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You have been summoned to Venture Captain Drandle Dreng's office in the Society headquarters in Absalom.
The venture captain is partially hidden behind stacks of papers. This is not helped by the large, steaming mug of tea he is currently slurping from.
“Ah, yes, pathfinders. Do sit down please. I recently received a letter from a lady I knew a long time ago." "Sadly, it was not to rekindle any private relation, but a plea for help in the professional fashion so to speak. Sandra Trinelli is now the mayor of the town Saringallow. In the last few weeks, there has been strange activity in the farmland and woods close to town. With the Goblinblood wars and the town's history she needs a group to investigate and do it discreetly. The population of Saringallow is very superstitious, and she fears that there will be panic in the streets otherwise.”
Dreng takes another slurping sip of his tea. “I’ve known Sandra to be a levelheaded woman. If she fears that there is something amiss, there most likely is. We are normally not in the habit of helping provincial towns protect their boarders. But Saringallow is one of the few towns that came through the Goblinblood wars unscathed. Its central location next to the Conerica river makes it an excellent base of operations to explore nearby ruins in the Chitterwood. If we can find out what is going on, and win the locals over at the same time, it would
mean a solid base of operations for the Society.”
Mind already on something else, Dreng waves you away. “Now off you go. There is a boat, the Red Dove, waiting for you at the docks. It sails in a few hours. Mayor Trinelli will answer your questions about what is going on once you reach Saringallow.”
As you walk from Dreng’s office, it occurs to you that you might want to introduce yourselves. Then perhaps make any final arrangement prior to departing on your voyage in the precious few hours left in Absalom..
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One of the other pathfinders in the room with Venture Captain Dreng is a half-orc in a red cloak, a black raven perched on his shoulder. He takes in the assignment details dispassionately, but you could swear his eyebrows perk a bit at the mention of ruins in Chitterwood.
After you are dismissed, he shakes your hand firmly and greets you with a smoothness that is oddly warm and disarming. "Hi, there. I'm Drin. Still a bit new to this Society business, but the benefits are good."
Once outside, he pulls a red hood over his head and looks at the rest of the group before heading toward the docks. "Mission sounds simple enough: Investigate, eliminate if need be, report, and don't upset the locals. What do you think?"
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A young human man smiles up at Drin as he shakes your hand. He has a strong grip and rough calluses. "Please to meet you, Drin. I'm Theo. And I doubt you're as new to the Pathfinders are I am. This is my first mission."
Theo follows Drin outside.
"The trouble is probably just some goblins, but you never know." Still smiling, he takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He's having difficulty containing his excitement. "Have any of you ever been to Isger?" he asks, glancing at the others.
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A battle scarred half-orc carrying a quarterstaff in hand, with a light crossbow over his back, joined the others in Venture Captain Drandle Dreng's office as they made introductions. "Pleased to meet you Theodoric and Drin, I am Eurkar from Katapesh, a monk of Inori. I am fairly new to the Society myself but I have been in the field before. However, it was to the north of Absalom and not Isger." he said.
"Regretfully, the air of tact and diplomacy is not something that the orcs of my tribe is know for, so I will not be a good person to interact with the locals."
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A tall, athletic human struts out behind you guys. His mismatched clothes looked rumpled and slept-in, but somehow he makes it all work. He’s handsome enough in a rugged sort of way, though he seems to be sporting an only-mostly-healed black eye.
He grins as he follows you all out, rubbing his hands in anticipation. ”Goblin wars. Strange activity. Something called a Chitterwood.” He breaks into a massive, friendly grin, ”This should be a blast!”
He nods at each of the others as they introduce themselves. ”Nice to meetcha Drin. Theo. Eurkar. Call me Jak.” He winks over at Eurkar, ”And I’m happy to rub elbows with some locals. Never know what fun tales regular folks might be able to tell.”
He settles his backpack, adjusting his greatsword so it doesn’t get in the way. ”We better hurry. I hear there’s a boat waiting for us.”
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A short two weeks of boat, barge and carriage rides later, you are in Saringallow standing just outside the town hall. A clerk has taken your information and you are awaiting to be seen by the Mayor.
Here some things you might know or have gleaned on your journey while you wait.
A minor house at the time, House Sarini of Cheliax founded the town of Sarini’s Hollow in Isger as a garden estate for its more influential members several decades before the rise of House Thrune.
The town grew steadily as the nobles brought in peasants to serve its many needs, from farming to ranching to housework. As the Sarinis began to dabble in witchcraft and diabolism more, the peasants also served as a steady and clandestine supply of victims. Once the townspeople caught on, they executed all the Sarinis they could catch and drove out the other nobles.
Shortly after the uprising against House Sarini, the town’s leaders began constructing a wall that soon extended beyond the town, even enclosing some of the farmland that supported its populace. Their intention was to allow the townsfolk to live and farm in peace, and to keep the dangers of the outside world at bay. Indeed, Saringallow’s wall protected the town from most of the Goblinblood Wars’ dangers—the disorganized goblins simply flowed around it in search of easier targets. To this day, only the poorest farmers and most marginal citizens live near the walls. The rest of Saringallow’s residents refuse to build too close, and the guards breathe heavy sighs of relief when they finish their patrols of the ramparts.
Despite its suspicious populace and high walls, trade in Saringallow has flourished thanks to its proximity to Conerica River. While noble visitors are carefully watched and merchants must subject their wares to thorough inspections, the town thrives on the varied commerce that passes through its borders.
The people of Saringallow are generally hardworking and independent, but can be cold and unwelcoming to outsiders. They tolerate travelers and merchants only as long as is necessary to conclude business. Those who decide to settle permanently in Saringallow typically must spend months or even years cozying up to their new neighbors before they are truly treated as fully recognized members of the community.
Within Saringallow, small groups of families and businesses have formed close-knit ties that have lasted for generations. To some older residents, frequently consorting with people from other neighborhoods or walks of life—even fellow citizens—is considered unlucky or even unnecessarily risky, so strong is the townspeople’s fear of the unknown. A common saying reflects the townspeople’s distrust of anyone trying to get to know them: “True friends aren’t too friendly.”
Most citizens of Saringallow are deeply suspicious of magic, especially witchcraft and evil divine magic, though some admit that certain kinds of arcane magic have their merits. In general,
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Two weeks can be a long time traveling, but Jak seems to be in his element. The young man laughs often, smiles constantly, draws his fellow travelers into whatever conversations they seem interested in, and he is always ready to spin a tale to pass the time.
And as the group of you all stand waiting for your interview with the Mayor, he lowers his voice, pitching it so only you can hear. ”Ya know,” he mutters quietly as he nods respectfully at a passing local trader, ”the ferrymen and boat workers from our trip actually had quite a bit to say about this place, once you got them to open up…”
He goes on to tell you guys everything he’s heard, pausing only when someone comes close enough to overhear. And any time a local does pass by, the tall Taldan doesn’t give his usual hearty smile and ‘hello’, but instead gives a conservative, respectful nod.
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Drin makes for an amiable companion on the trip, yet redirects any discussion of his past to something innocuous, like the weather or a curious sight on the shore that you simply can't see when you turn to look. He's at least open on his role as an acquisition specialist for the Dark Archive, and that he makes a bit on the side selling any items rejected for the collection in Absalom. He spends much of the trip speaking to the raven with him in Orcish.
A look of disgust crosses Drin's face at the mention of Saringallow inspecting merchants. "Bunch of busybodies. How's a hardworking merchant of rare artifacts to make a living, with idiot bureaucrats nosing into his business?"
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Most citizens of Saringallow are deeply suspicious of magic, especially witchcraft and evil divine magic, though some admit that certain kinds of arcane magic have their merits. In general, though, they see the practice of magic as an invitation to outside forces that cannot be controlled. Practitioners of arcane magic are generally tolerated, if distrusted, but anyone with any ties to witchcraft or evil divine magic is unwelcome within the town’s walls. On the other hand, the townspeople view alchemy as a practical trade, and they see divine spellcasters of good-aligned deities as holy protectors. Therefore, the town has a few bustling alchemy shops, and Saringallow’s temple to Erastil supports a burgeoning congregation.
It occurs to Drin and to the others in the group that this might be the reason the inspectors always seemed to be looking at the group as they did their duties. Plus towns folk seem to have diverted to other paths or went inside hurriedly as the group passed. The town hall clerk seemed very nervous for someone in his position and looked at Drin's bird as he spoke and did not take his eyes from it. He continues to peek out the window occasionally.
Also of note, in the town square and a prominent market area you passed making your way to the town hall, both contained a well-maintained and fully functional gallows at the ready.
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"Yeeeaaaaahhhh... we might want to be careful with any spell casting," mutters Jak as he side-eyes the gallows. "Or at least make it seem like any magic you use is for good." He looks at Drin's bird. "And maybe ask him if he could keep his beak shut while we're here?"
As they stand there, Jak does his best to make a good impression, politely (but not brazenly) smiling at them as they wait.
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Eurkar kept an eye out as the group progressed through the town. Seeing the temple, it brought a thought to his mind. "Just in case, I have some items that will help with healing." he said, indicating a healing potion and wand.
"I guess we will need to see the mayor first if we want anyone to talk to us." he suggested
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The raven on Drin's shoulder ruffles its feathers at Jak's remark, raises its wings, and opens its beak as if to call out. A quick glance and a grunt from Drin are enough to calm her, but she she keeps a contemptuous gaze on Jak.
"I agree with Eurkar," Drin says. "Let's find out what we're looking for and set out, before people around here find themselves in want of some 'entertainment.'"
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A quick glance and a grunt from Drin are enough to calm her, but she she keeps a contemptuous gaze on Jak.
Jak, realizing his foot is in his mouth, holds up his hands in mock-defense. "I mean no offense. You're a fine bird. Don't know that I've met a talking bird before." He gives the surrounding town a considering look, "I just don't know how well talking animals go off around here. I'd like to keep your fine neck intact, is all I'm saying."
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The town hall door opens and, Alfoed, the clerk you met before shows you down the hall and ushers your group into the mayor's office.
The plush red carpet and oak furniture upholstered with velvet lend this room an air of comfort, but it’s also clearly a place of official business, with several layers of administrative papers, staff memos, maps, and charts covering the wide surface of the solid desk in the center. From her tall-backed chair behind her desk, Mayor Sandra Trinelli looks up, shaking herself out of a deep concentration. She stands and moves forward, "I am Mayor Trinelli. Thank you for coming." "I do want to apologize for my clerk's strange behavior." "He was a little spooked by your bird." "We are not used to such exotic pets." "Please come and sit down." A subtle look of relief flashes across her face as she motions to the oversized chairs in front of her desk as she moves back to her own.
”You are the pathfinders Drangle Dreng mentioned in his sending.” “Thank you again for coming.” “Normally, I’d exchange more pleasantries with my guests, but I fear there is no time,” she says. “I’m glad you’ve arrived,” she says, a measure of relief creeping into her strained voice. “Our town is dealing with its share of troubles right now, and this unknown menace beyond our walls has me the most worried.”
She takes a deep breath as if composing herself, and sits carefully in her chair, assuming a self-assured posture that seems to come to her much more naturally. “Specifically, we may have a goblin problem,” the mayor continues. “I’ve recently received reports of goblins lurking in the woods outside of town. There have been no attacks yet—only minor damage to fences and some stolen sheep, I’m told—but we can’t afford to let our guard down. Given how we suffered during the Goblinblood Wars, we can’t assume that these scattered sightings are meaningless when they might very well mean that a major warband is about to descend on our heads.”
“Even worse, it seems that these goblins are covered in some unholy manner of filth—even more so than normal! If word about that gets out, well, folks might start to panic. We are a superstitious lot here in Saringallow, as I’m sure from my clerk's actions you now know.” “In short, we need to move quickly and deal with these goblins before they become a larger threat. Sending members of the town guard out into the woods, though, could leave us open to attack. I’m sure you see my dilemma.” “This is where I’d like you to intercede, my friends. Find out where the goblins are coming from and who—if anyone—is leading them, then take out the threat.”
“Dreng has said your payment would be included for the list of favors I will owe him and not to offer you bounties for goblins and goblin dogs. However, if you bring me proof that a larger threat has been eliminated, I will provide a bonus of 100 gold for your group.” “You have come a long way.” “It would be the least Saringallow could do in appreciation.”
“Most of the sightings have originated from the area northwest of town, particularly near the homesteaders out by Clover Stream. That’s probably a good place to start your investigation. Aside from that, I’m afraid I don’t have much else to tell you. Unless you have any specific questions?”
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"Understandable that the people of Saringallow would be concerned about any sign of goblin activity," Drin reassures her. "They needn't be very organized to do the type of damage you've described, though."
He releases a pensive sigh. "Still, I suppose you can't be too careful. Maybe one of them has stumbled onto some artifact in the ruins nearby and rallied the others to their tribe."
Drin leans forward, wagging his left index finger. "You say the goblins are covered in something. Has anyone provided a description of it?"
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"Or a sample?" Eurkar asked. "House Sarini, what more can you provide about them? Sounds like they were not a friendly family. I understand from Jakwin that they had issues with witchcraft and diabolism, using the local community as their test subjects before they got executed. Is there any more information that could be added? " he added.
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"The witnesses are out in the farms to the Northwest. Most of the farms near Clover Stream have seen something or have had damage. I would start with the Escoro's. They are the closest to the Stream and have seen actual goblins." "But there are others in the area."
”As for the strange substance on the goblins, the reports tell of a grayish-purple, tar-like substance with a rancid smell. It seems to coat patches of the creatures. In some cases, residue of the stuff was left behind. Father Ruvarra, our local Priest of Erastil has gone out and destroyed the stuff for lack of better description.”
She sighs and continues, ”I again apologize for not knowing more. Father Ruvarra would be a better person to answer questions on the substance. I can only say he has theories that it might be behind some of the large vermin infestations found in our town. Father Ruvarra seems to believe the substance attracts vermin.”
She gazes out an adjacent window, then says, ”Goblins are not the only unusual issue for this town now. We have a group of apprentices that have disappeared.” “Father Ruvarra’s adopted daughter is among them.” “It is not unusual for young folks to want to leave and seek a life elsewhere, but a group with the potential of these apprentices leaving in mass is rare.” “We are struggling to understand.” ”I only tell you this to ask for your delicacy with our Priest.” “He is a kind, giving man.” “He is dealing with a lot. He runs our infirmary and performs daily blessing services.”
She looks down at her lap, then steeples her fingers in front of her. Her head comes up again with a look of determination, ”Now for the second of your questions. I will try to cover only the highlights of our history.”
”The Sarini family founded this town. They employed a third of it even up until their downfall almost 80 years ago. Slowly, the town began to suspect something was wrong at the manor house of the Sarini Family. Young employees were disappearing. They were said to be running off to find a better life after working only a short time. They were having fatal accidents with no bodies or explanation. Others just disappeared with no word. The townspeople eventually discovered that the Sarini Baron and his wife were using their young employees as subjects of dark rituals and eventual sacrifice. The town went crazy. They rounded up all the Sarinis that they could get their hands on, and in mob fashion, hung them. It unfortunately did not end there. The Sarini’s had been aided by some of their trusted employees. The town hunted down anyone connected to the family. Neighbors turned in neighbors. Not all the accusations were founded. I hate to think of those dark times. “ “To make it worse no records were found to help families of the victims find closure or any answers.
”This town has a long memory. I am sure you saw the gallows in the market. It is manned 24 hours a day. Ready for any Sarini family member found.” “The paranoia sometimes extends to any minor nobles. They are not hung of course but they are not welcome. There have been incidents, fights and such.” “But, the town has prospered from its location on the river and trade route. The town has adapted to some extent to be at least tolerant. Now we have young folks missing again.”
”I really can’t understand our peoples superstitions sometimes. Nolarin, Father Ruvarra’s daughter, has a similar raven pet to your own. Alfoed reaction is a good example of the silliness.”
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Theo addresses the mayor. "What became of the Sarini residence after the revolt?"
He listens to her response.
"That's enough information to make a start. We'll let you know once we make progress." Theo turns to the others. "Do you want to speak with Father Ruvarra before we head out to Clover Stream?"
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"He does seem our best chance at learning just what the goblins have been mucking around in. Given the situation with his daughter, we must take a delicate approach."
He turns his head to the ever-present raven on his shoulder. "Þú verður að bíða fyrir utan þennan."
Drin looks at the rest of you. "If there's nothing else, we'd best be on our way." He turns toward the mayor and gently bows his head. "Thank you for the information, Mayor Trinelli. The Pathfinder Society will get to the bottom of the problems in Saringallow."
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"Unless there are any futher questions, we beg your leave Mayor Trinelli. The faster we can get to the bottom of things, the better it will be for the area." Eurkar said.
As they were heading out he looked back towards the temple. "I guess we will want to pay Father Ruvarra a social call to see what he can tell us before we go checking the farmers." he suggested.
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Mayor Trinelli gives you directions and a slip of paper with a introductory note. "Give this to the attending acolyte. He will show you to Father Ruvarra without issues." "I wish you luck and a swift conclusion to this matter. You are doing a great service to this town and its people. You have my thanks."
"If you have any other difficulties, please, let me know and I will do my best to resolve them."
You make your way East and then two streets South arriving at the large, ancient stone temple, probably one of the oldest buildings in the town. It is well used and well maintained.
As you ask for Father Ruvarra after entering the Narthex, an acolyte of no more than 15 years dresses in simple white robes beckons you to follow. The youth leads you through a large sanctuary with wooden pews, then what appears to be a hospital with two patients that are sleeping quietly. Then through a larger living area with bunk beds and what appears to be a large soup kitchen. Finally you arrive at a small hallway of offices. Stopping at the farthest door, the youth knocks softly and says, ”Father Ruvarra, there is a group of warriors here, they have come from meeting with Mayor Trinelli. They would like a word with you.”
A deep male voice answers, ”Come.”
You are admitted into a small office with just enough room for your groups to stand. An olive skinned, dark-haired man of about 45, Father Ruvarra, stands and greets you and says a small blessing over you. ”How can I help you gentlemen.”
After your inquiries about the strange filthy substance, Father Ruvarra explains. “We have had small amounts of Demon’s Bile found on a gravestone in the graveyard, and on the Escoro farm where a fence was vandalized. It is a purple, gray sticky substance that smells like corruption and decay. To me it sounds like the goblins might be covered with something similar.”
”Demon Bile is nasty stuff with many vile affects.”
“First, it seemed to attract vermin - ants, centipedes and other insects. It strengthens them and enlarges them. The substance itself also seems to grow, slowly at first, but faster as it covers larger areas. The vermin exposed to it become very hostile and will attack anything that comes near them. Large enough patches are said to spew forth giant insects.” “But I have not witnessed this.
”From my reading, I found a reference that says the substance if ingested causes a slow slide into an evil insanity or dementia where the victim becomes totally devoid of compassion, right from wrong or any morality. Things like paranoia where friends kill friends, that sort of thing.”
”I channeled the strength of Erastil to destroy that which was found at both locations. However, it is said that contact with cold iron can harm it. However, I have not tested that method of destroying it.”
Father Ruvarra, looking tired and like he has not slept well, wishes you a successful hunt to find and eliminate the goblin threat. "Perhaps you now have the information you need. I think your next step should take you to the Escoro Farm as the Mayor indicated." "May Erastil watch over you and protect you."
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Theo addresses the mayor. "What became of the Sarini residence after the revolt?"
"The Baron and his wife were captured in town and hung. The remaining family either ran off or they were captured and hung."
But that is ancient history and you all did not come here for a history lesson." "We are getting off topic. These suspicious goblin sightings need to be investigated. Perhaps if you hurry, you could make it to the Escoro Farm and back before it gets too dark. Yes?"
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After Father Ruvarra goes back to his study, Drin turns to the group. "Any of you have cold iron weaponry? My inventory is a bit light, at the moment. Perhaps it would be possible to find something in town, but I don't want to spend any more time here than necessary."
He lets out a whistle as you leave temple, and the black raven appears in the air and alights on his right shoulder. "Let's check out the Escoro farm." He looks toward the sky and brings his left hand up to shield his eyes. "Maybe pick up something to eat along the way."
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The journey through Saringallow’s outskirts is largely a pleasant one. The homesteads nearest to the city belong to farmers. They just nod and point your group farther down the road to your inquiries about recent goblin sightings. Eventually, the dirt roads give way to smaller, worn-down trails. Pastures thick with green grass and dotted with sheep and other livestock replace the rows of wheat and vegetables. Soon, you can faintly make out the sound of running water nearby.
Suddenly the noise of buzzing insects and birdsong is broken by cries for help. A young man, a shepherd, running at full tilt, approaches from a trail leading to a field off to the Northeast. He is clearly terrified about something behind him. He shouts and gestures frantically toward whatever he’s fleeing. “I saw them!” he screams. “Goblins! They’re in the woods! They took our sheep! You have to do something!”
Theo, scanning the vacated field, notices a group of sheep approaching.
They are moving a little strangely. The legs are swinging as if they do not touch the ground. He also sees a glint of steel from a blade sticking out from under the stomach of one. "Wait, they are goblins!" But as he screams out to his companions, they are already moving.
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Seeing that Theo's sword seems to be caught in its scabbard, Drin steps to the warrior's left and reaches into his spell pouch with his right hand. He grabs a pinch of wool, noting the coincidence internally.
He gestures his hand and arm at odd angles, pressing forward until he feels the magical energy begin to connect with the nearest goblin. With a quick shout of an arcane phrase, he releases it.
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Eurkar is able to pick the cold iron items at the general store, Saringallow Sundries, with little difficulties. They do record in a by name log every item he purchases. "It's required by city ordinance." the clerk says. "Every purchase is recorded." Showing you the log with date/time, name, item, qty, and amount.
Drin rushes forward at the goblin-sheep. With a wiggling finger he wrap red goblin in this spell. . The red goblin seems to straighten up and stop moving towards the group.
As Drin gets closer, he notices the goblins have strapped dead sheep hurriedly gutted, but still dripping blood to themselves and they seem to be covers in splotches of purplish gray filth.
Almost at the same time, Eurkar loads and fires his crossbow, but squeezes the trigger a little to hard causing the bolt to fly slightly wide of blue stopping somewhere in the tree's canopy.
"Bahh...hee hee...Bahh.", the blue goblin bleats laughing as he does.
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Jak lights up at the prospect of some action. With a wink at his group, he rushes forward, pulling a notably dull-gray morningstar from his hip. As he rushes forward, he begins yelling out a song … a song about a wolf in sheep’s clothing trying to sneak into a Taldan dance. His energy with the lyrics is contagious, and you feel yourself energized with every shouted word.
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The second verse of the song continues, and the wolf-in-sheep's clothing infiltrates the party, mixing in with the Taldan nobles and sewing chaos with his lies. Jak belts it out in his deep tenor voice as he swats at the nearest goblin.
Assessing the numbers remaining, he slings his shield into place.
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Blue goblin shifts around to get a better angle at the singing bard, ”Why you sing about wolf and sheep? We are goblin and sheep.” “Sheep is dead, but goblin stab.”
Meanwhile Green goblin dodges the morningstar of Jakwin. The giggling seems to stop as a look of utter hatred appears on green goblin's visage. ”Die, goodie!” The green goblin stabs out at Drin while giving him ‘the evil eye?’.
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The blue goblin's strike is easily dodged. However, Green goblin's stab scratches Drin's leg doing 1 point of slashing damage.
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Green goblin pulls back just in time to avoid the massive blow from Theodric's morningstar. Theo's weapon seems to have hit only dead sheep legs sending the psuedo-disguise flying away.
Red goblin shaking his head seems to recover from the effects of the magic. He darts forward dogslicer flashing out at Jakwin as he giggles and bleats. "Bah...hee hee..."
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But Red goblin is too busy laughing to mount a precise strike missing badly.
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Jak's song reaches a crescendo, the young brawler roaring the latest verse as if it's a challenge directly to their little disguised attackers. This verse is about the unfortunate turn the story takes, where the wolf-in-sheepskins meets the town's executioner, whose blade swings with such finality. As he spits out each word at the goblins, he takes a circling step, bringing one of the goblins directly between himself and Theo.
Then the morningstar falls once more.
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Blue goblin abruptly stops giggling as Theo's morningstar crushes his shoulder. He flies back with the momentum of the blow and lands unmoving. Red goblin cries, "Die, goodie!". He stares hard at Jakwin, giving him the evil eye. He swings his dogslicer at Jakwin's leg.
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But, Jakwin blocks the blow easily.