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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."
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“The gesture is most appreciated, kind sir.” A tall elf with a dark complexion stoops down to partake in the refreshments. His face is visibly excited as he grabs a block of cheese, beginning to examine it with interest for several seconds before keying into the actual reason behind the assembly and awkwardly moving towards a side of the room to listen.
As the doll is mentioned, he quickly jams the block of cheese into a belt pouch and leans forward to better examine it before taking a step forward. The craftsmanship on this toy seems well-made... I wonder if Mr. Smine has any attachment to the trinket? I’ll have to ask him later if he’d be willing to part with it.
...oh, right, the briefing!
The elf snaps back to attention, and listens intently for the rest of the meeting. As Smine pauses for a spell, the elf wrings his hands quickly before asking, “You don’t believe that this... mosquito-witch was behind these events? Are occurrences such as this... rare around these parts?” The elf lets the question sit for a breath before quickly interjecting, “Oh, my apologies! I’m not exactly a local to this... territory? Country?” ahem Amada Caradulyn, pleasure. What I meant to ask earlier was, well... is there any particular reason behind your skepticism on the matter of this creature? Pardon the earlier phrasing, no offense was meant by the inquiry.” Amada clears his throat again before awaiting Smine’s response, taking a moment to glance around the room to examine the other assumed Pathfinders gathered there.
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Ravelgar makes his way over to the table, listening intently to the Venture Captain as he eyes the cider. His loose fitting clothes attempt to hide the sack of boulders in dwarven form. He reaches out and grabs the cider, giving it just a sniff as he puts it back on the table.
So some sort of myth has started to bare its fangs in reality has it? Sounds like some one is up to no good. When do we head out?
The dwarf grunts in reply, "Guess I haven't rightly told you my name yet either, and you look like beginners, so, just in case you just signed up to the society, welcome, I'm Venture-Captain Holgarin Smine; try not to die." he says before looking back at the doll, "Been fifty years since people spotted the witch. Plenty of time to do something like this. It hasn’t. Just sticks to the forest, scares people, gives omens. Doesn’t send things into the town. Maybe something riled it up. More likely it’s a Ghlaunder worshipper. Something similar, anyway. Probably heard stories about the witch. Took advantage of them to cause trouble."
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"A plague of mosquitos and bloodletters?" repeats a recently arrived halfling adorned in a finely-tailored ulster coat. "It sounds absolutely dreadful." Though his words may suggest some sympathy for the villagers so plagued, the man's tone gives no such hint. Instead, his speech is steady. His words clearly calculated.
Walking over to the table, the short man picks up a piece of cheese from the table, brings it towards his nose for a light sniff, then discards it upon an empty plate, untasted.
"Your theories regarding a devotee of Ghlaunder would seem sound, Venture-Captain. At least, at such an early stage in the investigation. However, as you have noted, other possibilities may exist. I can see why you've requested my presence." The agent turns to face toward the other recently assembled Pathfinders, but does not extend one of his gloved hands in greeting. He offers, instead, only a curt nod. "Hamir Crookfeather." he says, providing no other form of introduction.
Turning again to address Smine, Hamir inquires, "If tales of the Mosquito Witch have been circulating for decades, and the most current of this... unpleasantness... has been occurring for over a year's time, why is it only now that we are being asked to investigate?"
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Amada's mind drifted a bit as he watched his presumed traveling companions sniff the refreshments offered to them before returning them to the table. Perhaps I partook in the refreshments too hastily... Customs here are strange indeed. Either way, the damage is done, no use in awkwardly returning the cheese at this point.
"I suppose that explanation does make some sense. Ghlaunderites have a knack for stirring up trouble for the common folk." I'll have to remember to look up what a Ghlaunder is after this.
"Aaanyway, regarding the reappearance of this creature, perhaps it has some similarities to the lifecycle of the cicada? Its possible this may not be the same... mosquito-witch that was first encountered fifty years ago, but rather its offspring. If this is an undocumented creature, then this type of behavior could explain in part how it has remained hidden for so long."
"...As for the reason for the delayed assistance... perhaps word of mouth is rather slow in these parts? Either that, or... perhaps a lack of faith in the severity of the problem, due to the source? The Society does have a tendency to overlook lesser occurrences such as these when busy with other assignments, after all."
Amada's face visibly sours at the last sentence, before quickly regaining his composure. "Pardon, that was uncalled for. It's better the Captain explain the Society than it is for me to speculate." Amada turns to rummage through one of the aromatics with a vested interest, not caring if his effort to distance himself from the topic is obvious.
Holgarin Smine replies, "Full of questions ain't ya? Never been this big of a problem. Never hired to investigate. Just sightings by the locals, mostly harmless. No idea on how its still around and kicking, maybe you'll find out."
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"Full of questions ain't ya? Never been this big of a problem. Never hired to investigate. Just sightings by the locals, mostly harmless. No idea on how its still around and kicking, maybe you'll find out."
"Is not the old adage, 'To be forewarned is to be forearmed'?" asks Hamir. His voice, though high in pitch like many of his kin, lacks the underlying passion and warmth often found among halflings. "Stories and proverbs of the past often contain kernels of wisdom. One would be foolish to simply disregard them outright." If the intent of his sharp words were to get a rise out of the Venture-Captain, the expression on Hamir's face does not display it.
The halfling considers what he already knows of the tales and rumors surrounding the Mosquito Witch.
Having heard little of the creature previously, Hamir says to the dwarf."If you are saying that this Mosquito Witch was merely harmless up until now, then, I suppose, I'll have to take your word for it."
The halfling reaches into his coat and produces a briar root pipe. After placing one end into his mouth, he next produces a pouch of tobacco.
"Now, where is it said that this Mosquito Witch maintains a lair?" Hamir inquires as finishes giving his pipe a light. "Or is there someplace else where you'd suggest that we begin our investigation?"
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"I hope we do find it. I'd love to punch it right in beak ... or needle. What ever passes for a mouth on it." says the rock dwarf.
Looking around the room at his fellow agents, Ravelgar opens his arms wide in a welcoming gesture and says "My name is Ravelgar the Oakfist. Looking forward to working with ya all. When this is all dealt with you are all invited to share in some of me ale."
Ravelgar moves to the wall to pick up his weapons where he laid them down and turns his attention to Holgarin, "So Captain, how are we getting there and when do we leave?"
"I hired you a boat. Good ship. Good crew. They’ll take you down the river to Shimmerford tomorrow morning. I’d stay inside while traveling, though. Clouds of mosquitoes are hanging by the shore and above the water. Doesn’t sound pleasant. 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." Smine offers you use of his guest rooms and offers suggestions on where to purchase supplies for the expedition. He also gives you the wheat-stalk Mosquito Witch doll as both a reference and an irreverent good luck charm.
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”If no one objects, I’d be more than happy to hold onto that doll, Mr. Smine. I’ll be sure to find it a good home; after all, divorced from the history, this would work quite well as a children’s toy.” A brief smile from Amada punctuates the sentence. ”Rest assured that when this whole ordeal is over, whatever creature is causing this would have been better off staying a legend.”
Amada turns back to the refreshments, cautiously picking up a flagon of cider to sip. Turning back towards the rest of the group, he begins to address them each in turn. ”Ravelgar, was it? I’ll be sure to take you up on your offer once we’re through, but I must warn you, I have yet to meet a man who couldn’t easily outdrink me. That’s never stopped me from enjoying what little I can stomach, however.” A quick laugh before continuing. “Thomas, of the Well? A pleasure to make your acquaintance as a fellow follower of Old Deadeye. I look forward to seeing how the faith has developed firsthand. And as for... Hamir? Well, let’s just say I’ll look forward to working with you and... leeeave it at that.” Perhaps my first impressions of him are just... off. I’m sure I’ll learn to appreciate his demeanor more over the course of our travels.
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At Hamir's comment, Ravelgar goes a deep red in the face. "Darn double entendre, I meant these!" he says as he slaps his biceps. "You might have a stoic presence but I sense the adventuring heart of a halfling burning in ya. Glad to be in the company of one."
Ravelgar turns to face Amada. "You won't be alone my friend! It's a strength knowing your weaknesses. As they say, a fish can't whistle and neither can I."
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Seeker enters the room flustered and in a rush, his cloak still dirty from the road. "My apologies for my dishevelled appearance. I only just rode in." He looks around and notices that the briefing looks too be complete. "It looks like I have missed the briefing. Again, I apologize. I will get caught up as we go. My name is Lost Child Seeker, but you may call me Seeker. It can be quite a mouthful otherwise."
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"An interesting name. Surely there is a story there. One that will help pass the time on the road." Thomas nods to the new arrival. He slips his arms into his backpack, and lifts it to his shoulders. The straps outline his chest, with the strap holding 3 knives across it riding from one shoulder to the other hip. His belt is belabored with pouches of various types. "I'm ready to go. Did anyone need to stop for anything before we head out?"
"Eh, I'm sure your friends'll fill you in on the way. Head over to the docks when yer ready. Tell them Holgarin sent you." The Venture-captain replies before returning to his smithy work.
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Hamir's implications go right past Amada, who instead addresses Seeker directly. "Well met, Seeker. I can tell by your bearing that we may have much in common. I can catch you up on the briefing easily enough; we're going hunting! A local town seems to be having a bit of a pest problem, so we're going in to find the source of it. Should be straightforward enough with our group. Just keep an eye out for anything matching this description and we'll have this whole affair dealt with sure enough." Amada pulls out the doll long enough for Seeker to have a good look at it before stashing it in his scarf/belt pouch for safe keeping. "Either way, I look forward to swapping stories with you on the journey up."
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Seeker greets his new companions. "I do have a quick purchase that I would like to make, but I have my horse outside, so I could meet you at the docks." He then grabs a quick bite from the arrayed food and follows his companions outside. "And I can definitely tell you the story of my name, every name should have a story."
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Thomas nods at the others, but focuses on the halfling. "Perhaps, but in my experience, children go missing, or get lost, all the time. Granted, most of the time, it is simply them playing, and getting lost, easy enough to find. But the world is not always a nice place. So, better to have one that will find them, and bring them back, then that they might stay 'lost', forever."
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Shimmerford is a forested town located near the East Sellen River’s first fork, just east of Riverton. 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.
You spot another one of the dolls on the river bank. It silently watches your boat pass by. When you look at Ravelgar the Oakfist, you notice a symbol identical to the witch doll on the back of his clothes.
While on the boat, you look over to the shoreline to see the swarms of mosquitoes devouring an entire rabbit, draining it dry it a matter of minutes. When you look at Ravelgar the Oakfist, you notice a symbol identical to the witch doll on the back of his clothes.
While reading your spellbook along the way to Shimmerford, you hear a rustle of wind that causes you to look up. On the deck of the boat are nearly fifty witch dolls, all surrounding and staring at you. When you look at Ravelgar the Oakfist, you notice a symbol identical to the witch doll on the back of his clothes.
You place the doll in your pouch and board the boat. Along the way, you subconsciously check the pouch for the doll, but realize its empty. When you turn around to tell anyone or look for it, you notice the doll laying face down on the boat, as though it had simply fell out of your pouch. When you look at Ravelgar the Oakfist, you notice a symbol identical to the witch doll on the back of his clothes.
Your boat trip is mostly uneventful, but your fellow pathfinders seem to be acting a little strange. Maybe a little jumpy, seeing things that aren't there. You notice that they keep staring at you as well.
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Amada sighs audibly, assured that nothing seems to be particularly amiss. I'll have to check the button on that pouch later, can't have it always coming loose on me like that. Putting the doll back into the pouch, Amada briefly inspects the pouch for any apparent defects, closes it up, makes sure this time that the button catches, and walks to back to the others to address Oakfist.
Amada casually strolls up behind Oakfist and pats him on the back. "Hail, Oakfist! You hadn't told us you'd visited this town in the past! The scenery around here is quite the sight to see, I'd say! How were the townsfolk? Sociable enough, I'd hope?"
Perception +5
11/11 HP
AC 16
Fort 4 | Ref 6 | Will 5
Fly 60', walk 10'
Low Light Vision
Attacks: Beak+6, 1d6+2 P; Talon+2(MultiPen), 1d4+2 S
Acrobatics+6
Athletics+5
Stealth+6
The bird resting on Amada's shoulder rotates its head fully around to stare back at Thomas, seemingly more curious than anything else. After an uncomfortably long time, the bird begins preening its feathers.
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"What gives you the impression I've been here before Amada? You all be looking at me strangely on this boat ride. Is there something on me face?" Ravelgar ask, seeming quite puzzled. He gives a quick look around the boat.
"I hope you all come to your senses before we get to town. They are spooked enough as is without a buncha weirdoes coming to they aid."
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On closer inspection of Ravelgar, you realize his clothes simply cast a strange shadow in the strange light cast by the sun through the canopy of trees and clouds of mosquitoes.
And the mosquitoes, you can't escape them. You find yourself constantly harassed by at least one if you're lucky, but frequently more if you're not.
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Amada seems visibly confused by the question. ”Well, I had seen your clothes and figured you must have visited the town before. After all, I can’t think of any other reason why your clothes would have had such a mar-“ Amada stops short midsentence as he notices the mark’s disappeared. ”...Huh. My apologies, Ravelgar. Perhaps I’m still a bit cider-drunk for the briefing yesterday.” That or the mosquitos are getting to me... I’ll have to see if there’s anything I can do about that once I get to shore.
Sighing a bit, Amada grabs his scarf and wraps it tightly around his head, covering his nose, mouth and ears from probing mosquitoes. After a bit of consideration, Amada chuckles.”You know, Ravelgar, if the locals would be afraid of a bunch of weirdos entering their town, perhaps coming in looking like bandits would put them at ease?”
The bird on his shoulder pecks Amada’s skull, agitated by the amount of motion her perch is creating. ”Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best joke.” Amada smirks from under his scarf regardless.
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Amada seems visibly confused by the question. ”Well, I had seen your clothes and figured you must have visited the town before. After all, I can’t think of any other reason why your clothes would have had such a mar-“ Amada stops short midsentence as he notices the mark’s disappeared. ”...Huh. My apologies, Ravelgar. Perhaps I’m still a bit cider-drunk for the briefing yesterday.” That or the mosquitos are getting to me... I’ll have to see if there’s anything I can do about that once I get to shore.
"If you were referring to the fact that the pattern on the back of the clothes of our dwarven friend resembled the witch doll..." notes Hamir. "I, too, thought that I had seen such. Though it appears that it was no more than a trick of shadow and light."
The halfling waves a hand to swat away a few of the mosquitos. "I had also thought that I had seen another one of the dolls on the river bank as our boat passed by. I find this series of apparent coincidences to be rather...unsettling...indeed."
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Seeker takes stock of the situation as they come into sight of the village. The sheer number of mosquitoes has to be unnatural. I have never seen this many in one place before. He thinks to himself. "I too thought I saw the symbol on your back, my sir dwarf. Must have been a trick of the light though, because it is not there." He pauses for a moment to take a deep breath and continues. "What troubles me the most are the mosquitoes. This can't be a natural happening. I saw the pests strike a rabbit and drain it completely in a matter of moments...We should be cautious."
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"Didn't see anything on your back, but saw dolls. Lots of the little boogers. All over. Then they were gone." He looks right and left, then shakes his head.
When they reach shore, Thomas joins Amada in the search, though he focuses more on the plants, looking for something to make a salve of some sort from.
You eventually arrive to 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. When you disembark from your boat, 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. When she sees you, 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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Amada hesitates briefly and considers asking the gnome for a moment to look for herbs, but thinks better of it after assuming there will be time for that later. He discretely turns as if to look around, but in actuality checks his belt pouch for the doll out of eyesight from the gnome ( ) before turning back to address her.
"Why yes, we would be the Pathfinders, although since Wayfinders aren't given out freely you'll sadly have to take our word for it," Amada announced, voice noticeably muffled by his scarf. "I'll also support that talking inside isn't a bad idea, what with these pests. I had heard of such creatures existing on this world, but had no idea they flocked in such quantity. As for your..." Amada pauses to quickly wrack his brain, trying to remember the term she used.( ) "... beaten juice, that sounds quite interesting. I'm always eager to try new things, so I'll gladly take you up on that offer. Speaking of mostly-mosquito free, you wouldn't happen to know of any herbs or tonics we could use to lessen this plague, perchance?"
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Amada easily makes a basic torch designed to emit smoke. The mosquitoes don't appear to care overly much about it, but they avoid coming too close nevertheless.
You spot a lone witch doll sitting upon a tree stump, its many arms pointed up at the sky. The swarms of mosquitoes make a visible sphere around it as the avoid coming too close.
Lost Child Seeker knows that, while the mosquitoes and their actions are essentially normal, the quantity is not. Its unlikely that this area could support such vast quantities so apparently easily. In addition, there doesn't seem to be much threat to them by natural predators, in fact, you watch a swarm drain a couple frogs over time.
Galai shows you into her hut, she hands a beet juice to Amada. He looks into the dark colored liquid and, for a moment, he swears he sees another doll, but as it fully comes to the surface, he can easily tell its another actual mosquito, "Yeah, sorry. Mostly mosquito free! As for avoiding them...no, I haven't heard anything that works, or I'd be using it. Some townsfolk say that covering yourself in holy water makes them not want to bite you."