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A Pathfinder Society Scenario designed for levels 1–4 (Subtiers 1–2 and 3–4).
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?
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The goblin in the party doesn't speak too much, and the look in his eyes might make some think that he's not entirely there. His skin is covered in various pock-marks and scars, and teeth in his ever-present grin are jagged and unkempt. The same can be said of his clothing. The hides that make up his armor are patchwork, at best. There is a gnarled shaft of thick wood, possibly and old tree root, strapped to his back. When asked for his name, he simply replies with "Toadlicker." He walks along the road with the others, hunched over almost as if he were planning to run on all fours.
The only other notable reactions are at the mention of this 'Mosquito Witch' that they are looking for, to which he responds by licking his lips noisily.
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Arra's dark eyes stare out from under the black hooded cloak that hides her black hair, seeming to observe everything around her. Unlike many gnomes, she doesn't have the typical lighthearted expression, but rather seems to stare intensely, a furrowed look on her brow that's hard to tell whether it's a look of confusion or a scowl.
A small, winged black lizard -- named Branthlend -- sits on her shoulder, one paw perched on Arra's head. It hisses slightly if others get too close too quickly, though otherwise seems content to keep to itself and to the gnome.
Again, unlike many gnomes, she doesn't chat or offer flighty observations, but rather speaks seriously and somberly. It's not a lack of friendliness, but rather seems to be a lack of interest in idle chatter, as if that's not worth her effort.
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This middle-aged Varisian man moves from shadow to shadow, padding along quietly with a practiced ease. There's nary a creak to the leather armor he wears, suggesting that he learned what moments make noise. When he does make a sound, it's intentional.
Zandu isn't the sort of man to volunteer information. When he speaks, it makes you think of oil somehow. You get a feeling that he's probably lied to authority more times than most people. "The name's Zandu. And if you trying to figure out what I'm here for, let's just say I'm your man with a... certain set of skills. If you need a label, think of me as a scout. Or a trap spotter. Or as a guy who knows a guy that can do a thing that needs done."
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Striding in the front of the group watching warily from side to side is a Dwarf, well armed and well armored. His Hammer with a sigil on the side of Clan Gravendak, a hammer and pick crossed with sotnes in a pyramid behind them. was on the sides of his hammer.
He grunted at Zandu and glanced at The Goblin. He'd already learned that not all his ancient enemies walked the path that put them outside the civilized nations. Names Dorian. I am wat ye see. his strength evident as he sliced the hammer through the air once.
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The half-elf Autumn idly cleans her flute as she travels with the party. She tries to maintain a cheerful smile, though it's clear the general uneasiness of their mission is causing her to falter.
"Autumn Savella," she introduces herself with hesitation. "Bard of Nethys. So, ah-" Autumn lets out a quick, nervous laugh. "Anyone think there's really a mosquito witch?"
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Names Dorian. I am wat ye see. his strength evident as he sliced the hammer through the air once.
"I see ugly dwarf," replies Toadlicker, matter-of-factly. He nods as Dorian swings his weapon through the air. "Seems strong, though not strong as Toadlicker. Weapon not real strength."
"Autumn Savella," she introduces herself with hesitation. "Bard of Nethys. So, ah-" Autumn lets out a quick, nervous laugh. "Anyone think there's really a mosquito witch?"
Licking his lips with a disproportionately long tongue, Toadlicker answers, "Hope so. Mosquitoes are yummy."
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Ha! Right ye are Toadlicker. Right Ye are!. Howd ye get that name?
The hunched goblin shrugs "Was champion of Licktoad tribe. Thought that clan name was best way to get strong. And it did." To illustrate his story, he reached into a pouch and pulled out what looked like frog with an orange stripe down it's back, which he proceeded to lick diligently.
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Dorian looked oddly at the Goblin licking the Toad. and then shook his head...As I said. Ive seen stranger things.. He smiled then and said Well Toadlicker we be a fine pair. A Hammer and a Toad Licker.. Ill be protectin yur sacred toad fur ye
Toadlicker gives the dwarf a queer look. "Toad not sacred. Toad yummy. Taste like chicken."
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"There are strange things out there," Arra intones, "hidden in the recesses of the world. They watch and listen, and woe to those who underestimate their power."
Zandu gives Arra a curious look. "You aren't wrong. I was once inhabited by a forest spirit in Tian Xia. It was... a weird experience. Can't say I've been the same since. So is there a mosquito witch? I think there's even odds. But I'm not a betting man. Just keep an eye out."
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"Guess I've seen some strange things myself," Autumn acquiesces, shrugging uncertainly. "But someone called the 'Mosquito Witch' just seems... exaggerated, almost. Although I suppose everyone in Shimmerford thought the same way," she adds, grimacing.
"Keep an eye out, as you say," she nods to Zandu.
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You begin this adventure in the gladiator city of Tymon, at Smine’s Weaponworks, famed smithy and clandestine Pathfinder lodge run by the
friendly dwarven Venture- Captain Holgarin Smine.
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 pprentices, 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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To Zandu he says, “Looks like this.” Smine wiggles 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.”
To Dorian, he says, “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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Toadlicker sat at the table with his feet up on the chair, causing him to look like one of the frogs he was talking about before.
He attention is grabbed by the funny-looking doll, a little drool escaping the corner of his mouth. "Big bug. Might be tasty. Toadlicker will find bug. In time for dinner."
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"Yup. Just says they are havin' a problem. Nothing of note there." he says. He shares the letter, and it is as he says.
"Shimmerford's a small town. Never been there myself. 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."
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Arra picks up the doll and looks carefully at it.
"This isn't something people make just to steal a coin, not if they're smart," she pronounces. "Legends have power, and I would bet this one has some power as well."
She turns her attention to Smine. "You said livestock have been killed. Have any people died? And this festival? When is it? What more can you tell us about it?"
Her eyes bear down on him as she asks, staring as if they were trying to look into the dwarf's soul.
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"Any more questions? No? If not, best be gettin' on." asks Smine.
You recall the following:
This Mosquito Witch was originally spotted almost 60 years ago in a forested location now known as Witchtop Hill. Most of the witnesses were teenagers.
You also know that Shimmerford’s Mosquito Witch-based dolls, which they sell to tourists, come from a legend that the witch herself is obsessed with little dolls. The tourist dolls are usually made of wheat stalks, but the witch herself supposedly prefers
intricate paper dolls.
You don't recall anything else
You don't recall anything else
You don't recall anything else
You don't recall anything about the mosquito witch
You recall the following:
This Mosquito Witch was originally spotted almost 60 years ago in a forested location now known as Witchtop Hill. Most of the witnesses were teenagers.
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Arra nods, ready to move on if the others are, and glancing to see if she can take Smine's doll.
As they make their way to Shimmerford, she notes, This Mosquito Witch was originally spotted almost 60 years ago in a forested location now known as Witchtop Hill. Most of the witnesses were teenagers, but that doesn't mean their perspectives should be discounted. Take it from me, hill and mountaintops can be a focus for occult forces."
"As for these dolls, I remember a legend that the witch herself is obsessed with little dolls. The tourist dolls are usually made of wheat stalks, but the witch herself supposedly prefers intricate paper dolls."
If she can, she'll try to make a doll on the way, though clearly it's not something she's accustomed to doing.
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Zandu nods along to Arra as she mentions Witchtop Hill. At the mention of vermin repellent, Zandu says, "Not that I'm aware of. Though I suspect there'll be some new merchant shops selling new wares. I say 'new', but it'll mostly be stuff we used to be able to procure but mysteriously went out of stock. Still, it's bugs. How bad could it be?"
Zandu steps back, a sign that he's ready to leave. "I think we should start with Galia in Shimmerford, and then plan to be making a trip to Witchtop Hill. Agreed?"
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"I'm hardly afraid of walking, but sure a journey warrants a faster ride." Grisaia agrees with an easy smile. "A pity they won't accept us singing for passage."
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Traveling to Tymon, Grisaia was pleasant company despite her rough exterior. Scale and glaive marked her martial training, but the songs composed to pass the time on the road went hand in hand with her softer demeanor. The flash of rainbow around her amulet complimented the highlights in her dark hair as a devotee of the Eternal Rose.
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Once you have our their questions, Smine offers you the 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.
"Just so you know, I don't think it is the witch. 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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The strange goblin hangs around in the alley way just outside the store where the others are shopping, seemingly hunting for rats.
At the beginning of each adventure, the agent receives a consumable item of half their level or lower from Table XX: All Schools; at 1st level, the character does not receive any such consumable items.