The Isle of Dread

The Election of a Diety and Other Reasons to get Drunk by Jonesie Windell

A rustling of wings roused Jonesie Windell from his slumber on the pleated leather couch in his tiny office. He adjusted himself, turned over and pulled the jacket he was using as a blanket over his head. The carrier pigeon looked at him and cocked it’s head to the side. It’s talons clicked softly against the surface of his desk as it hopped to the edge, and aggravated at being further ignored, expanded it’s wings, knocking his desk lamp across the desk and spilling kerosene onto the grubby maroon carpet.

“Go away” he shouted, muffled by the fabric.

The pigeon opened it’s tiny beak and a voice like a drill sergeant boomed forth, echoing through the room and the inside of Jonesie’s skull, “Get your lazy ass off the couch or you’re fired!”

Instantly, Jonesie dove out from under the jacket and landed on his hands and feet. He scrambled for his balance and blinked wearily at the messenger bird, who was apparently being possessed by his editor-in-chief.

“Yes sir…” he replied, obviously exhausted with dark rings under his eyes and clammy skin.

“You make me sick, Windell. Look at yourself: no prospects, haven’t turned in a story in weeks, about to be washed up, about to be on the street. The only thing you’re good for is turning liquor into nervous sweat. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Jonesie had never seen a pigeon scowl before, and felt a smile spread across his face, even as he fought it with every ounce of his being. The fact that it was such an inappropriate reaction made resisting even harder and he broke into a shaking and uncontrollable laughter. He was greased this time for sure, and knowing that, he simply let go and sunk into the throes of self-deprecating, self-shaming oblivion.

“What the hell is wrong with you Windell? Were you dropped as a child? Did your mother feed you lead-based paint as a baby?” the editor-in-chief flapped his wings as he berated and Jonesie absolutely lost any remaining control.

His head swam as he gasped inbetween bouts of laughter and the previous two days of hard drinking began to turn his stomach from exertion.

The editor was so livid now that his words became a rabid, garbled stream punctuated by constant swearing. The wild exertion caused the pigeon vessel to become light-headed and it lost it’s balance. The editor fell over, falling into the nest of quills and inkwells and making all manner of bad noises and Windel couldn’t breathe at all, doubled over on the kerosene dampened carpet of his office.

He began to gag as his stomach decided to heave vomit. Panting, the bird righted itself and paced back and forth on the edge of Jonesie’s desk, watching the ugliness taking place below on the floor.
Shaking and sweating glue, Jonesie backed away from the pool of bad decisions he had unleashed, sinking back into his sofa.
“You’re revolting” his editor said, pecking at an itch beneath his wing and finding a tasty mite.
“Great, then fire me” Jonesie sighed. Honestly, it was only a matter of time anyway. He was more surprised by the fact that he had made it this long.

The pigeon watched him for several moments considering this, but resumed pacing along the edge of the desk, “No. The Greatfather has requested you personally for a story of particular interest. He requires your ability to fly under the radar among profound, legitimate degenerates. You’re the only reporter we know of sloppy enough to pull it off.”

“Sounds like you really understand the breadth of my skillset, then. What’s the gig?”

“A convention. Those outer space yahoos are renting out the Winter Palace of Erastil for a solid week, invitation only. We want you to infiltrate as a member of the Golarion chapter of the Divine Shadows of the Dark Tapestry.”

Jonesie yawned into the crook of his elbow, “Okay, great. What’s the pay?”

“You get to keep your job, jackass! That’s the pay” the editor cawed, the feathers around his neck splaying out, fluffing him up defensively.

Jonesie shrugged, “So what? You just said you need me specifically. Those tapestry guys are batshit crazy.”


“So” he paused and spoke deliberately and used the editor’s first name for emphasis, “I want hazard pay, Farris.”

“Fine, whatever. They’ve given me a twelve thousand gold budget for this story. Half of that is yours if you can make it back in one piece” he said, annoyed that his whole hand of cards was face-up on the table now.

“Just half?” Jonesie prodded, “Surely my contribution here is more than fifty percent.”

“Wrong, asshole. We’re sending you in with a partner.”

“For what?”

“You’re going to be wearing a scrying stone. I don’t just want a full write-up of this trainwreck, I want footage damnit!”

Jonesie sat up straight and shouted back, “That’s suicide. You want me to cover a lunatic mage convention wearing magical spy gear? A layman can spot a scrying stone, even without being able to detect magic.”

“That’s what your partner is there for. We managed to get an understudy of The All-Seeing Eye himself. Nobody is going to know anything, but for this to work you’re going to have to stay in character. Our contact has already sent an RSVP to the scheduling entity with carefully falsified identities for both of you to use.”

“Identities? What kind of identities?”

“You’ll be posing as husband and wife. Your suite is being rigged as we speak with an illusory field that will suggest to prying parties that all is normal and that you’re newlyweds celebrating your union at a gathering for your mutually shared religion. No detail is spared, from thoughts you would be having all the way to, uh… night time activities.”

“What makes you think we won’t do those things naturally?” Jonesie quipped with a smirk.

The editor cackled laughter, flapping his wings, “Trust me, it doesn’t take a diviner to spot a professional loser.”

“I’ve been called worse by much fancier birds than you, sir. But pleasantries aside, who cares if the wackos are having a convention? Twelve grand is some serious bread for a pigeon like you to throw around. What gives?”

The pigeon vessel slouched somewhat, a somewhat more human defensive posture, “We had an informant pass along some information. This isn’t just a gathering for fun: The Weeping Eye, present author of the tapestry, is departing. Whatever that means. Contenders for his throne are coming to vie for a chance to become the next author. Being entirely composed of oracles, all attending know to expect treachery and accept the risk of death for potentially ascending to full God-head.”

“Whoa” he mumbled, surprised that The Weeping Eye was making the big leap after a thousand years of uninterrupted dominion. Of course, tall-tales speculated on where the authors went when they stepped off into the void, but none had ever returned to confirm any of it.

Jonesie cleared his throat, “Say, how about an advance?”

“Don’t push your luck! You lay around here goldbricking, drawing a salary that you pay forward to the liquor store and then you think we’re giving you an advance?” he squawked furiously.

“Fine, but I’m broke and I’ll need a few provisions for the trip. I can’t show up sober. What would that do for my cover?”

A voucher was cut to cover the deluxe travel accommodations to Maddy’s.

Maddy’s was the hub for interplanar travel for those that didn’t want to be documented in public record. Outside of the mage’s college, there was always someone looking to make some cash running some hedge-wizard travel operation. These places were hotbeds for illegal travel for fugitives, immigrants and journalists alike. Maddox the Fleet was just better at not getting caught than most.

Jonesie’s connecting coach would arrive in a few days along with his “partner” who, being a scholar mage of some kind, was probably a hard-nose of whom he would ditch at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, he disguised himself well enough that the innkeeper allowed him to open a tab as Farris DeLance, his Editor-in-Chief.

“No advance my ass” Jonesie mumbled as the bartender poured him a frosty pint.

“What was that, Mr DeLance?” the bartender asked.

“Keep em coming” Jonesie shouted, “Everyone’s drinking on me tonight!”


Kyras hugged Mira as they watched the pyreflies in the dark. He never expected to be raising a child. Helf-elves were sterile. Something akin to mules, apparently. The comparison was not exactly flattering, but appeared to be accurate on a biological level.

He looked down at the girl by his side. She was so… small. His mind flashed back to the letter he’d received from her parents shortly after he’d healed Mira’s stomach wound. It was so… dismissive. Like they were glad to be rid of her. He turned back to the pyreflies.


“Yes, Mira?” He looked back down as she felt her tense up nervously. She didn’t return his gaze.

“Um… Can… Could I call you Dad?”

Garidan strode into the room and quietly watched his wife weave magical energies. Lestari continued her work as she spoke. “Yes dear?”

“Our youngest is missing.”

Lestari lowered her arms and turned to face her husband.

“Seems the ascetic she was with…” He rifled though the papers in his hands. “Kyras. Seems he’s disappeared. She ran off to find him.”

She sighed. “How long until she can be recovered? I don’t need some haematurge using her as reagents against me.”

“Weeks or months. She headed for Saserine; middling trading port. We don’t have any assets there. The Bora will get there pretty quickly, but even Bloodhounds will take some time to track her down in a trade port.”

Lestari made an irritated noise. “I though we were done with… Mira years ago. But no; nothing can ever just stay done.” She flicked her hand at the spell she had been weaving. “Not even magic. Always putting out fires…”

“Indeed. I’ll have Isolde keep you updated if anything happens.” Lestari gave a weary nod as her husband left.

Mira looked up at the building, and back down into her notebook and at the token she’d found in her Dad’s room.

‘Pathfinder Society’

This was the place.

She stepped in and began looking for someone helpful. A secretarial looking dwarf approached her. “Can I help you, young miss?”

Mira fumbled through her things. “I, uh-” She pulled out the token and showed it to the dwarf. “I’m looking for my Dad. A half-elf. He used to work with you guys.”

The Call

Chop wood, carry water.

Mira dropped the head of her ax, cleanly splitting the piece of wood in two. She rotated the pieces and dropped the blade again. The remains were tossed into the pile and another piece of wood was placed on the stump. She wiped the sweat from her brow.

Chop wood, carry water.

Mira picked up the bucket of fresh water and headed back to the house. Thinking she heard Dad, she squinted at the building, trying to notice something. She couldn’t make out much through the ricepaper sheets. Just Dad and some other figure. Was that a sword?

Wait, what?

“Dad?” She hurried forwards as her stomach twisted itself in knots. “Dad!” As she neared their home, a shockwave tore out from the building, shredding the paper covering the doors and knocking her backwards. Mira quickly forced herself back to her feet and dashed inside as fast as she could, screaming for her father.

There was nothing.

She ran outside, through another door, trying to chase down her Dad and the other figure. There was nothing; the hills and river that surrounded her home greeted her as if nothing had happened.

Mira poured over the room. The mats were scuffed, as if Dad had charged forwards at nothing. His sword, Patience, was nowhere to be found. The scabbard was on the ground though. It looked like it had been yanked off, dropped on the floor and then blown away by the blast.

She picked up the scabbard and clutched it to her chest, hugging it as she cried.

Mira sniffled and wiped the tears from her face. There had to be something here.

A small book caught her eye. It looked old. One of Dad’s journals. It had been resting on corner of the shelf where Patience normally rested. She opened it and began reading it, trying to find anything useful.

It appeared to be a record of Kyras’s earlier days, before her became an ascetic. She didn’t recognize the place names. Saserine, the Isle of Dread… She’d never heard of them. She scrambled for the bookshelf in search of an atlas.

“So, what’d you think of my offer?” Grimsdottir flicked her Eyes away from the scabbard Mira was turning over in her hands. She always had to revert to her normal, mundane vision when Mira brought that thing out; it practically burned her eyes with its brightness. After blinking for a few moments, her Eyes closed and she could look in the direction of Mira and the scabbard again.

“The one to join your group, you mean?”

Grim nodded. “Yeah, that one. It’s not a bad deal. The pay is crazy good. True, there’s a lot of fighting and killing, but you can handle yourself. Most of the things you fight are either crazed, mindless, or just plain stupid.”

Mira placed the scabbard back in her bag. “And why did you need me, again? You can hand yourself.”

Grim nodded. “True. But my employer can’t; her previous protectors got wiped out in a convoluted crash of multiple assassination attempts. So I’m stuck babysitting and coordinating.”

“I see.”

“There’s adventure and stuff. I’ve got a nagging feeling we’re going to end up going to someplace called the Isle of Dread. Some island that moves around and supposedly nobody returns from.” Grim shrugged, closing her eyes as Mira’s perked up. “Sounds like nonsense, but it also sounds like the sort of nonsense I get dragged into.” Grim sighed. Her life had become so complicated lately.

“I’m in.”


Mira backed into the wall, almost tripping over one of the jars that had been knocked down in the fight. She waggled her assailant’s dagger at him. Her breath was rapid, unsteady. “St-stay back!”

The elf moved closer, carefully reaching out and attempting to grab the blade back. He was bigger than most elves. Bulkier. “Easy, girlie…”

His companion kept her own blade at the ready, clearly satisfied with the situation. “You told me this was going to be easy, K-” She stopped herself as she began to utter her companion’s name.

“Calm down, Arumen. It’s almost over.”

Arumen spat her words at him. “Fucking hell! Could you not use my real name?”

‘K’ laughed and turned to face Arumen. “Calm d-”

Mira pushed the blade forwards, sliding the tip between the gaps in the elf’s rib cage. It was surprising how little resistance cloth and flesh presented to steel. She stared wordlessly, horrified as the blade continued to push through the elf’s lungs, clipping through the heart on it path through to the other side of him. Blood covered everything. It spurted out of him as he looked down and tried to say something. “Gugh…”

Mira released the grip of the blade and stepped back as the elf fell. He reached for the hilt as he sunk to the ground, feebly to remove it as shock overwhelmed him.

“Kalathel?” Arumen stared as her friend collapsed. The twilight was silent for a time. Eventually, the elf turned to face the terrified human. Her voice seethed. Arumen stepped forwards, pointing her blade towards the human.

“You. Little. Shit.”

Mira’s eyes remained fixed on the dead elf as blood slowly pooled around him. She felt something warm in her gut, and looked down to see the elf’s blade in her belly. Blood slowly flowed. Mira looked up, blankly meeting the elf’s furious gaze.

The elf suddenly snapped her head to the left and cursed. Yanking the blade out, she vanished into the growing night. Mira’s vision faded as a figure dressed in an orange robe turned the corner.

Kyras continued his lecture on ethics, reiterating his key point: Always choose good over law. The longsword on the shelf nearby glowed approvingly. The monk smiled at the sword’s contribution. His expression saddened as he noticed Mira’s expression.

Her wounds had healed nicely. Physically, she was probably better off now than she’d ever been. A paladin flooding your body with positive energy everyday for two years would have that effect. But the mental scars…

He moved forwards and wrapped her arms around her. He patted her back, letting healing energies flow into her as he hugged her. “You’re remembering the night we met again, aren’t you?” She nodded, and he nodded in response. “It gets easier, I promise. It never gets easy-” The sword glowed in agreement. “But it gets easier.”

Meet Mira

Grimsdottir leaned back in her chair and gently blew at the contents of the chipped cup in her hands. It was some sort of local alcohol that was served hot in a comically small cup. A halfling brew, perhaps? She glanced at the contents one more time before shrugging and sipping the contents.

Ah. That’s why the cup was small.

After she stopped coughing, she dumped the remainder into her tea. She sipped experimentally at her Dwarven’d up tea.

Probably should’ve stuck to having them separately.

She turned back to the table and her companion, continuing to sip at her beverage. “So, three cards, was it?” After Mira nodded in response, Grim picked three cards at random from the spread in front of the ascetic. “Why can’t you do this on yourself again?”

Mira slumped forward and sighed. “Performing the Harrowing on oneself is… bad. Attempting to discern one’s own fortune is an intrinsically selfish act, and it taints the energies of your own fate.”


The monk shrugged. “Eh, probably. Ask a seer of thaumaterge if really want to know; I just do this for fun.”

Grimsdottir chuckled and flipped over her first card. On it was an image of a disheveled figure in broken chains, exulting under a bright blue sky. It was upside down. “Past…”

Mira continued. “The Big Sky, inverted. Freedom, lost.” She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look like a slave.”

Grim sipped from her drink again. “Press-ganged. Went to sleep one night, woke up the next day on a ship in the middle of the sea. I was given the choice of joining the Imperial Navy or being ejected from it. Naturally, I joined. With some resentment. Turned pirate a few years later.” She flipped over the next card. “Present. How’d you get these, anyway? I thought you were some sort of… religiously poor person.”

Mira grinned. “The term is ascetic. And they were a gift. While frivolous spending does… distract from the path, it is important to be appreciative of the gifts one has received. If not for oneself, then for the giver.” The revealed card depicted a skeletal corpse strung up in an endless field of thorny vines. “The Tangled Briar, True.”

The pirate looked down at the card. “Well, that seems fairly straightforward. I’m all trapped in something then, is it?” Her gaze shifted to Mira’s robes. They didn’t look like the robes of a pauper. “Same deal with the robes then? A gift?”

“Yes and yes. I take it you’re confused about something?”

Grim grinned. “Yes and yes.”

The monk sighed. “Well, the Briar suggests you’re trapped, or perhaps lost. Perhaps it has something to do with how you arrived here.”

“And the robes?”

“They were a gift. From my… family.”

“Oh? They’re pretty fancy, at least to what I’ve seen around here. The phoenix thing they’ve got going on-” Grimsdottir gestured towards some of the more intricate patterns on Mira’s robes. “That doesn’t look cheap. Your family must be pretty well off to be able to afford that. How’d you go from that to being an… ascetic?”

“That is a… long story.” Mira picked up her blackened quarterstaff and prodded the large, unconscious man on the floor. “And I don’t believe we have the time to discuss it at the moment.”

“Fair enough. The guards should be along to pick him up shortly.” Grim flipped over the final card, letting it rest sideways. “You twist Future like that, right?”

Mira nodded. A twirling figure surrounded by lights was on the card. “Correct. The Dance. Whatever you’re up to will be quite profitable, so long as you can keep up with events. If you falter, things will spin out of control and end badly.”

“Well that can describe just about anything.”

Mira grinned. “Exactly.”

Grim let out a short laugh in response, before waving at the guards that had just entered. “Oi! Over here!” She gestured down at the unconscious figure as the guards picked their way through the ruined tea shop. Shattered tables and porcelain lay scattered about, as did scattered piles of ash. When the guards reached the prone figure, one of them spoke. “So, what happened here?”

Mira placed her teacup on the table. “This individual made a large number of poor decisions in a short span of time, and I… enlightened him.”

The Return of J'zar

Blinking in the brightness, J’zar stepped through the shimmering portal and found himself in the unfamiliar surroundings of the temple.

He had only a few moments to reflect on this before the sound of voices filtered through the doorway from the next room, some of them familiar. An unfamiliar voice was talking at the moment, which became more clear once he opened the wooden door adjoining the two rooms, coming face to face with his companions and an unfamiliar speaker whose back was to him.

“…and to be honest, I’m really quite baffled. I am extremely embarassed that we could simply lose a body like this. Such a thing has never…” the speaker trailed off at the expression on his audience’s faces, which (rather comically) crept into his face as well.

“Don’t look too hard for me. I seem to have found myself. Thanks for the care, doc.” He patted the priest on the shoulder, walking around the party and out to the street.

These were the little things in life you just had to savor.

Outside, he turned to face the group, feeling just a bit uncomfortable in his armor (which, he was pleased to note, wasn’t looted from his corpse. “Listen, I know you all have a lot of questions about what happened. I’m not sure, myself. Obviously I’m not being tormented in some pit of hell, so it seems I was sent back for a purpose. I wish I could tell you what that purpose was. Maybe in time I’ll find out, but I can promise you guys it wasn’t due to some demonic bargaining. I think. For now, let’s just continue on as we were. Care to tell me what happened?”

As the party filled him in, he took mental stock on his current situation. Deciding to play his cards close to his chest for the moment, he elected not to elaborate on the details of his guide until the picture became a little more clear to him. He was not a fan of surprises, and the mystery of his divine intervention was something he would simply have to investigate further.

The Adventures of Vex Part 3

Now that the frog is dead it is time to turn our attention towards the orc. This was one tough son of a bitch though. He managed to take our bear and one dog out of the fight in one single swing. Luckily we manage to kill him before he can fell anyone else. The old man goes around doing a bit of healing to everyone that needs it, including the other two people tied to the chairs. These guys are apparently members of the Jade Ravens. From what I can tell they are the other group the lady hired to protect her, they must be about as useful as the city watch. Speaking of WHY the heck aren’t they here yet, would it be too much of a bother to actually show up and be useful for a change?

The Jade Ravens aren’t in much shape to do anything, but they plead with us to find the rest of the comrades and rescue them. We are clearing out the rest of the house to ensure it is safe so we might as well see about reuniting the wonder rangers. So we head back downstairs to resume clearing the first floor. The next room on the list happens to be a pretty big trophy room, Serwen and I check the two doors closest to the entry way. I find some nice toilets and Serwin has found an absolutely luxurious bathtub. While we are checking out the room the rest of the party moves forward and discovers that there were three more frogs waiting to ambush us in this room. Combat in this room sucks, there isn’t much room to move around and everyone manages to crowd the areas in front of me. I was luckily able to get close to one and take him out of the fight before he caused too much harm though. Since I can’t reach the others I decide to hold fast by the basement door and make sure nothing gets the drop on us from there. Now if you didn’t think druids were eccentric enough ours comes over to the basement door and starts whispering the word friend to the wall beside me. Then he yells out, “the box is trapped.” Confused I look over to the wall and notice a dwarf hiding behind a secret door, unsure if he is an enemy I now have to watch two locations. After the room is cleared the lady comes over and points out that this dwarf is another wonder ranger. She also points out the broken box on the shelf that had potions in it before wonder dwarf here sprung the trap on it. I decide to stay back and watch the basement door while the group checks the first two rooms leading back to the front entry way. Luckily both of those rooms were empty.

As we head down the basement we here some strange laughing and the shrieks of a woman at the other end of the basement. As we move up the ground is covered in mud making progress much slower than we would have liked for. We finally turn the corner and see some posh frog sitting in a ballroom chair wearing a wooden crown, tilted at an angle for some reason. I’m not sure why they dragged the chair down or what is up with the dinky wooden crown, but it doesn’t take long to figure out why the woman was screaming. There is a pretty attractive woman dressed in nothing but a flimsy bed mostly see through bed sheet. I wonder if she is going to need help cleaning off all this mud, I’m sure that bathtub upstairs has more than enough room. Upon closer inspection she also appears to have silverware strapped to her under the sheet. This was about the time somebody yelled out, RUST MONSTER! Great not only do we have some sadistic bastard frog who gets off on torturing scantily clad women, but we also have something that wants to eat all of my weapons and armor. Thankfully most of the group ends up getting into the hallway before I do and they put a nice buffer of people between me and the rust monster. Not being the best of shot with my bow I decide to throw the steel shield I found earlier right at the rust monster’s feat. Thankfully that buys us a bit of time while the group basically crowds around stuff and pokes it to death. We slowly work our members farther into the room while dispatching the weaker enemies. King frog here has big mace and easily slaps us silly. He manages to take out Grim and the naked lady in one swing. Some how the frog gets covered with a swarm of rats, retreats out of the square, then the rats move onto wonder dwarf, they take this opportunity to tell him about their lord and savior Raxivort. The frog wastes no time in giving wonder dwarf a good thump to the face while he is busy being preached to by the rats. The lady decides to move up to the frog but only succeeds in catching the frogs club with her body. The situation is starting to get pretty dire and the adrenaline must have really kicked in. I managed to swing twice into king frog with the second swing going clear through him. Thankfully everyone was able to be healed, however the temple said that J’zar’s body just vanished. We must have found the only church who loses track of their corpses……

Session 12
Wormfall Part 3: Cleaning out the House

The Half-orc was killed.

Lavinia Vanderborn and two of the Jade Ravens (Tolin Kientai and Zan Oldavin) were resuscitated. Party headed downstairs to continue securing the building.

Three frogmen and the Jade Ravens dwarven druid Kaskus Kiel were encountered. The frogmen were dispatched. The party cleared out the rest of the floor. A untranslated book was found in the library. The party headed to the basement.

Two frogmen, a rust monster, a frogman chief, and a woman in a blanket covered with silverware were encountered. The monsters were eliminated. Blanket-woman turned out to be Liamae Teslikaria, the fourth and final member of the Jade Ravens.

The city guards arrived just in time to be too late. The party headed to The Dawnhouse to recover and be healed. J’zar’s body had been lost. Someone looking like J’zar was encountered.

In addition to recovered loot, the party received 100 plat (1000 gp) each and an increase in monthly pay to 200 gp/month.

The Adventures of Vex Part 2

So After dispatching the crazy kung fu lady who gets off on beating up old men, we quickly search them and find a ring that the J’zar ends up taking. Now pops over here says we should stabilize her and question her. I ask why not just take one of the underlings instead of the crazy kung fu lady that had dominated him into the fetal position. Apparently she is likely to know more info. We come to a compromise, we stabilize her, I put a manacle on one foot and hand, then stuff her into the barrel. Now this is about the time the city watch finally decides to stroll in, right after all the hard work is done. They demand an explanation, somebody shows them a badge of honor granted to the party previously. They don’t really seem to moved by it our our explanation of how the Lady is in danger. We threaten one of the at-st walkers with the barrel and he caves like his daddy issue box was just dug back up. Turns out one of the other noble families has it out for the lady as well. His confession is enough to convince the guard to let us carry on with our rescuing, we also tell him to gather some troops at the lady’s manor but I’m not going to hold my breath on their assistance.

We finally make it to the mansion only to see Astericles and his pet screaming semi incoherently about giant frogs. Now the funny part is where all the citizens participating in the festival are trying to correct him, saying worms since it is the wormsfall festival. We figured they’d be waiting for us on the first floor, especially after the gnome did some poking around of his own. So we decide to scale the mansion and enter in through the third floor. J’zar manages to pick the window lock and open the window. That is about when the stench hit, nothing like the fresh smell of swamp to tip you off that something about your plan has gone horribly wrong. That is about the time this half orc declares that we either drop our weapons or he kills the lady, man why can’t this be easy. J’zar tries to tell him that we know he is working for the other noble house which doesn’t seem to bother him. Whelp on to plan B. Tried to take a grappling arrow and launch it into the Lady’s chair but that damn orc managed to get to the window and cut our rope first. So there we are hanging from the window by one hand with J’zar on my shoulders. So J’zar pulls out his swords and tries to bullrush the orc. There might as well have been a wall in front of J’zar from the sound of J’zar running face first into the orc. Before I have any time to react I get showered in blood and J’zar makes a new friend with the ground. Note to self, the ground is not an ideal trust fall buddy. I try and pull myself up to grab the orc so I could pull him out of the window. As soon as I start pulling the window frame decides to give out and we go tumbling down to the ground.

Luckily I was only bruised a bit, nothing that couldn’t be solved with a bit of divine elbow grease. Pops takes J’zar’s corpse and runs off to the nearest temple while we prep to enter the mansion. We end up clearing most of the first floor, several frog men in the entry way get splattered on the walls. As we are clearing out the mansion Asterocles finds himself some new friends, maybe if he plays his hand right he can keep on of these dogs for a mount. As we move on past the banquet room we run into four frogs, one of which must have had like twelve cigars in his mouth at once. They don’t take kindly to our interruption and proceed engage us. The small ones are dispatched fairly effortlessly but their boss was no joke. Now don’t ask me where the bear came from because I’m still not 100% sure on that one. But in the middle of combat all I see is a bear come charging in and going toe to toe with the frogs. Did you know bears are really good at grappling? Thankfully they are because the big boss frog ended up being pinned by the pear while everyone else huddled around him and turned him into a giant green pin cushion.

We finally make it up to the third floor back to where the orc is setup at. We attempt to negotiate this time around showing him the letter from his boss who we saved back at kraken cove. Now I thought the penalty for disobeying a captain’s order was walking the plank, but apparently this orc must be a really good swimmer. He says fuck it and runs his weapon through the lady and turns his attention towards us. Our fluffems charges the big frog in the room while the rest of the group picks up their weapons and moves in. Once again we played stick the frog with the sharp objects while the bear tried to dance with him. Only this time the damn orc kept trying to cut in, so we have a frantic scramble to keep the bear alive while trying to dispatch the frog. Now I’m not too sure about the art of casting, but I’m going to assume that what happened to this frog was not what he had hoped for. He starts trying to cast a spell and I guess the concentration was just too much to handle. It looked as if he popped a blood vessel and just had a stream of blood shoot out of the side of his head. Guess that game of stick the green thing is over.

Session 11
Wormfall Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

Monk in the street had +1 ring of protection and some non-magical jade earrings.

Astericles and Franc enter the Vanderboren estate and beat up one frogman, then run from the other two outside.

J’zar and Vex meet him outside, J’zar scales the walls of the estate and unlocks the window. Peeking inside, he saw Levinia tied to a chair along with three other members of the estate, who are all unconscious and/or dead. Vex scales the wall with the help of a ladder and some rope. Half-ogre lieutenant sees J’zar, whacks him and tosses him out the window. Vex falls, but lives.

The party fight their way upstairs, through a number of frog-men, find a +1 repeating crossbow, and show the half-orc the letter after making it up to the top floor. Half-orc is unimpressed and do battle. Meanwhile Eabald takes J’zar’s body to the temple and cures himself from the barnacle infestation, and hightails it back to the Vanderboren estate just in time to rejoin the party.

Half-orc runs Levinia through and begins fighting the party. Eabald heals Levinia, who is still unconscious, and the party takes on the half-orc and another frogman.


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