GM Chadius [PFS2 1-02]: The Mosquito Witch - Table 1 (Inactive)

Game Master chadius

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.

Feel free to dot and introduce yourself.

A short and thin woman with dark brown skin and tightly braided pale hair enter the shop. She wears worn leathers and boots that show recent signs of repair. She carries a short sword and dagger on one side, an unstrung short bow sits on her back and a bandolier with medical supplies crosses her chest.

The noise and heat catch her by surprise, she flattens her pointed ears and takes half a step back. Recovering, she takes off the veil that she uses to protect her eyes from the outside light. Looking around, she catches the woman’s smile and returns it, wiggling her ears back and mouthing a silent thank you.

Careful not to disturb anything, she slings off her pack, carries it in one hand to cross the workshop, and deftly ascends the stairs.

Once on top, she releases the breath she did not realizes she was holding and scans the room. ”Hello? Is there any one here?” , she asks. ”I’m Elanna Elthiel, just inbound from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings and at your service.”

About a minute later, a hunched half orc woman hobbles toward the smithy, thunking her heavy, club-shaped cane laboriously with each step. Her hair has a few streaks of gray in it, but she seems quite old, as if a harsh life has aged her before her time. Her clothing is just a bunch of baggy, shapeless, gray robes cinched with a belt that was clearly bought for utility, not style. In it are tucked a couple of basic daggers at her hips and a hanging pouch.

The din and scent of the smithy don't seem to phase her as she follows the directions up the stairs, huffing a bit as she finally reaches the top. Nodding a hello, she shuffles and thunks her way over to a chair, easing down into it like a creaky old crone, making sure to shift the contents of one of her pockets out of the way first. A slight squeaking can briefly be heard from it. "Oooof." Shaking her head introspectively, she sighs and introduces herself in a gravelly, gruff voice. "Itka Biklest. Pleased to meet you."

A small kobold with bronze and green scales shuffles in. He is wearing a hooded cloak and carrying a longspear as a walking staff. You can see a club on his belt and a shield slung on his pack.

He speaks with a slight lisp, punctuated with growls and occasional yips. "The child-woman said to come up here." He thumps his longspear on the floor and bows his head to the others. "The Dragon has arrived. I am called Rhaegal."

A young looking elf appears in the doorway behind the kobold. He has long golden hair that hangs loosely off to one side with a large white feather sticking out of a silken headband. He is dressed in a loose linen shirt and finely crafted breaches that were clearly hand-tailored to his thin frame. he has a backpack slung across one shoulder with a wooden mandolin strapped to it. He has what appears to be a small knife strapped to a loose hanging belt. He appears out of breath, with a thin shine of sweat across his brow.

"A thousand apologies my friends! It was not my intention to be late, I simply lost track of the hour." His voice is rather soft and quiet. He continues to move into the room, squeezing past the kobold. "Im Kormei, it is a pleasure to meet you all"

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, meats and cider has been set out on the table for refreshment.

"Aye, aye. Feel free to eat or drink whatever you wish. We're still waiting for everyone else, so eat up."

Anything you would eat or drink from the refreshments table? Whatever you would consume will be there. Pick something that would reveal something about your character.

"Hmp. Don't mind if I do. Thank you." Heaving herself out of the chair, with only one failed attempt, Itka arches her back to crack it, briefly reaching her full height. (It turns out that she's much taller than she normally looks.) A loud crack rings out before she returns to her hunched posture. She makes a beeline for the food, eyeing everything somewhat greedily. Plunking a plate down on the table, she begins piling on the food, favoring anything that looks to be on the fancier end. She goes back and forth from the table and her chair twice, once for her plate and once for a cup of cider, as the cane prevents her from using both hands. Easing back into the chair, Itka begins tucking in with gusto, chewing with broad movements of her jaws and little in the way of table manners. Pointing to a thinly sliced meat, she asks around a wad of the same that's rolling around in her mouth: "Mmm! This is good! What's it called?"

"And I thought we had an exotic team in Kalsgard. Ha, wait till Elien comes in, he'll be delighted."

Elanna smiles inwardly as she greets each one with a nod "Well met. I'm Elanna Elthiel. I hope we're going to have fun together."

She glances from time to time towards the stairs as if waiting for something and an expression of concern crosses her face.

"By the way, where is he? He told me we were going to meet there. And he is late, just like last time."

She forces her thoughts back towards the present time as the Venture-Captain steps in.

"Thanks, Captain. I'm so sick of salted beef and smoked fish so anything fresh would be good. When I signed for the society, I did not think most of my time would be spent on the deck of a bloody ship. There should be a warning somewhere."

Elanna reaches towards the table, picks a bunch of grapes and grabs the closest pitcher of cider to pour herself a full mug. As she takes the first sip, she looks at her companions.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says to Itka with a small blush as she sees the old woman walking painfully back from the table. "This is so selfish of me. Just ask me if you need anything and I'll bring it to you."

Rhaegal gives a toothy grin as he sees the spread of food. He leans his spear on a wall and the kobold darts over, quicker than he entered the room. His eyes gleam at the cuts of smoked meats and ripe fruits. He takes several slices of meat and some apple slices and grapes. He sniffs at the bread and cheese, grunting in disdain. The Dragon retreats to a corner with his meal. He lifts a slice of smoked meat and sniffs it, then suddenly flames erupt from his mouth charring the thin slice immediately as he snaps it up. "A delicious smoked pork, I believe. Very well done." He pops a grape into his mouth.

"This is so exciting! I can't believe I am actually here. Just relax Kormei, you don't want your new companions to think you are inexperienced."

Kormei quietly shuffles over to the table and takes in the vast array of food spread out on the table. He pauses briefly before picking up a single heel of bread and returning to the edge of the room.

"Thank you for your hospitality sir" He says quietly. In between taking bites of the bread, Kormei glances around in awe at the other adventurers.

"They all look so professional. I knew I should have spent more coin on gear. You packed a single dagger. What kind of adventurer brings along a single knife?!"

A roguish looking for of a man taps up the stairs leaning on a cane. His weathered face settled in an easy grin. A cape drapes down his back with a small, new looking crossbow settled over it.

Hello everyone, Duncan's the name. Just back from blazing a trail through the mountains. The heat is welcome. Thought I might never be warm again.

He peruses the offered spread, serving himself some goat meat and rum.

Certainly better than frozen rations.

He flops into an open seat and lounges while looking at the other dishes and considering what he might sample next.

Smine looks among you as you eat from the spread. "It's pretty easy to smoke food around here. High in iron, too!" He laughs. "I think there is one more person coming, but you can get him up to speed." He pours himself a tall glass of cider and takes a swig. "Ah, it's best when it's warm. Let's get down to business."

“It's dangerous around here these days. More dangerous further west, so suppose I shouldn’t complain.” His short sentences almost matching the staccato cadence of the forges below. “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.”

Slide 1 shows what the doll looks like. Feel free to ask him any questions.

Rhaegal looks confused. "Mosquito insects make people leave the village? They try to fight back? Burn them or track the swarms back?"

"What does legend say about why the Witch haunts the town?"

"Is it this way? Are you sure?" A loud voice calls from beyond the door just at the top of the stairs as Elien strives to be overheard among all the clanging of the smithy. As the door opens and he sees he's in the right place and subsequently interrupted the Pathfinder gathering, he beams a wide smile and sweeps back his hooded cloak to reveal a friendly Varisian face closing in on middle age.

"Ah! My apologies!" he states, lowering his voice and closing the door behind him to thankfully diminish the sounds of the workers below, "I daresay I always have the hardest time finding these secret lodges. They're so well...hmmm, secret, I suppose? Yes. Well, that...and the smithy trade down below caught my eye. While I'm not a weapon-crafter myself, I do know my way around a forge or two...and a laboratory to boot, of course. But where are my manners?!"

"Elien Psirec, good sirs and ladies..." he half-bows and gives a slight wink toward Elanna, whom he recognizes from their past adventure, "Newly-minted agent from Ustalav," he expounds, "With a penchant for long-windedness, I'm afraid." He adjusts the bandolier of vials around his chest and unslings his pack so he can sit it on the floor. A stylish crossbow of polished oak is strapped to the back of it. Gazing around the room and seeing most of the seats already taken, Elien chooses to remain standing for now, hooking a thumb around a coiled bullwhip at his waist, and his other hand resting on the pommel of a sheathed shortsword.

"Again, my apologies, Captain..." he notes to Smine, "Please continue. You were saying something about mosquitoes and a witch? Both can be equally vile pests, indeed..."

The normally down-turned corner of Itka's lips quirks upward at the mention of another witch. She knows full well what she's capable of, and it's nothing like that. Of course, I have no idea what a much more experienced and powerful witch is capable of. Hmm... There's a part of her that wants to scoff. But another part of her wants to believe that there's someone out there who could give her some insight into her powers, and what she can do about it to subvert the goals of the infinitely accursed god who gave them to her.

"Is there any first hand account of seeing this 'Mosquito Witch'? As in, is this doll based on something that someone believes they saw?" She squints at the odd looking doll, but doesn't put too much stock in its correlation to the true threat they're being tasked with ending.

"First hand account? Hmm, maybe. You know how rumors spread. Jaffer and Gildsman families are upset two of their kin eloped, so they claim a demon tricked them both. So when the beautiful baby arrives, it's a blessing for both families. But then they lose control of the tale. Someone hears a demon is in town and suddenly everything bad is the demon's fault." Smine laughs.

"Then an actual demon shows up and uses the story as a cover until a paladin slays them. Hopefully this is at the funny rumors of a witch step, and not the horrible creature is terrorizing the public phase. If you ask me, some worshipper of Ghlaunder is taking advantage of the rumors."

Smine is about to take another swig of cider when Elien bursts through the door, startling the dwarf and spilling a trail of cider across his apron. He looks down at the new stain. "and I just bought this, too..." He shakes his head and looks back up to you.

"Rhaegal, you were saying something? Oh, yes. Mosquitoes are pretty native there, so it would be hard to kill them all. I'm certain they tried fighting back at some point. But if you can't find the cause, you can't really fight."

"Shimmerford spotted the witch fifty years ago, apparently. It attracts a lot of fighters, hunters and glory hounds. So Shimmerford made an annual festival of it. Dolls, masks, breads, the whole bit. Never been there myself."

Kormei instantly perks up at the mention of the annual festival. He sits up straight in his seat, and absentmindedly reaches for his mandolin before stopping himself.

"A festival? Well that is certainly interesting. A bit of music, experience the local cuisine, it sounds most enjoyable. When is this festival set to begin?"

"If the described troubles are so paramount as to warrant bringing us into the mix, it doesn't sound like Shimmerford would even be planning another festival. After all, if this witch is real...and she's now actively harassing the town...a festival capitalizing on her name would surely just draw more of her wrath, would it not?"

Elien steps forward and asks to examine the doll. "How...quaint..." he remarks, "Perhaps this kind of mimicry has drawn out the witch? If she came across these...hmmmm, maybe she took umbrage with them? But if the festival's been around a long time...around fifty years, did you say, since the story surfaced?...why would it take this long for her to act?"

He gestures towards Elanna seated around the table. "As my friend here knows, I love nothing more than a good mystery. Whether a cult of Ghlaunder is behind this...a true hag...or just a malicious fey having a bit of fun in cursing the town...I look forward to getting to the bottom of it."

"So...Smine...my good dwarf," the investigator asks, "If you believe this isn't an actual witch, what other possibilities are there among whatever mundane troubles exist around Shimmerford? Is there any reason to believe Ghlaundites...is that a word?...frequent the area? Are there any other menaces who could be causing these troubles? What other suspects do we have? And is there anyone in Shimmerford who could tell us more about this?"

"Yes, ", pipes Elanna, "I'm with you on that Captazin. My first hunch would be more of someone using the legend to frighten the village or even try to empty it."

"But then, we still have the four W questions :"

She start counting on her fingers :

Thumb up : "Who: that's the last question we'll be able to answer"

The index joins it: "Why : is it revenge, a spurned lover or greed ?"

The major: "How: can you breed mosquitoes or bloodseekers?"

The ring finger, now: "And last, where: where could you breed them if you wanted to avoid notice ? That's maybe the first thing we could look for."

Can Elanna recall Knowledge(Nature) (with a +5) to remember in what location bloodseekers live and lay eggs? And does she knows anything else on them?

She turns to Elien with a nod : "And that's where I'm coming back to your last comment, Elien and to you, Captain. How do these questions apply to us, now? Has someone requested the help of the society ? If not, what's the interest of the Society here, besides helping people in distress, obviously? Do we have assets in Shimmerford? Shall we reveal we are Pathfinders or do we go incognito ?"

At each question, one of the raised fingers goes down. As she finishes her salvo of questions, she grabs her mug with both hands and takes a sip. "Sorry for the long list, Captain"

"Hah! We'll make an investigator of you yet, Elanna, my dear!" Elien beams proudly, "The four W questions, indeed...but it sounded like one of them might have been an H? Then again, 'how' does have a W on the end, doesn't it...?" He leans over the table of proffered food and selects a grape, testing its sweetness as he pops it in his mouth and chews.

"You know," he offers as he finishes swallowing, "I'm more of a mind to break it down as follows. One, either the legend is true, and there really is a nefarious witch visiting her wrath upon the town. Or, two, it's a ruse and someone is taking advantage of the legend to enact some plan for gain or vengeance. Or, three...and perhaps my favorite of them all...it's just a coincidence and misunderstanding that's been magnified by the imagined fears of the townsfolk. Until we get there and take stock of things, it's all just supposition for now. But, I do believe those are our three main possibilities to explore until others start to present themselves..."

A silver coin appears in Duncan's hand.

These are all very good questions.

He tosses the coin lightly into the air.

My money is on option two.

"A gnome woman named Galia wrote me, asking the Pathfinders for help.
Knows me, though. Knows we fix problems. She would know more information." Smine gives a short description of Galia:

Galia Farrsmith has blueberry-blue hair and copper skin. She owns a barber shop / beet juice shop near the port to Shimmerford.

"There's a vast swamp outside of town, mosquitoes grow there naturally. Easy place for them to breed."

"The fact that you're visiting Shimmerford with the state it's in? Galia will probably know who you are."

Now that you've heard a bit, you can make an Occultism roll to recall information about legends of the Mosquito Witch. I'll let you make the roll, but please wrap it in a spoiler. Anyone can make these checks, untrained.

"Hmm. I think I remember hearing something about this on the road here. They said holy water protects from this Mosquito Witch's mosquitoes and bloodseekers. It all started about 60 years ago when some teenagers saw it on Witchtop Hill. Hmph! Wonder what the hill's name was before that." It's clear that Itka isn't impressed so far. Teenagers. Known for drama.

Sounds like we should procure some holy water before we set out. I just wonder how much you need to drive off her vermin.

Kormei runs a hand through his long hair as a sigh escapes his lips.

"The fanciful tales of youth are often the cause of many rumors and legends. This does not mean that these things are entirely fictitious. We can certainly meet with miss Farrsmith and take a look right?"

A small smile spreads across his face, showing a hint of glee. He arcs his back in a large stretching motion before continuing.

"Besides, even if it turns out to be a mere fable, we at least get to visit a beat juice shop. That sounds pretty interesting!"

Occultism:

"You know, I've made a career out of studying all sorts of esoteric lore and occultism. And, back in Ustalav, we have a fair number of witches and legends of hags and such...particularly in the Barstoi region," Elien offers, "But even so, we also mark tales of other witches outside our borders...like the White Witches of Irrisen, and so on. As a result, I've heard a bit about this so-called Mosquito Witch. And not simply the tale of some teenagers spotting her on a forested hilltop six decades ago...but also that the witch herself is obsessed with little dolls. Not like these wheat stalk ones, though. She supposedly crafts these incredibly intricate paper dolls. No one knows their purpose exactly, but I imagine they could creep folks out if they had a bit of magic to them? Or if she crafted one that resembled you or someone close to you. The villagers of Shimmerford must have taken inspiration from that to create these homespun versions of the witch herself and then sell them to tourists to make a bit of coin."

Elien then turns back to Smine. "So, this Galia you mentioned? She's a gnome? And I take it she's not prone to fanciful tales or misconstruing acts of pure coincidence into ill omens and imagined fears? If this beet juice barber has her wits about her enough to write to you and request our aid, she sounds like the perfect person to seek out in Shimmerford as we begin our investigation. Speaking of which, how exactly do we find this backwater river town? How far away is it? Do we have a map or a guide to get us there? And is there anything specific we should take with us? Aside from mosquito repellent, of course. I think I'd rely on that a bit more than holy water to protect us."

Rhaegal shrugs. "Dragons know little about Witches and even less concerning mosquitos. But meeting the gnome sound wise. Beet juice sounds like a warrior's drink! I am eager to try it."

"If we were to make these paper dolls, could we lure the witch out? That is, if this is really the witch's doing."

"A ship is ready to take you to Shimmerford when you're ready. Seems like you have a lot of good ideas." Smine shrugs. "Eat up, rest up."

If you have any other questions for Smine, feel free to ask.

He hands you the doll and smirks. ”Think of it as a reference. And a good luck charm. Maybe you’ll need it.”

---

You leave Smine's Smithy and head towards a boat. The captain is a rather excited goblin who invites you all in and warns you to keep the doors shut and stay inside once they disembark. The captain's awful singing voice (and awful sea shanties) make you want to head outside, but looking out the windows changes your mind in a hurry.

Thick clouds of mosquitos buzz about the shoreline, turning into a thick, writhing black carpet. Some of the buzzers sneak through the windows, but they are quickly swatted. If only you could easily silence the captain...

Shimmerford is a forested town located near the East Sellen River’s first fork, just east of Riverton. The boat docks as soon as there is a clearing. "Less buzzing here. Get out, quick, before more arrive!" You are hustled off the boat and into Shimmerford before they slam the door shut.

Did Smine talk about a festive town? Filled with bounty hunters and tourist traps? Was he talking about Shimmerford? This town has nothing but insects swarming around puddles of water and empty streets. Whatever joy was here was sucked away a long time ago.

"Well...this is positively dismal..." Elien mutters upon seeing the streets of Shimmerford. "Surely, this town has seen better days than this..." He swats away a mosquito in annoyance. "We're definitely going to need some repellent. Perhaps I can brew some while we're here? But, for the time being, it's probably best if we get inside somewhere before we're eaten alive by these things..."

Rhaegal pulls his cloak around him close. "I agree, we need to get inside." He breathes fire on a nearby swarm of them, catching several and watching them burn up. "I'm surprised anyone is still left here. This has been going on for a year?"

GM, fyi, I'm reflavoring Rhaegal's cantrips to erupt from his mouth. No mechanical change. He just did Produce Flame. He actually does have the Kobold Breath ability, but it does electricity, not fire.

Reflavor to your heart's content. I'll never say no to it.

It doesn't take very long until you see a gnome with deep blue hair poke her head from one of one the buildings. She quickly runs up to you all. This must be Galia.

“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!”

She hustles all of you into a cozy hut. It has a barber’s seat, lots of chemical reagents, and a tray full of scissors, rollers and brushes. Even if that equipment wasn’t here it would be cramped.

”So, what is next? Here to hunt the witch? Many people have tried, you know. But Smine said he would send the best of these, er, Pathfinder agents he could find. Y’know, we caught and executed this Ghlaunderite cultist who was hiding in our town a few weeks ago. I thought that was the cause of the attacks. But no, mosquitoes aplenty here. You’ve got to do something, fast. I can answer any questions you’ve got.”

She pauses and looks at the barber’s chair. ”Maybe a haircut for one of Shimmerford’s heroes?”

"You seem to be on hard times here, Miss Galia," Elien responds, "As such, I'd certainly welcome the opportunity to pay for a professional haircut. And, while you administer your talents, perhaps we can all discuss these dark times with you?" Following the gnome's directions, he puts aside his gear and takes a seat wherever she'd like to put him.

Once settled, he seeks to put the woman at ease, both with his words and by ensuring she's preoccupied with the familiar task of a barber. "So, to answer your first question," he begins, "Yes...we were indeed sent here by Smine. You seem surprised that he did so. Hopefully, you weren't kept waiting too long. Yet, you also mentioned no one comes here anymore unless they're planning to help. That seems to imply others have preceded us in this endeavor? And yet, if so, they don't appear to have fared any better at ending this infestation. Can you tell us who else came before us? And, are any of these people still around? It would be good if we could consult with them, and possibly combine our efforts..."

As the haircut and conversation continues, Elien then steers it back to the subject of the cult of Ghlaunder. "You also said something about an execution? A cultist of Ghlaunder was hiding here in town? What happened? How was he discovered? And where? Even with his death, there might still be clues we could find wherever he made his home...you know, in the event he was in league with some other power behind this mystery."

"Which, of course, brings us to the true subject at hand," he finishes, "We heard some are saying this is the handiwork of the Mosquito Witch. Legends say she was first spotted 60 years ago on a forested hilltop. Has anyone claimed to have seen her again more recently? Or, at a minimum, is anyone still around who might share more history from that time? If the crone is real...and if she's truly behind this...we might need to visit the place where she was first encountered to gain a better understanding of her life in the River Kingdoms."

Would Itka have been able to pick up some holy water before leaving town? If so, she would have grabbed 3 of them. How long was the boat ride? If we spent the night, Itka would have prepared some different spells. Specifically: Mage Hand, so she could use it to wave away blood sucking insects.

Itka is a bit disappointed that Elien beat her to accepting the offer of a haircut. She's never had anyone else do that for her before, and the thought of being made much of that way sounds intriguing. She can almost picture herself sinking into the chair and saying in her rough, gruff voice: "Make me look pretty." Eh. It'd be like putting a wig on. Still me. Never mind.

Inhaling deeply to clear her head of her musings, she nods at Elien's line of questioning. "Hm. Better let you start on those questions before we dump more on you." She gives an amused half grin, which serves to emphasize her one missing tusk.

Kormei leans up against the wall watching as Elien begins his line of questioning. Seemingly content with Elien's handling of their contact, Kormei turns towards his other companions within the confined space.

Speaking quietly as not to disturb the master barber or her work, he says "I must confess, I am a little disappointed that there does not seem to be much festivities. I also agree with your earlier assessment Rhaegal. The folk of Shimmerford must be a hardy lot to endure this environment."

Rhaegal watches the haircut with fascination. He has never seen the process before and just assumed that hair fell out much like scales were dropped off from time to time. He is initially alarmed as Galia approaches Elien with a pair of sharp shears, but he marvels as she cuts pieces of him off. "Does that hurt, Elien?" He picks up some of the hair and sniffs it, wondering if he should take some just as others take dragon scales.

He looks over to Galia at the mention of beet juice. "I would like to try this! Beets are a rare treat for my tribe. A warrior's treat. I have never had their juice!"

"Galia, what do you think is the cause? Do you believe it is the Mosquito Witch for real? Or something else, perhaps, like the cultist?"

Elanna squeezes in a corner of the shop, letting the other lead the conversation. "A haircut, ha! You just need a good knife to trim the ends from time to time! But I see what Elien and Itka are trying to do."

She looks and listens intently to the gnome's answers and when there is a lull in the conversation, she pipes in: "Mistress Galia, if I may add. One of my companions told me the old whitch was known to make paper dolls? Can you tell us more about those and did you see some appear this time ?"

Duncan swats a mosquito as he watches the barber work.

What a choice you've made there. He'll certainly look, interesting. But the others seem to be near exploding with curiosity. I'll you handle them first.

Elien does what he does best: investigate. So Galia does what she does second best: snip and cut.

He is seated (or strapped, depending on your opinion) into a seat with all sorts of gears and levers surrounding it. She pulls a few, yanks some others, and pushes some buttons. Elien can't see it, but the rest of you notice several bottles of colored liquids pouring out and swirling together. Meanwhile, Galia opens her jacket to reveal several holstered combs, scissors and small irons, which she promptly heats over an open flame (where did that fire come from?)

While Galia snips and cuts away, she continues the thing she does best: gossip and inform.

"Ghalunder cultist, yup. Old Jeff knew his way around good fertilizer. Too bad it was infused with blood. Bad blood. Once we learned about the blood and these mosquitoes came out in force, we went to his hut, not too far from town. We got a little too riled up, and... hacked his body. And then burned his house down. That was a mess." She wipes some sweat from her forehead, using a washrag.

"Now, the Mosquito Witch itself. No one knows anything for sure about her. 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 trails off before snapping to attention and stomping a big red button at her feet. The seat folds back and Elien's head is dunked into a bucket full of hair dye.

She sighs. "You saw we have no festivities this year. I mean, have you SEEN the bloodseekers? 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!" She shakes her head. And slams another button, the blue one.

Six glasses of bright red liquid appear next to most of you. "Fresh beet juice for all of you. I need to keep it under wraps, or a mosquito gets in."

Assuming you drink it, the juice is quite tasty. A bit sweet with some tang. And your tongue is bright red, too.

Hairdo Results:

Elien sits comfortably and allows the agitated barber to do what she does best. As she works, it becomes evident that she's meticulously weaving his long hair into a few cornrows along either side of his widow's peak, and then tapering each strand down over his shoulders. She's also kind enough to hide any graying hairs with a bit of black dye to match his natural hair color.

"A prudent choice..." Elien remarks aloud as the gnome works, "You're really quite skilled, my dear. It takes nimble fingers to weave hair that tightly. And I daresay it gives me an added style I hadn't considered before."

@GM chadius: Would Itka have been able to pick up some holy water before leaving town? If so, she would have grabbed 3 of them. How long was the boat ride? If we spent the night, Itka would have prepared some different spells. Specifically: Mage Hand, so she could use it to wave away blood sucking insects.

That's... quite an operation! Itka had no idea haircuts were so involved. Still, she has to admit while she sips the beet juice, Elien doesn't look half bad. If there's time, she may still treat herself. "So, we'll have to be heading out at some point to do some investigating." She begins in her gravelly voice. "What do you recommend to keep us from being swarmed and sucked dry? Do these bugs give people any sicknesses?"

"Yes! It's another masterpiece!" Galia declares as she unleashes Elien from the chair. "Is anyone else going for a hairdo?" She laughs maniacally until Itka gets her attention.

"Well, the bloodsuckers... will suck you dry. Drain the blood right out of ya like juice out of a coconut. And they pop and leave blood everywhere- it's a mess!" She shudders.

I wonder is someone else is going to jump in the seat. I would have bet Elien was going to end up with bright blue hair.

Still she doesn't move forwards and picks up on Galia's comments. "I'm also quite interested by those bloodsuckers. I've got no idea of where they usually live. But do you remember when and where you first saw any of them? They're bigger than mosquitoes so you or someone else in here may know from which direction they usually come or where they retreat once they have finish feeding. That could also be a good way to start."

Failing in her attempt to act like she's not rather excited about this luxury, Itka shuffles over to the chair and settles into it with a slight shudder of anticipation.

Oh, please let her hair style be absolutely ridiculous! Heheh!

Oh, please let her hair style be absolutely ridiculous! Heheh!

Careful what you wish for, Itka. Elien got off extremely lightly. His luck continues to hold, knock on wood.

"Bloodsuckers...bloodsuckers..." Elien muses aloud, "I take we're not talking metaphorically here. And not just about mosquitoes. What are these bloodsuckers exactly? Back in Ustalav we associate that term with vampires, but I sense you mean something different here?"

Seekers, Elien, bloodseekers. Mosquitoes big enough to carry off a cat.

"Wow. They must grow them huge here in the River Kingdoms then," Elien powers through his thoughts, "So, that would no doubt make the exsanguination process astonishingly fast. And you say these things are also plaguing Shimmerford? Not just the swarms we saw? Good heavens! No wonder you need help!"

"And, more alarming, perhaps...is the thought that this Mosquito Witch might command such creatures into doing her bidding. Truly nefarious. And all the more reason we should get to the bottom of this mystery..."

"To whit," he turns back to Galia, "What more can you tell us about those who attempted to address this problem before we arrived? Has anyone slain any of these blood...seekers?"

Kormei is wracked by a vicious cough. He doubles over, hiding his face within his shirt. He quickly recovers and wipes his face. He casts his gaze around the room, praying to Calistria that he didn't embarrass himself further with his new companions.

"Ugh... I think I just swallowed one. By the divine that was vile. It would appear that they are quite keen on your beat juice my lady."

Rhaegal slurps a bit as he drinks his beet juice. "Ah, that is wonderful! The Dragon approves of it!" He looks at Kormei as he mentions drinking a mosquito. "Is that supposed to be part of it too? Do the mosquitos think the juice is blood?"

"What about the tales of the Witch? Does it say where she might dwell or why she attacks?"

Ikta bravely walks into the seat as Galia straps her in ("For for her own safety", she says.) Galia tosses her gear into a bucket to dry as she pulls out a new set of combs and scissors to work with. Another bucket of hair dye begins mixing as she does what she does best.

"Oh, there's always someone coming to town, hoping to seek out the witch, or kill a whole lot of them. They never make much progress, but we do sell a lot of ointment to treat mosquito bites! The bloodseekers go pop with a single blow, unless they drank a lot of blood recently."

"You will have to ask around for more details on the witch herself. There are plenty of places to look around, by the way."

Slide 4 has a map of Shimmerford. You're currently in Galia's home, indicated by the big red dot. You can choose your next location once Galia finishes Itka's new hairdo.