Post by Sef Tyarrna on Jul 1, 2017 21:05:57 GMT
From the personal journal of Sef Tyarrna.
27/06/XX
I had finished my rounds for the morning and had dropped into the Three Heads to hear the local news. Even for the morning it was quiet. Tuggy, my friend from the expedition to the western mountains some months back, was propping up the bar and having a staring contest with a fellow on the upper balcony. I haven't been able to get up there yet, its roped off and guarded, but Sal the busboy tells me they have another job board up there for more difficult endeavours. The few who have gained enough notoriety to access it call that floor the “Second Head”.
The staring contest was broken off shortly after as we were approached by a well-to-do red headed man named Kennington. It seems he was looking to hire some people for a sensitive task and he felt we fit the bill.
Twenty two miles east by north east, beyond the marsh, we would come to the coast. There we would find the remains of a port. Kennington explained how workers were forced to abandon the project some time ago after they were overwhelmed by small frog creatures. And although there were too many for just two of us to take on, a small “Tactical Insertion Team” could take out their leader. This should cause them to abandon the port.
He called these creatures Grungs, apparently they war with the Bullyfrogs in the Marsh.
As well as 150g each, we would be joined by a sorcerer named Jenna. Kennington explained how Jenna lived with the Portal keeper. She seemed nice, and anyone under the winged wizards tutelage must be incredibly powerful. We bought some potions and hit the road.
The journey has been pleasant and we encountered nothing of note until we reached the purple fields. There we were flagged down by a colourful sprite. As is customary with fey, I waved excitedly back and it flitted over on slight wings. Jenna was entranced, barely containing squeals of excitement. Even Tuggy’s usually fearsome presence softened to this creature.
It introduced itself as Tilly and it explained how they couldn't leave the safety of the field to deal with a threat to its people: A Redcap named Botch. Tilly explained how Botch was a villainous monster planning to attack the fey and hoped to strike a bargain with us so we could kill him.
It seemed only fair, it was on our way and Tilly would reward us with fey potions, so we accepted. perhaps it was my imagination, but Jenna's nervous edge wore off after that encounter. Tuggy quietly remarked that she seemed unaccustomed to the wild, fey or otherwise. I agree, earlier I observed her tiptoe over mud like she was playing a game. Tilly handed us an aid to guide us to Botch’s lair, a glowing flower, which we charged Jenna with carrying. She was delighted.
28/06/XX
Last night was very strange. After a days travel we came to the cusp of the marsh and made camp. Jenna and Tuggy pitched tents, while Whoosh the strange elemental creature that has attached itself to my barbaric friend kept watch. I reverted back to my vagrant ways and attempted to sleep under the stars. Only I couldn't. Every time I put my head down I could hear a deep thumping beat. To assure it wasn't in my mind I went to the edge of the wetlands and noticed on the water surface slight vibrations in time to the beat. I spent a good hour determining the cause, curiously the beat increased to the north west, but it seemed to be a few miles distant. Satisfied it wasn't an immediate threat, I placed my head on my pack and tried to dampen the distraction.
I must of only slept for a few minutes before Tuggy wakes everyone up, stomping through the camp. Okay actually it was Jenna screaming as Tuggy woke her up that disturbed me, but all the same; we were awake.
It was clear why Tuggy had woken up as over the marshland a faint chorus of eerie voices could be heard. Toward the choir on the edge of the marsh a blue flame danced across the water, enticing us to follow. Jenna wanted to turn back at that point, and in hindsight we should have heeded her instincts, but foolishly we left our camp behind and followed the flame.
Shortly we came to the edge of a shallow pond, on an island in the centre we saw the cause of the chaotic chorus.
Two dozen spectres rose in croaking song on the small island, they looked like juvenile Bullypols, smaller then their adult counterparts, they retained vestigial tails. we remained hidden in the weeds and decided Jenna was right, we should leave. But as we turned to go our guiding lights flared, blocking our escape. The chorus stopped.
Jenna ran for the cover of the reeds and shot searing magic at the blue flames, while Tugark and I attempted to fight our way through. Suddenly the ghostly procession surrounded us and began to pass through us. One ran through me, it felt like my heartbeat had been stolen for a just a second and I fell to one knee. I felt desperate then, we needed help, and thats when I noticed the tattoos on my arms had begun to peel off. I shouted to Tugark “Grab her and run!” and from the feathers on my arms at least two dozen crows, black as ink even against the twilight, flew forth from my sleeves and enveloped our assailants.
We made our escape and somehow found the camp again. I was exhausted and fell asleep almost as soon I hit the ground.
I can’t explain what happened with the crows last night, only that they came from my tattoos, and they came when I needed them. This must be the boon I gained from defeating the Shadow Bugbear in the Monastery north of here a month ago.
We’ve packed up camp and are crossing the swamp. I hope to see the sea by sundown.
29/06/XX
We found the port. The marshlands lead to a delta and our lost port.
In the early hours I scouted the area. There were five buildings.
The Mill and office looked dilapidated but otherwise untouched, the next two buildings were residential and saw a lot of footfall. I didn’t actually see anyone but the northern building had some decorated spears in the ground nearby, while large bloody leaves lay at the doorway to the southern building. Considerable effort had gone into making the half built boathouse habitable. I deduced that the chief of the Grung must be there.
Tuggy came up with an amazing plan. Jenna would cast a spell on him making him twice his size and while he drew the Grung’s attention, Jenna and I would sneak round to the boathouse and dispatch the chief.
At almost 14 feet, Tuggy’s giant form was a one man army, I saw him bring his foot down on a green Grung before the nimble creatures were upon him. While I was turned, Jenna rushed into the boathouse. Almost immediately upon Jenna entering there was a loud bang and smoke billowed out of the doorway. I ran in after to see another green one lunge at Jenna, I slashed across its chest, drawing its full attention. In the back of this room, high on a scaffolding sat the purple skinned chief, the fragments of its headdress still floating in the air. I later learned Jenna had taken a pot shot at the chief and narrowly missed, as a result the purple fiend pointed its staff at Jenna who turned into a rabbit before my very eyes! As the commotion outside intensified (evidently Tuggy had shrunk back down to his usual size and this just made him angrier) I dispatched the green one inside while a long vine of thorns from the purple chief raked my side.
With Jenna out I focused on the same feeling I had two nights ago in the swamp and again the black ink on my sleeves began to form into crows and flew forth from my arms to attack the purple chief. It's concentration broke, and from under the scaffold, I saw a red faced woman whose outstretched hand positively crackled with magic, hitting it with a barrage of arcane rays. I used my formidable speed to close the distance and managed to strike before it slammed its staff onto the catwalk, emitting an incredible crack of thunder and forcing me and my feathered friends back. Jenna uses the opening to sear his hide some more, and I bounced back to cleave it in two just as Tuggy bursts through the large double doors, Grung hanging from every limb. They take one look at the situation and hop away.
Don't let Tugark’s fearsome exterior fool you, the Orc has a sensitive heart and could see immediately how much the battle had upset Jenna. To try and calm her mind he took her outside to take in the sea air. I couldn't help noticing the number of Grung vessels in the boathouse, which could easily hold sixty or more Grung. If the boats are here, where are the Grung?
In the distance Tuggy’s keen sailor eyes picked up a shadow on the horizon. Land.
On our return we realised we had forgotten all about the Redcap, and decided to deal with that too. Jenna let the glowing flower draw her to the field Botch called home.
All around red mushrooms oozed with viscous liquid. Suddenly one turned and thrust a scythe at my face. This small thing had a face of true hatred and we had almost stepped on it thinking it a large mushroom. Clearly we had failed to sneak up on Botch, but we played that in our favour.
I explained that we couldn’t be here to hurt him as we weren’t making any attempt to hide, and that as curious travellers we might be in the market for some poison.
Now let it be known that throughout the whole exchange, Botch was telling us how his extremely poisonous crop was perfect for murdering a lot of things. He was not a nice creature and I don't regret cutting him deep as soon as his back was turned.
However, Botch was one tough son-of-Botche Sr, and as we three pummelled him into oblivion he got a few good hits in and those boots were not for show let me tell you.
Tilly was delighted with us though and gave each of us a potion “to make us more like right sized” which must mean small, right?
I can’t wait to get to get to my bunk.
27/06/XX
I had finished my rounds for the morning and had dropped into the Three Heads to hear the local news. Even for the morning it was quiet. Tuggy, my friend from the expedition to the western mountains some months back, was propping up the bar and having a staring contest with a fellow on the upper balcony. I haven't been able to get up there yet, its roped off and guarded, but Sal the busboy tells me they have another job board up there for more difficult endeavours. The few who have gained enough notoriety to access it call that floor the “Second Head”.
The staring contest was broken off shortly after as we were approached by a well-to-do red headed man named Kennington. It seems he was looking to hire some people for a sensitive task and he felt we fit the bill.
Twenty two miles east by north east, beyond the marsh, we would come to the coast. There we would find the remains of a port. Kennington explained how workers were forced to abandon the project some time ago after they were overwhelmed by small frog creatures. And although there were too many for just two of us to take on, a small “Tactical Insertion Team” could take out their leader. This should cause them to abandon the port.
He called these creatures Grungs, apparently they war with the Bullyfrogs in the Marsh.
As well as 150g each, we would be joined by a sorcerer named Jenna. Kennington explained how Jenna lived with the Portal keeper. She seemed nice, and anyone under the winged wizards tutelage must be incredibly powerful. We bought some potions and hit the road.
The journey has been pleasant and we encountered nothing of note until we reached the purple fields. There we were flagged down by a colourful sprite. As is customary with fey, I waved excitedly back and it flitted over on slight wings. Jenna was entranced, barely containing squeals of excitement. Even Tuggy’s usually fearsome presence softened to this creature.
It introduced itself as Tilly and it explained how they couldn't leave the safety of the field to deal with a threat to its people: A Redcap named Botch. Tilly explained how Botch was a villainous monster planning to attack the fey and hoped to strike a bargain with us so we could kill him.
It seemed only fair, it was on our way and Tilly would reward us with fey potions, so we accepted. perhaps it was my imagination, but Jenna's nervous edge wore off after that encounter. Tuggy quietly remarked that she seemed unaccustomed to the wild, fey or otherwise. I agree, earlier I observed her tiptoe over mud like she was playing a game. Tilly handed us an aid to guide us to Botch’s lair, a glowing flower, which we charged Jenna with carrying. She was delighted.
28/06/XX
Last night was very strange. After a days travel we came to the cusp of the marsh and made camp. Jenna and Tuggy pitched tents, while Whoosh the strange elemental creature that has attached itself to my barbaric friend kept watch. I reverted back to my vagrant ways and attempted to sleep under the stars. Only I couldn't. Every time I put my head down I could hear a deep thumping beat. To assure it wasn't in my mind I went to the edge of the wetlands and noticed on the water surface slight vibrations in time to the beat. I spent a good hour determining the cause, curiously the beat increased to the north west, but it seemed to be a few miles distant. Satisfied it wasn't an immediate threat, I placed my head on my pack and tried to dampen the distraction.
I must of only slept for a few minutes before Tuggy wakes everyone up, stomping through the camp. Okay actually it was Jenna screaming as Tuggy woke her up that disturbed me, but all the same; we were awake.
It was clear why Tuggy had woken up as over the marshland a faint chorus of eerie voices could be heard. Toward the choir on the edge of the marsh a blue flame danced across the water, enticing us to follow. Jenna wanted to turn back at that point, and in hindsight we should have heeded her instincts, but foolishly we left our camp behind and followed the flame.
Shortly we came to the edge of a shallow pond, on an island in the centre we saw the cause of the chaotic chorus.
Two dozen spectres rose in croaking song on the small island, they looked like juvenile Bullypols, smaller then their adult counterparts, they retained vestigial tails. we remained hidden in the weeds and decided Jenna was right, we should leave. But as we turned to go our guiding lights flared, blocking our escape. The chorus stopped.
Jenna ran for the cover of the reeds and shot searing magic at the blue flames, while Tugark and I attempted to fight our way through. Suddenly the ghostly procession surrounded us and began to pass through us. One ran through me, it felt like my heartbeat had been stolen for a just a second and I fell to one knee. I felt desperate then, we needed help, and thats when I noticed the tattoos on my arms had begun to peel off. I shouted to Tugark “Grab her and run!” and from the feathers on my arms at least two dozen crows, black as ink even against the twilight, flew forth from my sleeves and enveloped our assailants.
We made our escape and somehow found the camp again. I was exhausted and fell asleep almost as soon I hit the ground.
I can’t explain what happened with the crows last night, only that they came from my tattoos, and they came when I needed them. This must be the boon I gained from defeating the Shadow Bugbear in the Monastery north of here a month ago.
We’ve packed up camp and are crossing the swamp. I hope to see the sea by sundown.
29/06/XX
We found the port. The marshlands lead to a delta and our lost port.
In the early hours I scouted the area. There were five buildings.
The Mill and office looked dilapidated but otherwise untouched, the next two buildings were residential and saw a lot of footfall. I didn’t actually see anyone but the northern building had some decorated spears in the ground nearby, while large bloody leaves lay at the doorway to the southern building. Considerable effort had gone into making the half built boathouse habitable. I deduced that the chief of the Grung must be there.
Tuggy came up with an amazing plan. Jenna would cast a spell on him making him twice his size and while he drew the Grung’s attention, Jenna and I would sneak round to the boathouse and dispatch the chief.
At almost 14 feet, Tuggy’s giant form was a one man army, I saw him bring his foot down on a green Grung before the nimble creatures were upon him. While I was turned, Jenna rushed into the boathouse. Almost immediately upon Jenna entering there was a loud bang and smoke billowed out of the doorway. I ran in after to see another green one lunge at Jenna, I slashed across its chest, drawing its full attention. In the back of this room, high on a scaffolding sat the purple skinned chief, the fragments of its headdress still floating in the air. I later learned Jenna had taken a pot shot at the chief and narrowly missed, as a result the purple fiend pointed its staff at Jenna who turned into a rabbit before my very eyes! As the commotion outside intensified (evidently Tuggy had shrunk back down to his usual size and this just made him angrier) I dispatched the green one inside while a long vine of thorns from the purple chief raked my side.
With Jenna out I focused on the same feeling I had two nights ago in the swamp and again the black ink on my sleeves began to form into crows and flew forth from my arms to attack the purple chief. It's concentration broke, and from under the scaffold, I saw a red faced woman whose outstretched hand positively crackled with magic, hitting it with a barrage of arcane rays. I used my formidable speed to close the distance and managed to strike before it slammed its staff onto the catwalk, emitting an incredible crack of thunder and forcing me and my feathered friends back. Jenna uses the opening to sear his hide some more, and I bounced back to cleave it in two just as Tuggy bursts through the large double doors, Grung hanging from every limb. They take one look at the situation and hop away.
Don't let Tugark’s fearsome exterior fool you, the Orc has a sensitive heart and could see immediately how much the battle had upset Jenna. To try and calm her mind he took her outside to take in the sea air. I couldn't help noticing the number of Grung vessels in the boathouse, which could easily hold sixty or more Grung. If the boats are here, where are the Grung?
In the distance Tuggy’s keen sailor eyes picked up a shadow on the horizon. Land.
On our return we realised we had forgotten all about the Redcap, and decided to deal with that too. Jenna let the glowing flower draw her to the field Botch called home.
All around red mushrooms oozed with viscous liquid. Suddenly one turned and thrust a scythe at my face. This small thing had a face of true hatred and we had almost stepped on it thinking it a large mushroom. Clearly we had failed to sneak up on Botch, but we played that in our favour.
I explained that we couldn’t be here to hurt him as we weren’t making any attempt to hide, and that as curious travellers we might be in the market for some poison.
Now let it be known that throughout the whole exchange, Botch was telling us how his extremely poisonous crop was perfect for murdering a lot of things. He was not a nice creature and I don't regret cutting him deep as soon as his back was turned.
However, Botch was one tough son-of-Botche Sr, and as we three pummelled him into oblivion he got a few good hits in and those boots were not for show let me tell you.
Tilly was delighted with us though and gave each of us a potion “to make us more like right sized” which must mean small, right?
I can’t wait to get to get to my bunk.
