GM Blake's PFS(2) 1-02: The Mosquito Witch (Inactive)

Game Master Blake's Tiger

The Society has summoned you to the River Kingdoms to assist in the investigation of a local plague afflicting a regionally famous town called Shimmerford. Your instructions have directed you to the city state of Tymon, known for its gladiatorial colleges and arena. There, Smine's Weaponworks serves as the Pathfinder lodge.

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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.”

You may attempt a Secret Occultism Check to recall something about the local legend of the Mosquito Witch, if you desire. Please review the Player Game Instructions on how to post your semi-secret Secret Checks.

"Any reason, dear Venture-Captain, as to why you don't think the witch is causing this problem?"

"I can look, yes?" Lleylo reaches out to the doll and turns it around to study it from all sides. He then brings the doll close to his face, closes his beady eyes and takes a deep sniff, to see if the smell brings back any memories about the witch.

Aspero takes in the sights and sounds of the forge as the group is led to the Captain. He listens to the exposition as he begins helping himself to the food and drink laid out.

"A six-armed witch hiding in the swamps? Sounds like the Dwarfgobbler my Gammer tried to scare us with as tots." Aspero pokes at the doll, "Gammer didn't scare me then, this doesn't scare me now... More likely something stirred up your local predators."

Not rolling occultism.

'Squitoes? Maybe I should get some rep... rep... bug keep away stuff. I hates being itchy.

There is not insect repellent in the CRB. I have farming lore, could I conceivably know of a natural way to repel them or is that a stretch?

Medium Dave: You may or may not get the information you're hoping for, but you may roll Farming Lore. You will get something on a success.

Smine arches an eyebrow, wrinkling his ash-stained forehead before answering Bladden's question. "Don't believe the stories. Simple explanations are best. Maybe I'm wrong. Doubt it."

He snorts at Dave's comment. "Sorry."

Dave scratches his chin, deep in thought.

Hearing the story, Hamlet looks over to his cat, Horatio. Horatio tilts his head in curiosity. Hamlet whispers lowly to Horatio, "Not now, kitten. That doll isn't for playing. It's filth from a witch."

Stepping forward, "What's this now about a witch? I knew a guy who was led quite astray by three of them. Nasty business. What can you tell us about this witch? Is this a real witch or just a name of big mosquito's which aren't actually a witch but just make you itch?"

Horatio sniffs the doll. Hamlet peers at it as well.

Aspero wipes crumbs from his beard and gulps down a mug of cider, "I seem to recall a story about this 'skeeter witch... Some 60 years or so ago it was seen by a group of children. They still around? That'd be old but alive for humans right?" Aspero looks contemplative trying to figure out relative lifespans across ancestries.

Opening my spoiler for all.

"Crafted by a local artisan. Painstakingly. The doll," Smine corrects Hamlet. “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.

“Supposed to look like that.” Smine points at the wheat-stalk doll. “Missing the wings, though folks disagree about that piece. People claimed to see it a while back. Some claim they saw it more recently. No one’s proved it. No one’s caught it. No one’s sure what it is. Would be exciting if we found out.” Smine smiles wryly. “Don’t expect us to.”

Hamlet tries to recall his studies in religion - of anything special or significant about "Ghlaunder" and this Mosquito Witch.

He then turns to Smine. "Where might we find these people who claimed to have recently seen the witch? Or better yet, did you say where they saw the witch? Otherwise, I say we head to the forest to poke around. I do miss the forest. Perfect green forests. Just perfect..."

Hamlet starts to look off as if into a distance, seeing a forest of yesterday. He is joined by Horatio who also tilts his head in the same fashion, mirroring Hamlet's countenance.

Horatio: purrrr.... puurrrrr....

Kale leans against the wall, his greatsword acting as a barrier between himself and the wood. He listens intently to everyone as they inspect the creepy little wheat stalk doll. "I hate mosquitoes. Nasty little blood suckers tend to spread equally nasty diseases. What is worse is the buzzing though." He turns to face the Venture Captain. "When do we head out? I'd like to pick up some cloth to jam into my ears to nullify some of the noise. I can only imagine the migraines I'll get listening to a town over run with the creatures."

"Splendid idea Master Queensworn! lead the way good Sir, and I shall indulge in similar expenses if you would have me alongside, of course."

"Yes, let's go! Witch could have new recipes for potions, yes!" Lleylo jumps up and down excitedly.

"Be a bit of a hike," the Venture-Captain says to Hamlet. “I 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.”

With a nod Dave accepts the fate or clouds of mosquitoes. Yeah, lets go.

Eager to begin the adventure, Hamlet turns to Horatio for a high-five. "Yeah, let's do this!"

After such cuteness, Hamlet turns to the others in the party with his hand up for a fiver. When no one immediately complies, Hamlet high-fives himself. Some might perceive this as simply, but awkwardly, clapping.

Hamlet: "To the boat!"

Aspero grunts, "Any recommendations or local homebrews to help keep the pests away?"

After any last minute preparations, Aspero makes for the docks.

Going to double check my gear list. Can we make purchases, and any common items that aren't readily available here?

"Be a pleasure to have some company Master Pennyworth. If anyone else cares to join us, feel free to come along. Other wise I'll see you on the barge to our destination." says Kale, happy to have some company to the market. On the way he thinks to himself Quite the broad spectrum of personalities. Glad to see my fellow Pathfinders are as lively as ever.

Yes. You may make available purchases before setting out.

The river barge hired by Venture-Captain Smine is a shallow-bottomed vessel with a central cabin. It is crewed by a handful of wiry sailors with tanned, leathery skin from their many days in the sun. The captain gives you a stoic nod as you arrive. "Best stay inside the cabin where we're going, though the mosquitoes'll eat you soon enough if you're spending much time out of doors," he says. You note a few red welts here and there on his bare arms.

The cabin interior is low, forcing you to hunch down, and spartan, but there are benches affixed to the sides of the walls and net hammocks hung between the beams.

Hamlet and Horatio enter the central cabin. They look around for anything of interest.

"So does anyone know of any ghost stories?

"Hey, Captain. How long is this trip going to be anyway?

Dave hunches as he moves through the cabin to one of the benches. He sits. He does not speak and tries not to listen to anyone who may be talking about ghosts.

"It'll take a couple of days," the captain says. "First part's easy. We're going with the current for the first stretch down the West Sellen River, but then we're against the current the rest of the way up the West Sellen, stopping in Riverton for a breather, and then just up the East Sellen to the first fork."

As the barge sets out, the riverbanks pass quickly. The sailors only need to pole occasionally to avoid an unexpected obstacle like a large fallen branch or discarded barrel. The rest of the work is carried out by the river's current.

There are a few lock-less foot lockers nailed to the floor to stow your gear and barrels of dried foods lashed to one corner of the cabin.

Lleylo, perpetually peckish, roots around in the food barrel to see if there's anything that a goblin would like to gnaw on.

"Ghost stories? Yes, me love ghost stories! Anyone know any good ones?"

"Once I was haunted by a ghost..." Hamlet looks around for listeners.

Hamlet changes his voice to be the most spookified ghost voice you have ever heard.

"The ghost... was MY FATHER!"

Hamlet waits for responses. "I then lit a torch and realized it really was my father, but he wasn't a ghost. He just always looks like that. That was right before I left for this adventure. We said our goodbyes, and my dad said he was feeling nappish. He said right after I left he was going to go in the garden for a nice snooze. Geez... I really miss my ol' dad."

Hamlet looks at the goblin. "Find anything good in there?"

"Hey! You eat now, you don't eat later," a sailor passing by the door shouts at the goblin. "Bloody goblins are everywhere," he mutters as he continues on to the barge's bow.

The barrels contain strips of salted fish, dried (and likely salted) vegetables, and hard tack. The bare minimum of nutrition.

Once the barge reaches the main vein of the West Sellen River, the sailors become stoic automatons poling the barge against the current. They anchor off the northern shore once for lunch and once more for dinner and to sleep for the evening. The second day takes you onto the lake that stands at the beginning of the West Sellen and end of the East Sellen. Poling around the southern shoreline, you reach Riverton where the sailors stop to rest, resupply, and eat a lunch that is not comprised primarily of salt. Riverton is your last chance to purchase supplies before reaching Shimmerford at dusk.

Dave eats sparingly from the supplied rations. On the farm we don't have much so we don't eat much. he says as he chews some salt-fish.

Bladden buys some fresh food- apples, dried plums and a head of cauliflower. He splurges for a 5-inch wide wheel of cheese and some fresh bread too. "I already have rations, but this beautiful face won't maintain itself with some dried stuff!" He looks for mosquito repellent as well.

"If there's mosquito repellent or something close, netting, or swatters - I think we should stock up."

Hamlet and Horatio search the market place for such items and those similar.

"Lleylo don't need mosquito repellent. Lleylo very used to them, yes!"

Hailing from the Mushfens in Varisia, Lleylo has indeed seen his fair share of mosquitoes and other swamp pests.

"I guess we will need to see how bad it is once we get there. I don't expect to find anything more than what was in Tymon but it is certainly worth the search." says Kale as he goes to accompany Hamlet.

Aspero makes his way through the shops heading to the docks, picking up some odds and ends.

Settling in below deck, Aspero gnaws on the rations provided. "Isn't the worst thing I've had to eat."

As the sailors move about Aspero tries to strike up conversation, "So, what can we expect on the river and in the swamp? There must be more than mosquitos and bloodsuckers."

Search as you might, you find nothing but a plethora of individuals willing to sell you their grandmother's home recipe for repelling mosquitoes--ranging from rubbing onions on your skin to eating garlic to bathing in a mud made with river silt, cloves, and pickle juice--all for ridiculously exorbitant prices. It seems some quirk of the universe has caused alchemists across the world to forget how to make a reliable vermin repellent.

You return to the barge after having dined on more palatable fare or searched in vain for a way to protect yourselves from the mosquitoes. The sailors push off and return to their monotonous, dead-eyed poling. The barge moves north of Riverton and then onto the East Sellen River. Once on the East Sellen, you begin to appreciate clouds of flying insects here and there along the banks. A mosquito or two land on you every few minutes that you spend outside the cabin.

"Gnats," answers one sailor to Aspero.

"River pirates," adds an older sailor.

"Oh, yeah, pirates," a third says. "Sometimes a snake might bite you."

The further east you go along the river, the denser the clouds of mosquitoes become. "Inside you go, if you don't want to be eaten alive," the captain says. The sailors close the shutters on the windows, tamp the seams with spare cloth, and then toss buckets of water over them.

Anyone who remains outside the cabin for more than a moment regularly finds mosquitoes on their exposed skin. None of you are spared from the itchy, red whelps that form no matter how well you hide yourself in the cabin. The mosquitoes find a way. As the sun begins to descent, the clouds of mosquitoes become thick as blankets. Writhing masses of black insects cover the banks of the river, sending swarms of the biting insects into the air as the wake of the barge disturbs their shore.

You arrive at Shimmerford without incident and find it to be not the festive town it was known as but one that looks abandoned. The streets are empty. Clusters of mosquitoes hover over every puddle. The only soul is a blue-haired gnome scurrying down the docks to meet you.

“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!” the gnome rattles, wringing her hands and swatting reflexively at any mosquitoes that land on her.

Dave makes a dash for the inside of the house. Once there he takes a mug of beet juice and sips it appreciatively. Help, yeah.

Aspero watches in mild amazement at the quantity and quality of the town's mosquitoes.

He ambles after Dave, "Aye, Smine sent us. Do you have anything strong to drink, to help forget the itching?" He makes a show of squashing a mosquito. He wipes any bug-gore onto his leggings and extends the hand to the gnome as he passes, "Aspero, slayer of beasts and bugs at your service." He grins broadly. He looks across the town as he waits for the gnome to respond and before stepping into the house, "Where's the rest of the town? Fled or hiding?"

Kale stares at the gnome woman, trying to read her lips. Seeing Medium Dave rush off he grasp at the cloth jammed into his ears and pulls them out. "Sorry, could you repeat that? I'll put up with the head ache later if it means solving this sooner because I can actually hear our contact."

Kale gives a slight bow to the gnome woman and says "Kalester Queensworn at your service. Captain Smine sent us. How can we help and where is the best place to start our investigation into the mosquito witch?"

When he sees the thick clouds of mosquitoes, Lleylo gulps involuntarily.

"Very different than Mushfens..." he whispers under his breath, so soft that almost nobody hears it. He absent-mindedly scratches at his welts.

Hamlet and Horatio follow the group into the building. Hamlet takes a mug of beet juice, sharing it with Horatio who laps it up without hesitation. Hamlet thinks, Yep, no poison could be in a cup, ever. Every drink is safe. That's what mother always says.

"Right you are, lady gnome. We are adventurers sent here to help with you that buggering witch which is rather bugging you all, at which point we were sent to stomp the insect out. Hamlet of Elsinore at your service."

Hamlet bows. The cat nudges him.

"And of course, my companion, Horatio."

Horatio makes a super cute cat bow. It's adorable.

"What's the news on this witch? Where was she last seen? Which direction? Forward we go! Once more into the breach, dear friends!"

Mosquitoes begin to alight upon you as soon as you exit the cabin. Dave discards decorum and sprints for the indicated home, which has cloth and wax crammed into every crevice and seam. The rest of you have a dozen blood drinking vermin on you after mere moments.

"Yes, this way," the gnome says, taking Aspero's hand for the briefest amount of time allowed by courtesy and then turns toward the town. "Galia's my name. We'll talk more inside."

She ushers you swiftly down the docks and into her home. The house is small, short--forcing most of you to hunch down--and dark due to the cloth tarred over the windows and every other opening being stuffed with something. The benefit is that it is mostly free of mosquitoes inside save those riding in on you, hidden in the folds of your clothes or in your hair. "Most of the town's given up and fled. We thought that we had made an end of it when the townsfolk caught that Ghlaunderite and executed him, but the plague hasn't stopped. It's not just mosquitoes either. There are bloodseekers. More and more each day. One of them carried off Mrs. McClairby's cat. Once Mr. Rujat's entire heard of prize cattle was killed, most of the town left in whichever direction they thought would get them away fastest."

She wrings her hands several times before distracting herself with serving you cups and pouring beet juice as refreshment. “No one knows anything for sure about the Mosquito Witch! It’s a thing that shows up outside of town sometimes, b-but I’ve never heard of it causing this much harm! I even think the little dolls people make of it are k-kind of cute. We used to throw a festival every year for it. Anna always made the best witchbread for the festival…”

She shakes her head and swallows hard. "I'm not certain where to start. The fanatic was the best lead the town ever had for these troubles. The only one left in town who claims to have ever seen the Witch is Ms. Lyons. Mordha Lyons."

Where is her house? I think we should visit her once we are done here.

Horatio gulps when he hears that a cat was taken by "bloodseekers." Hamlet pets, Horatio, soothing him.

"What's that about 'bloodseekers'? Is that a fancy mosquito?

I like lions. So I suggest we start with lions."

"What is a Ghlaunderite? I'm assuming a cultist of some kind but just to be sure." says Kale. After listening for a moment to what the other members of group think he then asks, "Is there anyone else in town beside us trying to solve this?"

Aspero stares somewhat dejectedly at the mug of juice, mumbling about beard stains.

"What do you mean fanatic, religious or just really into this witch-stuff?" Pausing briefly, "Executed? Ghlauderite? Is that part of some festival?" With a wink to Horatio, "Bloodsuckers? I don't think you're quite plump enough to pull their interest," and pokes his own paunch. As he half-listens to answers from his and others' questions he begins to make a game of squishing mosquitos that have managed to get inside.

"You can find Ms. Lyon's house basically due north of my house," Galia answers Dave. "She actually saw the Mosquito Witch, back in the day! One of the first! She doesn’t much like strangers, though. I don’t think she much likes a-anyone, truth to be told.

"Oh! You haven't heard of Ghlaunder?" the gnome asks. "The enemy of Desna? The King of Parasites? Um. So there was a Ghlaunder cultist who we found 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.”

She looks to Hamlet, answering, "Some people call them stirges. Sort of like really big mosquitoes. Oh! Witchbread. Marmazine makes the best witchbread! She's still in town. Nobody left to buy her pastries, though." The blue-haired gnome shakes her head. “You’re not the only people that have come here looking for the witch. Most of the monster hunters 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.”

Galia gives you a brief, verbal orientation to the own and the few people remaining. (Maps updated)

Having had his fair share of prejudice as a goblin, Lleylo's blood starts to boil when he hears about the Glaunderite being executed.

He quickly realises their host wasn't personally responsible though, so he starts to calm down.

"Fanatic? You mean mean Ms Lyons or someone else?"

Suggest we go to Lyon's House (A4) and the inn (A6) in that order; I'm also curious about the shrine of Hanspur from a pure out-of-character perspective, if we have time later

Bladden nods while listening to the gnome, and strikes up a tobacco-stuffed pipe. After a few satisfactory puffs, he says, "Thank you for all this information, Galia. First, let me say how clever these anti-mosquito improvements of yours are! this here is a true island of peace! well done in making your house such a haven!"

Diplomacy, Make an Impression: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21

"Now, it appears, for the moment, that it would be a waste of time trying to investigate what seems to be a premeditated murder upon an innocent victim, as the perpetrators no doubt left town already yes?"

Bladden waits for Galia's response before continuing, eyeing her facial expression carefully.

"Thank you for the leads Galia. Was the cultist's house here in the village, or outside somewhwere? did those who did the burning and salting recover some possessions off the body before burning it? who was in charge of these... sigh... funerals?"

"What? Ms. Lyons?" Galia laughs for a brief moment. "She's a little old lady. Just grumpy. I mean the Ghlaunderite. I mean, it was terrible how they dealt with him, but he was a servant of a demon-god."

Sorry I think we posted at the same time; Bladden added a few additional questions one post before yours; thanks!