in your sleep? They sound very helpful man. We're going to do what we can to help you ok?" He gives Quintus a reassuring pat on the back.
He spends a few minutes with the man before heading over to the barkeep and asking him if he know of any of those things Quintus spoke of. Locations and the like. "Quintus there been here long? Ever heard of the iron cave or where shovels may have been stolen from? Where's the Shimmerford Road at?"
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The man giggles, somewhat hysterically.
"Help me? There is no way to help me; not unless she wants it, and would I truly want it, in that case?"
The barkeep shrugs.
"Yeah, there is something not quite right with that one. Showed up a few days ago. Keeps to himself, but his coin is good."
He then frowns.
"Never heard of no 'iron cave', but I had heard that all the shovels in town had disappeared over the last week. Luca over at the smithy might know more. As for the Road, it is the one right outside town!"
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Moving on to the Smithy , the party finds a squat, functional building, which unlike most in town, is *not* thoroughly sealed up against insects - instead, great clouds of sweet-smelling smoke pour from every window, obviously from green boughs tossed into the forge fire.
Heading inside, the party finds the proprietress, a muscular red-haired woman, hard at work at her forge.
"Be with you in a moment."
After a few deft blows, and a quick dip into a nearby water-bucket, she sets a horse shoe, and, wiping her hands on a dirty rag, nods to the party.
"Right then - what can I do for you?"
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JR looks around, never being one that pursued the metal arts he did respect the profession. He steps forward and begins the conversation with an introduction "Hey there. I'm JR and we're here from the Pathfinder Society to help solve this bug problem of yours." He points to the clouds of smoke "Not that you haven't found a good work around, but maybe a more permanent solution can be found. We heard there's been a lot of shovels disappearing?"
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The woman nods.
"I'm Luca Braybon. Yeah, it's been weird - I initially thought it was just someone having a bit of a lark, but over the last week, all the shovels, picks, and hammers in town have gone missing. Between that, the mosquitoes, and that elf complaining about broken compasses, it's been rather strange..."
Luca nods to Cottar, and shrugs.
"Just green wood. Plenty of leaves. Nothing special. I mean, I know Tanner has been doing something similar with some of his vat-chemicals, to keep the bugs away."
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The party moves on to the tanner's place of work.
A vaguely unpleasant aroma, redolent of stale urine, rises from this plain building. Out the front is a painfully simply sign, which simply reads: 'The Tanner'.
Inside, the party finds that the front half of the building is covered with racks, from which hang a variety of leather goods. The back half is taken up with an open-plan production area. There, a man of Taldan descent with short-cropped hair, is stooped over a large vat, which he is slowly stirring. Without missing a beat, he looks up, and says:
"Yes? What can I do for you?"