Rise of the Runelords

1

On the way, Ameiko told them what Tsuto had told her - an incredible story, for those who lived in Sandpoint. He claimed that he and several other mercenaries were led by Nualia, the adopted daughter of the prior high priest in Sandpoint, presumed killed in the fire that claimed her father's life and burned down the old cathedral years ago. Those from town knew Nualia to be a girl of almost unearthly beauty, thought by many to have been blessed by Desna.
It seemed she had some sort of big plan for Sandpoint's future, and Tsuto had come to warn Ameiko that she didn't want to be in town when those plans came through. "He wanted to recruit me," Ameiko said, disbelief in her voice even as she glanced back at where Tsuto was being carried. "Obviously, he didn't like my answer."
Again, the halfling gave an involuntary twitch. She had mourned Nualia and her father with the rest of Sandpoint, and unlike the case with Tsuto(whom she'd made a point of not looking at on the return trip), she could not conjecture as to the source of a grudge so potent that the town would be marked by it. When she looked at her home community, she saw some flaws and shady characters, but such imperfections on a gem just gave it character, right? In reality, she had doubts that the Nualia mentioned was the glorified one in her memories at all.
When it came to the half-elf, however, the bard was still appalled that anyone could treat their own family with such callous spite. It was unfair to Ameiko, and oddly enough, unfair for Tsuto that this happened. Monsters like Ameiko's brother were made, after all, and Bergi's well-meaning contributions to the half-elf's life experience had been less than helpful. The man's father had also been less than a saint in regards to the bastard child. Not that she felt Tsuto should be spared of the consequences of his actions. Ameiko deserved better, the glassworkers deserved better, and Andok should still be breathing.
Hells, she still had to tell Robban's poor father that his son lay dead. Hopefully, she could actually go through with it without losing her voice. Reminded of her last verbal rescue, Bergi shot an earnest smile in the cleric's direction before turning her attention back to the innkeeper.
"Ameiko, you dropped this." Bergi reached back to remove the hairclasp she'd fortuitously come upon earlier. She held it aloft, all the while thinking that Ameiko could use a better one after all this.
"Thank you, Bergi." Ameiko plucked the hair clasp from the halfling's upraised hand, looking down at her fondly. "I'd hate to have lost this, but I figured all that head-shaking was worth it if someone found out where I'd gone!" She smoothed back her tousled hair, clipping the clasp so that the worst of it was out of her face.
Quickfoot listened intently to all that Ameiko had to say, and even thanked her offer of residence at the Rusty Dragon with a shy smile. "Thank you Ameiko, I'll try not to do anything to make you regret it." Ameiko gave him a sidelong glance at this questionable statement, but then shook her head with a wry smile.
"I believe I promised you a favor for aiding Ameiko as well, didn't I, Quickfoot?" Bergi asked, looking up at the rogue. "Not that you needed the incentive, but I'm happy you came."
"-and not to be too forward, but can I have my ribbon back? I'll lend it to you anytime, but it has sentimental value."
As they left the beach cliff, the young elf helped himself to Tsuto's bow and arrows, as well as the set of tools, mumbling to himself, "These are much nicer than mine." Still, he was wary of Ameiko's brother, and kept an arrow on the string of his new weapon, hoping that the threat would be enough to keep Tsuto from attempting to escape.
Hrolfr was not especially talkative after having man-handled the unconscious half-elf out of the bushes. He seemed apprehensive, bordering on paranoid, his gaze between the group's prisoner and their surroundings.

2

Ameiko shivered as they passed the branches in the tunnel. "I had no idea all this was down here. I wonder where the other tunnels go?"
As usual, Quickfoot's attention was drawn off by what he saw, and after Ameiko mentioned the tunnels, he almost went down again, his wanderlust and curiosity almost more than he could resist. "I'll come back, and see where they lead, and what treasures they hide." he promised himself.
His rage somewhat cooled, Meklok kept step with Ameiko as they walked down the tunnels.
"Ameiko, yes? This seems a bad time to be sharing names, but... I am Meklok. I want you to know I'm sorry for your loss. I arrived after the battle in the glassworks, but I understand the pain you must feel.
Bergi agreed with Meklok's assessment. It was a terrible time to be sharing names, but at least she now knew his.
Meklok continued, "I was wondering... Obviously, he must stand trial, according to your laws. But... might we not question him first? Lowlander courts are so slow, by the time they learn anything from him it may be too late. This Nualia may be enacting her plans now. He is your brother, so I submit to your authority. May we have some time with him to find out what they intend for this town? I swear on the Totems that no permanent harm will come to him."
Ameiko bit her lip, glancing at Tsuto again. "I agree that it's necessary, but don't you think the Sheriff should be there? I know he'd want to know about... about Nualia's plans, too." She faltered over Nualia's name, obviously still having a hard time believing the dead girl was alive, much less leading a bunch of thugs against Sandpoint.
Meklok shrugged in a non-committal way. "That's up to you, Ameiko. I will proceed how you feel is best. "
"Oh, but the sheriff is leaving town with Shalelu. In the morning, I think... We were going to meet the woman at the Dragon tonight, actually."
Desperate to find some cheerful news for her friend, Bergi looked up again. "Yeah! Shalelu's in town, Ameiko. She's probably excited to see you!"
"Shalelu's back so soon? That's good news... I hope," Ameiko mused. She spared a smile for her friend, but Bergi could see that the unfolding events made it hard for Ameiko to make it heartfelt. "But if the Sheriff is leaving, we should get Tsuto to him right away."

3

There was no masking the abbatoir stench of the Glassworks, and Ameiko emerged from having taken a look at the carnage and her father's glass tomb with a pale face. Robban's father, as Bergi had predicted, was inconsolable at the news of his son's death. Ameiko tried to comfort him along with Bergi, raising her eyes to catch the gaze of the rest of the party and gesture for them to go on with the still-sleeping Tsuto. Curious villages stopped to stare at the strange procession.
As Ameiko emerged from the Glassworks, Hrolfr approached with a sad (and slightly awkward) look on his face. "I'm sorry about your father...and your brother as well. Blood bonds are....should be sacred, and no man should lift his hand against his own." He starts to say something else, but changes his mind and looks uncomfortable for a moment before taking his leave. Amismara observed a sad silence, but placed a comforting hand on Hrolfr's shoulder as he passed.
"Thank you, Hrolfr," Ameiko said, new tears in her eyes as she looked at her still-sleeping brother.
After the group emerged from the tunnels, Quickfoot remembered the book that had slipped from Tsuto's shirt during the fight, and careful to keep out of the murderous half-elf's view, he opened it and began to peruse the contents.
It was a thin journal, no more than two dozen pages thick, but bound with leather that had saved the parchment from being burnt too badly by Meklok's fire. Opening it revealed the pages to be filled with maps of Sandpoint and erotic drawings of what could only be Nualia - Quickfoot recognized her well enough, though on one of the last pages she was drawn as some kind of devil-girl. On closer examination, the maps proved to depict different attack plans. The first set showed the plans for a group of 30 goblins, one of which was circled. The next several pages illustrated an assault on Sandpoint by a force of 200 goblins. None of these were circled, and many were scratched out, as though they'd been rejected. Quickfoot found three passages of particular interest:

The party took Tsuto to the garrison, where they found the Sheriff had already left town. Nevertheless, a quick explanation was enough to gain Tsuto a barred cell in the underground jail, watched over by the scarred hulk of a Shoanti jailor, Vachedi.
Before long Ameiko and Bergi arrived, looking a bit wrung out.
The Shoanti looked up as Bergi led in the recently rescued woman. Quietly, he murmured to Hrolfr "Do we really want her watching this?".
Once Tsuto was safely behind bars, Quickfoot motioned for the others to join him outside and said, "Ah, I think the rest of you might want to have a look at this journal that Tsuto dropped. That is, if you're interested in a 200 goblin raid, or quasits with freaks in the smuggling tunnels below the Glassworks. Then there's this bit about Nualia getting a new body from the Mother of Monsters. Oh, and there's bugbears, and something about Tobyn's casket, and a shrine at Thistletop, and demons and something about releasing a Malfesh... Malfeshnekor, whatever that is. Does any of this make any sense to any of you?" Quickfoot also attempts to sneak Bergi's ribbon back into her pocket without her noticing.
During Quickfoot's rushed summary, the exhausted halfling suddenly adopted an upright posture. As was her practice, Bergi brought her thumbs up to her temples as she tried to make sense out of all that the rogue said. Internally, she fought to recall any ballad, any play, or any conversation she'd ever overheard or partaken in that would provide clues the others could use.
The mention of a quasit sent cold shivers down her back. She could recall a story of a foolish man who summoned such a demon for personal gain, but in the end, after the monster had flown about at his behest only to corrupt him and blacken his soul, he died a painful death at its poisonous claws even as he fled from room to room of his mansion, unable to see his tormentor.
To hear the name of Lamashtu invoked did not improve things. She knew the Mother of Monsters to be a popular goddess among, well, monsters, and that the evil deity was an enemy of Desna, but unlike most others, she also knew of darker lore, stories that told how the foul goddess tore out her own womb and feasted upon it to gain power over the unborn, then regenerated her own flesh by consuming a thousand stolen infants. It was said her milk could sustain, poison or even transform those who drank it. Tales told of how Lamashtu stole the seed of sleeping men and used it to create half-breed monsters which she sent to shame and wound their fathers. When there was a stillbirth or an infant had deformities, it was said that Lamashtu had touched or breathed on them - and that those who suffered such a touch were plagued by nightmares. In all, Bergi knew more than she wanted to about that fiendish goddess.
Perhaps understandably, she had never listened to the stories of bugbear depredations, though now she wished she had. But what really burned her noggin was the tantalizing, but faint, memory of someone having mentioned a tale in which a woman had woken up in a new body... it dangled teasingly at the corner of her mind, refusing to become concrete.
However, all this ruminating wasn't quite enough to keep her from noticing a light touch as Quickfoot wandered behind her. Looking down, she found her missing ribbon tucked mostly into her pocket.
Ameiko looked shaken by the news Quickfoot had imparted on them - even the grim Vachedi seemed taken aback.
"Nualia? The child touched by Desna, who died during the Late Unpleasantness?" Vachedi rumbled in disbelief. "That's nonsense. Must be someone else."
Ameiko had taken the journal and was staring at it in horror. "Oh, Tsuto," she whispered, "how could you fall so low?" She passed the booklet on to someone else, covering her eyes with a hand as she leaned against the dank stone wall.
Hrolfr took Tsuto's journal from Ameiko's hand. He took one look at it, and his already angry look is replaced by one of disgust and hatred. He quickly passed the booklet on, as if it burned his hands. "Witchcraft!" he mutters. "Foul sorcery! What sort of man is this that stoops to lying with demons.".
"This isn't good. Not at all." Bergi sputtered once Ameiko and Meklok had finished reading, taking a turn to scan through the journal's pages. She wasted little time on the attack plans and moved immediately into the text. This was the first she'd learned about the theft and desecration of Father Tobyn's remains, and she nearly dropped the book. The illustrations of Nualia had nearly an identical effect.
"We're going to be dealing with demons, then." Bergi handed the journal off to the next in line, hands shaking. "The mentioned quasit is one. A demon, I mean� and one that can conceal itself completely, has poisonous claws and can fly. If it has friends that aren't goblins, I don't know what� what we would be looking at."
Bergi took a couple of restless steps. "There are the other names, too� Ripnugget , Bruthazmus, and whatever in the abyss Malfeshnekor is. If they're goblins, maybe Shalelu will know something. Likewise, she might know where the base would be� I would think Thistletop, as Tsuto mentioned it a few times and that is where the Mother of Monsters has her shrine�Unless we wish to speak of Lamashtu's depredations, though, that's all I've to tell."
Done drawing attention to herself, the bard grew quiet and withdrew to Ameiko and the wall, tugging her ribbon out of her pocket to retie her hair.
"Thanks for returning this, Quickfoot," she murmured, looking to the rogue briefly before going back to simply listening to the proceedings.
Having left the sleeping Tsuto trussed up for interrogation in the cell, Meklok looked at the journal with the others. "This might be all we need. Tsuto was a tough bastard to beat, getting him to talk may waste time. Could we find their base from this book? We could leave the scum to the guards."
"Your thoughts of haste match my heart, Meklok." She gave a respectful bow to the thin Shoanti. "However, his knowledge of the raid might be useful. Perhaps we have more time than my fear of the attack allows." She took a moment to gather her thoughts. "I would suggest a quick interrogation, focused on tricking him into giving up the timing for the raid."
She walked over to peer at the journal being held by Quickfoot. "There are details in this journal about both the Thistletop goblins and a quasit. I assume that the Thistletop goblins are one of the many who have lairs in the region. But it appears the quasit is in the tunnels below the Glassworks, and perhaps this Nualia as well? If so, we might need to deal with them first, before leaving the town to search for another goblin lair." She left unspoken her memories of the last time they hunted down a goblin lair...and lost other friends.
Hrolfr took up position near the cell door, arms crossed. "I'll do it, but someone else should play the nice one"
"I could try, but I'd be just as happy to aid Amismara if she wished to do this." The halfling cocked her head towards the cleric. "I'm not trying to force or volunteer you, Amismara, but your head seems a bit more level than mine, and Tsuto rather hates me, see, and for good reason."
The aforementioned reasons included the beehive incident, the fiasco with the tallow candle, and, of course, the instance where all parties involved found out about someone's particularly potent allergy to the local shellfish.
"Then again, maybe he's at that point where he doesn't feel anything but the same hate for anyone he's not 'involved' with. Say the word, and I'll do all I can."
The cleric nodded at Bergi. "I'll give it a try." She turned to join Hrolf and placed a hand on his crossed arms. "Let me do the talking, at least at first. Your quiet presence will be threat enough, I'll wager."
"Or I could aid you. In fact, I have some spells that might persuade Tsuto to speak with us, provided I have time to rest and regain my composure" Calvio said.
"I imagine we all are at our rope's nub, yes? Perhaps if our friends cannot get anything out of Tsuto, you could try again after sleep." Bergi stood behind Amismara, ready to aid in her efforts or make herself scarce if necessary.
"You are both wise, and I we should follow. Let Hrolfr and I try, and see what happens. If we are unsuccessful, we can rely on Calvio on the morrow." Amismara said.

4

As the rest of the group discussed possible methods of interrogating Tsuto, Quickfoot slipped off as unobtrusively as possible and headed toward the general store, hoping that his new status as one of the Heroes of Sandpoint would help him to reclaim some of his parents' belongings.
Ven Vinder frowned as soon as he saw Quickfoot enter his store. "You again? I warned you not to come in here again, remember? My wares are for people who can pay for them." Though his words were gruff, he made no move to oust the elf.
Quickfoot put on his winningest smile as he sauntered up to the counter before leaning on his elbow while idly toying with some of the items on it. "Venn!" he gasped with obviously feigned outrage, "Is that any way to talk to an old friend? Especially one who just saved the lovely Ameiko from her own brother's dastardly plans? You can have the whole tale! Surely that's better than something as prosaic as coin! All I ask is my mother's journal. Surely that's a fair trade."
Quickfoot's words caught the attention of the general store's customers, who turned to watch the elf with interest. Vinder's expression softened at Quickfoot's mention of his mother, and he gave an exaggerated sigh. "So that's what you're after. All right, all right. You tell your tall tale to my paying customers - there now, don't touch that - and I'll give you what you want. Keep an eye on him, eh?" he added to the customer standing first in line - old Bill Grump, a farmer. Grump chuckled and nodded, winking at Quickfoot.
With that, Vinder wandered into the back of his shop, disappearing through a door. Grump and the other customers watched Quickfoot expectantly.
The young elf returned old Bill's wink with a grin and a raised eyebrow, inwardly chuckling that one half his age should be known as old.
"Well, I'm sure Mistress Bergi will make a ballad of our adventures fit for the ages, but hopefully I can do the tale justice in the meantime."
Quickfoot stood a bit taller, resting his hand on the pommel of his rapier and clearing his throat before he began.
"All of you must know by now that there were events at the Glassworks, and now, I must tell the horrible tale. When I saw the Heroes of Sandpoint entering that horrid place, and having to break down the door at that, well, I knew they would need my help. So I followed them, swift as a deer, silent as a shadow. And what horror awaited me. Everyone was dead! And everywhere, there was carnage. They've come again, those horrid goblins that ruined the Festival, but in greater numbers this time! Everywhere was broken glass, and the blood of our friends and neighbors. The Heroes fought valiantly, though some fell. Fortunately, I was there to help, and another too. Calvio is his name and he brought mighty magic to bear to aid us.
We slew the goblins and found their secret tunnel, under the Glassworks, through the living rock. Fortunately, our good Dwarf Aeric lead us safely through the darkness, though there was a wrong turn or two, and we emerged on the shore, only to see Tsuto carrying off Ameiko with another band of goblins. There is no doubt, they followed his orders, but we made swift work of them. Hrolfr and my arrows did for some of them, then there was bloody work with blade and axe! Meklok summoned sorcerous flames, and Amismara blessed us and kept us fighting though all of us took wounds. Bergi almost sacrificed herself to save the rest of us, and inspired us to great feats of courage. Tsuto commanded the high ground and we could not approach but one at a time. Still, we perservered and won the day, and now Miss Ameiko is safe and Tsuto rots in the goal. But the danger is not passed! We will protect the town though, have no fear!"
The people in the general store, townsfolk and traveler alike, gaped at Quickfoot, their faces pale. Even unshakeable old Farmer Grump looked, well, shaken.
"There are goblins tunneling under the town?!"
"Everyone in the Glassworks is dead? What about Joon and Maky, are they dead?!"
"Oh my gods, are we still in danger?! What's going to happen?"
"My cousin was crippled by goblins at the Festival!"
"Where are the Heroes? Has anybody seen them?"
"Is Ameiko all right? I never trusted that Tsuto!"
A child clutching her mother's hand started to cry, and the alarmed customers gabbled anxious questions, some of them rushing out of the store. Vinder's wife Solsta tried in vain to calm them down, but they surrounded Quickfoot, demanding answers and details.
"QUIET!" Vinder boomed, managing to shush most of the noise. Scowling at Quickfoot, he thrust a book into the elf's arms. "I should have known someone like you would get in league with those so-called Heroes. Take your damn book, and don't you or they ever come in here again." Raising his voice, he addressed the townsfolk. "Now, you know there hasn't been any sign of goblins tunneling under the town, so just take it easy. For all we know, he was just spinning a tall tale in bad taste. All the same, you may want to pay Savah a visit and arm yourselves. No goblins are going to drive us out of our town!"
The townsfolk seemed to take heart at this, and some scurried off (perhaps to Savah's Armory) while others hurried to make their purchases at the counter, still talking in low, urgent voices.
Quickfoot took his time checking through the book to make sure none of the pages were ruined before looking back up at the shopkeeper, his normal smile replaced by a cold, hard look. "I don't know what you have against us Vinder, and frankly, I don't care. I'll stay out of your shop; I know when I'm not welcome. But you had best keep a civil tongue in your head when you talk to me. Get to Savah yourself if you know what's good for you. There is worse coming to Sandpoint, and I wouldn't see any citizens harmed, even the foolishly rude ones."
Vinder's scowl deepened, and he gave Quickfoot a flat stare. "So, threats and insults are what I get for giving you that book I should have sold off long ago? You're a fine match for those 'Heroes,' that's for certain. Now get out before I throw you out."
With those words, Quickfoot stalked off, stopping at the theater to gather the rest of his personal effects before returning to the jail.
Once inside, he pulled one of the others aside so they could bring him up to speed on their progress with the interrogation of Tsuto.

5

Hrolfr approached the Shoanti jailer. "I need some rope and some irons...and a bucket of water". Having fetched the items he needed, he entered Tsutos cell, clamping his hands in irons before cutting the makeshift bonds they used to tie Tsuto at the top of the cliff. He tied the rope to the chains, and tried to find some hook or crossbar to use to throw the rope over for hauling the prisoner upwards.
As he finished his preparations, he looked towards Amismara, looking for a sign of her being ready to proceed. Having reassured himself they were ready to go on with the interrogation, he doused the unconcious Tsuto with cold water, then signalled to the others to haul the prisoner to his feet.
While Amismara talked, he stood back, arms crossed, with a smouldering look on his face. After what Tsuto did, he didn't even have to pretend.
Tsuto woke spluttering from Calvio's magic, gasping with the pain of his wounds being pulled as the party hauled him to his feet. Ameiko, who had been standing by with her arms folded tightly and her lips compressed, suddenly burst out, "Why did you do this, Tsuto? How could you?!"
Tsuto glared at her, water still dripping from him. "I came back to save you, but I should've known you'd take their side. You're no different than the rest of them." Turning his glare on the party, he added, "You'll all get what's coming to you."
"No, your failure means that we'll have time to prepare for and repulse any threat to Sandpoint. The several days required to bring help from Magnimar will be sufficient. All that remains to be seen is the fate of the plotters. Some of them might still be saved, and mercy shown. And this is where you can still influence the outcome, Tsuto. And before you reject me in anger, remember that it is one thing to throw away your own life on a lost cause, but quite another to consign someone you love to such a fate."
Amismara moved in and looked upon Tsuto with compassion. "Help defend the town by telling us more about the threat, and we'll help to save the one you love. Don't make her pay for your failure. And don't forget that redemption is not beyond either of you. Imagine a future with the two of you together, alive, not buried and forever apart. Shelyn smiles on those who prove their passion through life, not meaningless death." She placed a kind hand on his shoulder. "Help us, Tsuto."
"Defend this town?!" Tsuto laughed derisively. "I'll dance in its ashes! But you seem like a well-meaning girl, so I'll give you some free advice. Take my stupid sister and get out while you can. There's nothing you can do to stop what's coming. My love isn't the one who needs saving."
"Tsuto!" Ameiko gasped, "You don't mean that! The people here have done nothing to hurt you!"
Tsuto shook his head in bitter disgust. "Easy for you to say, sis. You're not the one who grew up in Turandarok. You always had it easy. People like you. You don't know what it was like." He fell silent, perhaps brooding over his childhood at the town's school-orphanage.
"You're right. We don't know what it was like or how you felt, Tsuto, but grant us this: Amismara and Ameiko are trying to help you now. Just give us something to stave off the hangman's noose." Bergi had pulled her face out from behind Amismara long enough just to say those words before darting back behind the cleric.
Tsuto's face contorted in a familiar look of disgust and seething anger at Bergi. "That's what it comes down to, isn't it. My own sister and her little court jester, leaving me to the wolves. Well, I'm not afraid to die." He glowered at Bergi and the others, his jaw clamped shut so hard they could see the muscles in his temples flex.
Amismara turned to look at Hrolfr. Her look said "Your turn. Try to intimidate, but don't hurt him."
Hrolfr walked slowly towards the prisoner, leaning towards his ear. In hushed, gravelly tones he uttered: "Not afraid to die, eh? I guess we'll see how brave you are after the villagers are through with you. Although....They may let you rot in here, just to let you watch when they catch your little girlfriend. They're scouring the tunnels as they speak..."
Tsuto gave Hrolfr a flat stare, but didn't speak. Instead, he actually smirked a little.
As Hrolfr saw Tsuto's reaction, his temper flared for an instant, although he did his best to conceal it. Tsuto was obviously a tough customer, who had been through a few things, and Hrolfr could relate to Tsuto's strained relationship with his father on some level. In order to get the information they needed, however, he would have to keep his head and find the right levers to press. Pity would have to wait. He jerked himself away, talking down to the prisoner while pacing back and forth:
"You think me funny, do you? We'll find your demonic bitch, don't you worry. And when we do, I will make it my personal mission to make sure she falls. Maybe the priests will try to change her back somehow, you know how priests are. They might start by chopping off her demon arm, you know, to stop the rot from spreading. The wings will have to go, obviously, probably we'll have to get a sharp saw ... although we'll probably won't find one and have to make do with a rusty old blunt one. I'm still trying to decide whether we'll let you watch or ... On second thought, I think we'll hang you first. I prefer beheading myself, according to the ways of my people, but a sharp axe is too good for you. We'll hang you from the nearest tree, and then when you're done dangling and your pants are full of shit, we'll burn whatever is left of you to make sure no one ever raises you from the dead. And then.."
Hrolfr got back down to eye level with the prisoner, his tone both condescending and threatening. "...when I'm standing over whatever remains of your little wench, I'll make sure she knows that it was you that sold her out. Not that I think you will, mind you, but won't that be a nice last memory. " He stood back up again.
Tsuto's gaze boiled with hatred as he glared at Hrolfr. "She knows I'd never do that. And I don't know how it is up in your barbarian lands, but here people get a trial, not a summary execution. Even if my sister has nothing to say," he snarled, and Ameiko dropped her gaze to the floor, "the Sheriff has too much of a stick up his ass to let anyone do things any other way." Vachedi scowled and gave the chains holding Tsuto up a jerk, making the burned half-elf wince, but Tsuto kept his hateful eyes on Hrolfr.
Amismara sighed with a deep sadness, walked over and placed a calming hand on Hrolfr's shoulder. "Let us not forget our goodness in the face of his evil. We have things we can do to help Sandpoint without his cooperation." With that, she beckoned Hrolfr and Bergi to leave the room.
Hrolfr's expression mildened at Amismara's touch. "I pity you. Making deals with devils for personal gain is one thing....being so hopelessly blinded by one is another. I hope you come to your senses before more blood is on your hands." With that, he turned around and followed Amismara out of the room.
The halfling trailed out of the room with Amismara and Hrolfr, sparing pained glances at the Tian siblings. She wanted to drag Ameiko along, too, but knew better than to try to force her will on the innkeeper if the woman wanted to stay. Tsuto was unafraid of death, but there was a mountain of evidence to ensure it would come for him. That fact, combined with the rest of the harrowing day, left Bergi uncharacteristically hushed.

6

As Bergi had expected, Ameiko stayed behind to try to plead sense into Tsuto. Above the garrison's jail, people rushed about, not actually panicking, but clearly worried about the rumors that had sprung up like toadstools after a rain.
Thinking of rain seemed to summon it; clouds darkened the midday sunlight that had warmed them, the weather already noticeably cooler than it had been at the Festival. Back at the Rusty Dragon, Bethana Corwin all but leapt into their arms, too beside herself with worry to be discreet.
"Is Ameiko all right? Desna preserve us, are those bloodstains on your clothes? What happened?!" The old halfling blinked at the new members of the party, particularly Quickfoot and Calvio. "New friends?" she queried, looking at Bergi. "And where is Andok? Oh, but please tell me, what has happened to Ameiko?!" Other members of the staff stared, some coming closer to hear what was going on. Clearly it was the first they'd heard of something being wrong, and they looked quite worried at the idea of that something being wrong with Ameiko.
"Ameiko is in one piece and breathing, Gran," Bergi replied quickly with a hoarse voice. "-and you were right about Tsuto. Man was up to no good, if ever there was wrongdoing to be done... Our friend did need a good rescuing from him..."
Mrs. Corwin sagged with relief, hopping up onto a nearby chair so that she could sit. She leaned back and fanned herself with one wrinkled old hand. "Oh, thank the gods! They must have sent you Heroes to her in her hour of need. I just knew that Tsuto was trouble!" The other staff members drew closer, neglecting their work to hear more. The old halfling held out her arms to Bergi, leaning down.
The bard gave her grandmother a hug and then stood back, gesturing to Calvio, Quickfoot, Aeric, and Meklok. "These fellows arrived when our need was mot dire... I really... I don't know if we would have made it otherwise. Andok... he... he didn't. Gronk is taking him home, now..."
There were gasps from the small crowd around them, and Mrs. Corwin's face wrinkled further with sorrow. She stood on her chair so that she could reach out and clasp Amismara's hand in hers. "That noble soul has certainly earned a place in the heavens," she said firmly. Eyeing the newcomers, she added, "The gods work in mysterious ways, and they have a place for all of us." She looked at each one of the party earnestly. "Thank you so much for what you've done. Heaven knows this town could use more heroes like yourselves! I'm sure Ameiko will tell us the rest of the story in time, so let's let the Heroes be and get back to work!" She clapped her hands, and the barmaids and cooks scattered again, whispering among themselves.
Mrs. Corwin climbed down and pinched Bergi's cheek. "I always knew your future would be great," she whispered proudly before hurrying off to work.
The bard's color came back a little with this praise. Her grandmother, despite how it might have seemed to her already-heroic companions, often spared such validation so that it had more potency when given.

7

With Bergi's directions to guide him, Hrolfr soon located Savah's Armory on the corner of High Street and Tower Street, which he had been told would be his best bet to find a longsword. The large building appeared to have been scorched on its northeast side, but the damage looked older than the events at the Festival.
A light drizzle had just begun as Hrolfr entered the shop. A surprising array of weapons and armor was laid out on tables and stands along the walls, and a number of customers were discussing possible purchases with themselves and the owner, a red-headed woman with a ready smile and an engaging manner.
When Hrolfr came in, she glanced his way and then beamed, raising her voice. "If it isn't Hrolfr the Rover, one of the Heroes of the Swallowtail Festival!" The customers looked his way as Savah excused herself from those she had been speaking with and made her way over. "It's an honor to meet you, Hrolfr. I'm Savah Bevaniky, owner and proprietor of the Armory. What can I help you with today?"
"Is there really an army of goblins living under Sandpoint?" One of the customers, a pudgy merchant by the look of him, interrupted.
"Are you Heroes going to protect us?" A woman demanded to know, putting down the sharp knife she was holding to come closer.
As the villagers clamored around Hrolfr, his initial surprise was quite obvious. In a few moments, however, he quickly regained his mental balance and put up his hands in an attempt to be heard. "It's true that there was a raid on the Glassworks, which cost the lives of Lord Kajitsu and some of the workers, and that the raid was carried out by a goblin band. We followed them through the tunnels and out onto the beach, where we slew them. We didn't look through all the tunnels, but we didn't see any more of them down there. That needs to be checked. You all need to keep calm and keep your wits about you, and if you see or hear anything suspicious, go talk to the sheriff or someone who you know. I intend to stay here and help keep the town safe, at least for now. I can't speak for the others, but they have had plenty of reasons to travel elsewhere and so far they haven't." He stopped talking, looked like he was looking for more to say but didn't
There were more questions in the same vein, but Savah raised her arms and her voice to quiet them down. "I'm sure Hrolfr is here looking for a fine weapon to protect us from any monsters you can think of. Still, it's wise to be able to protect the ones you love yourself, isn't it? And that's why even the Heroes of Sandpoint shop here at the Armory, for the finest of weapons."
Turning back to Hrolfr with a twinkle in her gray-green eyes, she raised an eyebrow. "So, just what kind of weapons or armor are you looking for?"
Finally, a question he could relate to. "Well Mistress Savah, I'm looking for a full-sized blade that I can wield in one hand..." He went on to describe the broad-bladed longswords of his homeland, listening to Savah's proposals and trying out the different swords.
None of Savah's swords had quite the same heft as an Ulfen longsword, being made for "southerners" like her, but in the end they were able to find a reasonably heavy broadsword for him. It was nothing special, and had a few nicks from its prior owner's use, but Savah told him that since he was one of the Heroes of Sandpoint, she would knock 20% off the price. "Twelve gold for a good blade - a very reasonable price, wouldn't you say?" she asked, quickly adding when some other customers looked up, "Just for you Heroes."
Hrolfr took the proffered blade, swung it around a few times to get a feel for the heft and balance and looked along the edge to check whether it was straight. "Twelve gold sounds fair Mistress Savah. Throw in a whetstone so I can work out these nicks, and you've got yourself a deal.". For a moment, he gets a vacant look as if he is trying to remember something, and then bursts out "Gloves! How are you on thick leather gloves or gauntlets? If I'm going down into the tunnels to weasel out some more goblins, I'm going to be needing something the little devils can't bite through.
Having paid for the items (including a scabbard and belt for the sword), Hrolfr fastens the sword around his waist and walks with a slight swagger into the street. In his homeland, broadswords are a thane's weapon, while common soldier's use the axe or spear. He quickly shakes off this small moment of self-importance, but he is in an excellent mood when he gets out into the street.
He takes a look at his clothing (which bumps his humour down a notch). Although protected by his chain-mail shirt from the waist until mid-overarm, the sleeves and hem of his crimson tunic have rips from goblin claws and weapons. A parting gift from his mother, he feels regret for not having worn something a bit more practical while running around chasing goblins (not least because of memories of his mother chiding him on not wearing sunday clothes while climbing cliffs for bird's eggs or similar activities). He remembers having seen a store with clothing and sets out to buy some. He'll probably also have to buy some needle and thread to stictch up his tunic before stowing it aways, or he'll never hear the end of it when he gets back.
Hrolfr entered the shop under the sign reading, "Vernah's Fine Clothing." Bolts of cloth were displayed along the walls in great profusion, from simple wool in various colors to cotton and even a few bolts of shimmering silk. He was distracted from regarding them by the shopkeeper - a tall woman with large, dark eyes that gave her flawless beauty an exotic cast. She was hands down the most beautiful woman Hrolfr had ever seen.
"Welcome to my shop," she said with a wan smile. "I'm certainly glad that the rumors were wrong about your death, Hrolfr the Rover. I hope the rest was just wild imagination at work as well. My name is Rynshinn Povalli. I take it you've come to do something about this?" She glanced at his tattered tunic, already sizing him up. She brushed a loose strand of hair back over her ear, which Hrolfr realized came to a distinct point. "Is it a repair you're looking for, or perhaps new clothes entirely? If you only want this stitched, it can be ready by this evening, but if you need more you'll find I'm as quick with a needle and thread as any seamstress in Magnimar." She lifted her chin proudly with her last claim, as though daring him to argue.
Although Rynshinns self-confidence initially flusters Hrolfr, he quickly composes himself. "I, ah ... yes. Both. I'd like some new clothing, something durable but comfortable. For the road. A couple of shirts, maybe from this and this . I need new britches as well, thin supple leather. A similar tunic. And I'd like you to repair up my tunic. It was a gift, and I have not treated it respectfully, I'm afraid." His look turns slightly sorrowful, but he tries to hide it as well as he can. The fighting with the goblins around women and children remind him of trying times at home, and he wonders how his mother is getting on...
Rynshinn nodded, bending to finger the cloth. A fall of curly auburn hair hid her face as she said, "Yes, this I can have done today. The rest can be ready within a fortnight, if you're ready to be measured now." Her businesslike words were softened by the sympathy in her tone.
"That is much appreciated. Do you have anything I could fit in the meantime? It would be a shame to repair it just to damage it again the next time we....should something happen, I mean. I'd like to pay in advance, mistress Rynshin, if it's all the same to you.". With that, he pulled off his damaged tunic and got ready for measurement.

'I missed you at dinner, but considering that you were resting after having saved Ameiko, I'll let you off the hook. I'm off to do some more patrolling for little bite-weeds to keep the farmers safe, but I thought you might like to know what I know about the goblins in the Sandpoint area.
'As I mentioned earlier, there are five major goblin tribes in the region. The closest to Sandpoint are the Birdcruncher goblins, who live in caves along the western edge of the Devil�s Platter, although traditionally these goblins are the least aggressive of the five. To the south are the Licktoad goblins of the Brinestump Marsh, pests who are excellent swimmers. East are the Seven Tooth goblins of Shank�s Wood, goblins who�ve secured a place for themselves by raiding Sandpoint�s junkyard and rebuilding the stolen refuse into armor and weapons. Farther east are the Mosswood goblins, likely the largest tribe but one traditionally held back by feuding families within their own ranks. And finally, there are the Thistletop goblins, who live on the Nettlewood coast atop a small island that some say holds a passing resemblance to a decapitated head.
'Goblins generally live short, violent lives. It�s unusual for a single goblin to achieve any real measure of notoriety, but when one does, it�s well earned. Currently, six goblins in the region enjoy the status of �hero�: Big Gugmut is an unusually muscular and tall goblin from Mosswood who, they say, had a hobgoblin for a mother and a wild boar for a father. Koruvus was a champion of the Seven Tooth tribe, as well known for his short temper as he was for his prized possession�a magic sword he called Horsekiller. It's way too big for him, the stupid runt. Koruvus vanished several months ago after he supposedly discovered a �secret hideout� in a cave along the cliffs, but the Seven Tooth goblins remain convinced he�s out there still, a ghost or worse, waiting to murder any goblin who tries to discover his hideout. Vorka is a notorious goblin cannibal who lives in the Brinestump marsh, a �hero� mostly to goblins other than the Licktoad tribe. Rendwattle Gutwad is the obese chieftain of the Brinestump goblins, a corpulent monster who, they say, never leaves his throne. Ripnugget is the leader of the Thistletop goblins and controls what the five tribes agree is the best lair.
'And then there�s Bruthazmus, an infamous bugbear ranger who lives in northern Nettlewood and often visits the five tribes to trade things he�s stolen from caravans for alcohol, news, or magic arrows. He hates elves even more than he hates everyone else, as I can attest to. We've run into eachother before, but I've never managed to kill him, though he deserves it many times over. I won't be the first to fall in our war, though. I swear it.
'That's all I've got for now. I hope it'll help you someday. Good luck taming the "Lord of Hell" that rumor says someone summoned in the Glassworks, ha ha. If it's really just more goblins, kill a few for me.
- Andosana'

12

A visit to Savah gained Quickfoot the arrows he wanted, and with Bergi as their guide, the party soon stood in the cluttered shop with the name Bottled Solutions on the sign outside. It was filled with shelves upon shelves of bottles, bags and other alchemical containers, some covered with dust and others so new that the pungent stink of their brewing still filled the air. The proprietor (Master Nisk Tander, Bergi told them) was a tall, thin man with a shock of near-white hair despite his youthful appearance. He wore spectacles, a somewhat stained leather apron and thick gloves, the latter of which he removed as he came to the front of the store, tucking them into the belt of his apron. His large hazel-green eyes were enlarged further by his glasses in a disconcerting manner as he gave his customers an inquisitive look. "Hello, hello. What can I do for you today? I've just finished a batch of antitoxin, just the thing for cindersnakebite, just the thing. Doesn't work on goblin bites, I'm afraid, before you ask. Still, wonderful stuff, do you wish to buy a bit?"
When Quickfoot told him what he was after, Tander nodded, but didn't move to fetch anything. "Silver weapon blanch, an unusual request, unusual. You are in luck, however. I happen to have that very substance, all that remains of it, at least. Just two portions left. Planned to do a bit of experimenting, but the customer is always right, always, eh? If you'll give me the item or items you want blanched, I can have it done for you within half a candlemark. Mind, it'll come right off if you hit anything with it. Perfectly normal, perfectly normal."
When he heard the good news at Tanders though, Quickfoot's mood improved significantly. He handed over twenty arrows and asked, "Will it be enough to cover these? Frankly, if I need silver to hurt something, I'd rather be as far away as possible." he added with a wink. Once the arrows were ready, he thanked Tander and paid the man in gold.

13

When they reached the Glassworks, they were met by the sight of a crowd of townsfolk holding long knives, pitchforks, clubs and a few actual weapons, as well as a number of (as yet unlit) torches. Keeping them from entering were four members of the town guard, looking worried. They looked relieved when they saw the party. "Settle down, now, the Heroes are here!"
One of them, a handsome young man Bergi knew as Jaren Basvear, hurried over to them. "Please tell me you're going to do something about the ghosts haunting the Glassworks, or goblins or clockwork monsters or whatever it is that's down there. I don't want to see anyone lighting any buildings on fire!" he said quietly.
Hrolfr put his hand on Jaren's shoulder. "We'll do what we can. We'd appreciate if you could keep the townsfolk out of the building" he said before adjusting his backpack and warily walking in.
"Good people! Go home to your families. Wild rumor has burned through this town much more readily than fire from goblin torches. No doubt the little blighters would be gleeful to know of your fear. So, show none! Meet our tormentors' spite with the calm confidence of Sandpoint! Long has this village stood on the edge of the wild, facing many dangers. Long shall it continue to do so! For you, its people, are wise, hardy folk. We go now to ensure that no handful of trash-eating goblins escaped our blades yesterday. The town guard patrols for your safety, as well. Your duty is not to lift torches, but to lift the spirits and hearts of your neighbors For therein lies the true strength of Sandpoint. Tend to that, and our village shall always be safe."
Amismara did not wait to see what effect her words might have had on the crowd, but instead followed Hrolfr into the building.
After a short smile of reassurance to young Jaren Basvear, Bergi looked at the crowd Amismara had so thoughtfully addressed.
"You heard the woman! Now be off and spirit-lift before someone pokes an eye out!" she laughed, darting into the building after the cleric.
At the Glassworks, Quickfoot remained silent, although there was a bit of a smirk on his face at the mob of townsfolk. Once the group headed back in, he confided to Bergi, "I started most of those rumors, you know. The townsfolk are good people, but if the Swallowtail festival showed us anything, it's that they will panic. I thought it would be better to let them get their panicking out of the way now, and be prepared later."
"You assume that panic is in finite supply, Quickfoot. I can hardly move a yard by myself without getting mobbed by those infected! My mother is already scared half to death, you know!" the halfling whispered with some measure of irritation, but such a thing was gone in an instant.
"I do have to admit that I envy your creativity, though. If you were right, this expedition would be worthier of song than ever, if a bit impossible." A smile was creeping back onto the halfling's face.
"-but I expect you to take full responsibility for the jinxing when every phony description ends up being true. You and I, we'll be laughing while the clockwork demon army eats us, and no one will know why."

The Second Cycle

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