BlindKobold
First Post
Chapter One
Ricket the goblin, in his never-ending quest to build the better machine, was in dire need of some swamp gas. Why he needed it, he wasn't quite sure... all he knew for certain was that it was combustible - explosively so. And that was a good thing, in the mind of a goblin.
Unfortunately, he his order of swamp gas hadn't some in. In fact, it was several weeks overdue. And to make matters, he was getting the run around from the dock workers. Finally, he went to see the Dock Foreman, the Shipper's Guild representative here in Rachet. Luckily, Wrenck the Dock Foreman was a goblin too and understood the necessity of timely receipt of swamp gas. But unluckily, he was at a loss to explain exactly what had happened to the ships coming from Bluefern. Three ships were overdue from Bluefern and Wenck had a lot of upset merchants waiting for the coveted blue dye which was made from an indigenous plant in the swamp near Bluefern.
So flustered was he, Wrenck decided to dip into the Guild's coffers and hire some mercenaries to check it out. Unfortunately, the normal crew wouldn't touch it, since there were rumors of a plague near Bluefern, but these new adventurers didn't have to know that. Nope... not at all. They seemed an unlikely lot... a goblin, a high elf and a orc... but hey, all he had to lose was a few hundred gold. And who knows, they might even find out what happened to the ships.
Ricket had talked his best friends into going with him to check out the missing ships - and to get some swamp gas, of course. His best friend, the big red-haired orc, came stalking along carrying his tree trunk of a club, along with his pointed-eared elven friend. The elf decided to buy a horse for the trip, figuring it would speed the trip. This was fine with Ricket, since that meant less walking.
Having bought food and supplies throughout the various shops in Rachet, the trio set out for the town of Bluefern. Within two days, they had moved outside the familiar surroundings of Rachet and its outlying villages to the barren road called the Coast Highway. Rachet found it curious that even though the road was called the “Coast Highway”, it wasn’t within eyeshot of the coast. Often, the road would pass miles from the coast, winding between the barren grass-covered hills of The Barrens.
After a few days, came to the turn off for Bael Mordan, or at least Ricket thought he remembered the dwarf talking about Bael Mordan. Continuing down the eastern fork of the road, the adventurers quickly saw the landscape changing from barrens to swamp land. The air grew thick and putrid while the landscape continued to get hot and moist. The hunting, which had been done by the big orc, was becoming increasingly difficult. Luckily, he managed to bash a large snake that slithered next to the road, through the foal waters of the Dustwallow.
As the days stretched on through the swamp, the trio ran across a small shack which appeared to be run by an old half-orc crone. She sold them some barrow weed to feed the horse, though the elf refused to give it to them without mixing it with their remaining feed. Nevertheless, the horse did seem happier from then on… if someone dazed. The old crone also offered some sort of healing drought, but the trio thought it better to pass on her “generous” offer.
A couple of days after leaving the crone’s shack, the three adventurers ran across a humanoid shape wandering through the swamp. With the thick mist, they couldn’t make out the exact shape and after calling out several times – with no answer – the elf open fired with his bow, bringing it down. Once they flipped over the corpse, they found it invested with some sort of red boils. There was some talk of the plague… perhaps something cooked up by the Scourge, but they dared take the body with them or examine it further without risking contamination. So before they left, the burned the body with some oil they had carried with them – wisely choosing not to let Ricket attempt to burn the body with his gunpowder.
Within a day, they had reached the outskirts of some sort of village. They found several abandoned shacks… some burned out, some with some sort of red mark on the door. They didn’t let the mystery dissuade them from their task and pushed on to further, finally reaching Bluefern by dark.
In Bluefern, they were met by a small contingent of militia on horseback. After explaining their purpose, they were escorted through the town to a large building that seemed to be some sort of meeting hall. There they were met by Lazarus, the mayor of Bluefern. He told them that no ships had reached them recently and some sort of sickness had been going around the town, which seemed to have started right after a visit from the miners in the south.
When questioned about checking on the lighthouse that protected the ships sailing for Bluefern, the mayor said that he had sent someone to check one the lighthouse over a week ago, but that they had not returned. When asked about sending someone else, the mayor confessed that they were having some problems with the local lizard-folk who inhabited the swamp on the peninsula, and that he needed all his militia to defend the town – especially with the strange sickness that seemed to be afflicting more and more people.
After some consideration, the trio decided to check out the lighthouse first, which was about a day and a half march through the swamp east of Bluefern. They gathered up some supplies and prepared to leave the short-lived comfort of Bluefern.
Ricket the goblin, in his never-ending quest to build the better machine, was in dire need of some swamp gas. Why he needed it, he wasn't quite sure... all he knew for certain was that it was combustible - explosively so. And that was a good thing, in the mind of a goblin.
Unfortunately, he his order of swamp gas hadn't some in. In fact, it was several weeks overdue. And to make matters, he was getting the run around from the dock workers. Finally, he went to see the Dock Foreman, the Shipper's Guild representative here in Rachet. Luckily, Wrenck the Dock Foreman was a goblin too and understood the necessity of timely receipt of swamp gas. But unluckily, he was at a loss to explain exactly what had happened to the ships coming from Bluefern. Three ships were overdue from Bluefern and Wenck had a lot of upset merchants waiting for the coveted blue dye which was made from an indigenous plant in the swamp near Bluefern.
So flustered was he, Wrenck decided to dip into the Guild's coffers and hire some mercenaries to check it out. Unfortunately, the normal crew wouldn't touch it, since there were rumors of a plague near Bluefern, but these new adventurers didn't have to know that. Nope... not at all. They seemed an unlikely lot... a goblin, a high elf and a orc... but hey, all he had to lose was a few hundred gold. And who knows, they might even find out what happened to the ships.
Ricket had talked his best friends into going with him to check out the missing ships - and to get some swamp gas, of course. His best friend, the big red-haired orc, came stalking along carrying his tree trunk of a club, along with his pointed-eared elven friend. The elf decided to buy a horse for the trip, figuring it would speed the trip. This was fine with Ricket, since that meant less walking.
Having bought food and supplies throughout the various shops in Rachet, the trio set out for the town of Bluefern. Within two days, they had moved outside the familiar surroundings of Rachet and its outlying villages to the barren road called the Coast Highway. Rachet found it curious that even though the road was called the “Coast Highway”, it wasn’t within eyeshot of the coast. Often, the road would pass miles from the coast, winding between the barren grass-covered hills of The Barrens.
After a few days, came to the turn off for Bael Mordan, or at least Ricket thought he remembered the dwarf talking about Bael Mordan. Continuing down the eastern fork of the road, the adventurers quickly saw the landscape changing from barrens to swamp land. The air grew thick and putrid while the landscape continued to get hot and moist. The hunting, which had been done by the big orc, was becoming increasingly difficult. Luckily, he managed to bash a large snake that slithered next to the road, through the foal waters of the Dustwallow.
As the days stretched on through the swamp, the trio ran across a small shack which appeared to be run by an old half-orc crone. She sold them some barrow weed to feed the horse, though the elf refused to give it to them without mixing it with their remaining feed. Nevertheless, the horse did seem happier from then on… if someone dazed. The old crone also offered some sort of healing drought, but the trio thought it better to pass on her “generous” offer.
A couple of days after leaving the crone’s shack, the three adventurers ran across a humanoid shape wandering through the swamp. With the thick mist, they couldn’t make out the exact shape and after calling out several times – with no answer – the elf open fired with his bow, bringing it down. Once they flipped over the corpse, they found it invested with some sort of red boils. There was some talk of the plague… perhaps something cooked up by the Scourge, but they dared take the body with them or examine it further without risking contamination. So before they left, the burned the body with some oil they had carried with them – wisely choosing not to let Ricket attempt to burn the body with his gunpowder.
Within a day, they had reached the outskirts of some sort of village. They found several abandoned shacks… some burned out, some with some sort of red mark on the door. They didn’t let the mystery dissuade them from their task and pushed on to further, finally reaching Bluefern by dark.
In Bluefern, they were met by a small contingent of militia on horseback. After explaining their purpose, they were escorted through the town to a large building that seemed to be some sort of meeting hall. There they were met by Lazarus, the mayor of Bluefern. He told them that no ships had reached them recently and some sort of sickness had been going around the town, which seemed to have started right after a visit from the miners in the south.
When questioned about checking on the lighthouse that protected the ships sailing for Bluefern, the mayor said that he had sent someone to check one the lighthouse over a week ago, but that they had not returned. When asked about sending someone else, the mayor confessed that they were having some problems with the local lizard-folk who inhabited the swamp on the peninsula, and that he needed all his militia to defend the town – especially with the strange sickness that seemed to be afflicting more and more people.
After some consideration, the trio decided to check out the lighthouse first, which was about a day and a half march through the swamp east of Bluefern. They gathered up some supplies and prepared to leave the short-lived comfort of Bluefern.