If the Villain is in Full Exposition Speech Mode do they grant Combat Advantage..?
Dear Nimbleweed and Ellykins Gulnackle,

Hello again you two. Thought I’d sent you another letter now I finally got out of the jungle! Well, we got out before, but ended up going back on the trail of a half-Orc called Creed. He is was the hired muscle at Madam Tavya’s den of negotiable affection. We tracked him down in a dark spooky cave that had weird floaty, haunting faces in the walls. Brok had already killed a shadow thing by then and Creed had had one hell of a shoddy makeover too! He was all mutated up and disgusting looking. He had a couple of ruffians with him, but Brok and the others sorted them out, and I snuck up along the wall behind the Creed-thing, slashed the backs of his legs, and buried a blade in his back. He’s a bit dead now. I hope Tavya doesn’t take that too badly.

There’d been plenty of folk around town gone missing while we’d been, well, missing, but they all never came back so we kept on deeper into the cave thinking we’d find answers. We got to a fork in the path and Big Red marched off down the left tunnel and completely disappeared. Some sort of magic went on there. Of course Red had my lantern screwed onto the top of his head, so when he went pop, so did the light! Kos, quick as he could, whipped out a Sun-rod for more light. Almost wished he hadn’t cause his light lit up a whole host of uglies! Through the gap to the right we could see a couple of Goliaths, and a tenticled thing tentacling a bunch of Ghostwater folk. Brok, of course, goes charging in. He skimmed past a big old crystalline outcrop too. Don’t think he even saw it at first and the Ghostwatians that were being tentacled swarmed him. I dashed up to hide behind the outcrop Brok nearly smashed into, but as I went I fired off a bolt at one of the goliaths, but one of the enslaved folk almost got in the way. Don’t think he liked it much cause the goliath and a couple of the Ghostwatians came looking, but they didn’t spot me, instead they got a hammer to the face as that Thorgrim stepped up like a perfect beardy distraction. Kos fired off his wand over the dwarf’s head, and next time I looked Brok and all them around him were hidden by a big cloud of shadowy darkness. Then a load of roots and stuff shot up from the dirt knocking the goliath about a bit. Pretty sure little Tulip did that. She also called up an icy wind that upset some of the other buggers too, but I could still hear the nasty tentacle thing on the other side of my little outcrop so I dashed out to surprise it, but the thing knew I was there! I missed trying to slice off a couple of tentacles so I just kept running. It slapped me across the leg with a tentacle as I went though. Made me feel all weird and funny and everything went all fuzzy. When I stopped to get my balance I could see Brok beating on some poor sod while dragging him around the cave, but I also spotted a massive eye in the wall at the back of the cave! How creepy is that!? But I’m pretty sure the thing made me feel better after that smack with a tentacle so I figured I ought to protect it. Kind of failed in that though cause the eye got splatted and a patch of floor swung open. Necro went and fell right in as he and Red finally turned up from wherever they’d been.

The hole was deep so Brok had to lower little Tulip down with my lantern on some rope first to see what was going on before we all clambered down too. We only went and found Brother Wallace down there. He was like Red’s mentor or something. He was hanging around in front of a big old glass altar in a room surrounded by large tube things full of the spooky faces. We recognised some of the faces too. We figured they’d all been kidnapped from Ghostwater and brought to that place. The whole room looked like a huge scary machine. Brother Wallace was trying to sacrifice an unconscious Jess on his glass altar. She was the whore that had gone missing from Tavya’s. I thought them sort of sacrifices were supposed to be of virgins, but oh well. Necro went and gave one of the tubes a whack and it glowed purple for a couple of seconds, but that’s about it.

There was a huge confusing scuffle over the whore. Brother Wallace kept screaming that she had to die, it was the only way, and other crazyness. There seemed to be no reasoning with him. Seems maybe we shouldn’t have been so against his plan really. I couldn’t keep track of who wanted to save her and who wanted her blood spilt. Heck, I couldn’t keep track of what side I was on most of the time! Wallace took a bit of a beating in the confusion and Brok completely crushed one of his already crippled hands. Wallace died from his injuries at the foot of the glass altar and at the same time Jess woke up, but she wasn’t exactly the whore we expected. She had a whole evil chick-demon god thing going on, but even so little Tulip had a kind of wistful look in her eye. Anyway, it’s all fine cause Kos blasted the demon-whore into nothing mid-sentence. She was breaking out into a bit of a gloating monologue thing. Doubt we need to worry about her anymore though.

Oh also, that little crown piece I found before and gave over to my bro? I found another one just like it stuck in the wall behind that altar. Thorgrim supplied his unique dwarven ‘help’ by hammering on it. It took some doing but I managed to prise it out, but as I grabbed the thing the whole cave seemed to freak out so we had to leg it out sharpish! We tried to help Red with Brother Wallace, but he was in a bit of a mess and, not surprising, wasn’t much in the mood for anyone.

When we got back to Ghostwater Tulip and Thorgrim went off ahead to keep up the idea that we all don’t know each other. Turns out they went off and fudged some bets about the rest of us coming back alive! Made a decent lot too, the buggers. When the rest of us tumbled back in I think Red went off to give Brother Wallace a decent send off. Figured it best to leave him be. Brok went straight for the Dog as usual. Hope he told them where Creed went. He might have gone to Madame Tavya’s to mention something about Creed and Jess too.

I’ve just checked out the abandoned shack I managed to snap up when I first got here. It’s going to be more than a little work before I’ll be open for business, but I got everything you guys taught me to get me there! Anyway, I got to head over to Madam Tavya’s in a bit. Supposed I ought to tell her about Creed and Jess. And there’s always plenty of call for my services in her place too. As long as that’s the case I ought to be able to save up enough to fit up and kit out this old shack. I also need to find out where that castle where Marc’s at is. Seeing as he’s alive I ought to go see him properly. I aint going alone though. Need to convince someone to come with me first.

Anyway, hope you’re well.

The Hearts filthy lesson
O brother, where art thou

_There seems to be little to draw the eye to the body slumped against the wall of the dimension seal… a Ghostwater prostitute… above it the faces of past sacrifices to the portal drift in and out of the walls. If anything she is something from which to avert the eyes. The dead vacuous stare and blood stained rags barely covering her body give little hope of much life within.
Then she smiles at you, a trail of blood dribbling from her mouth, and a thrill runs through you – then very quickly, everything changes.
The face contorts, becomes smoother,cleaner,sharper… she rises effortlessly from the ground and her clothes are left behind as thick black skin slides over parts of her body. She takes a step towards you, moving with a dancer’s grace. Short blond hair darkens to a jet black and begins to flow over her shoulders like oil. Her features and figure become sharper and more defined, and in an instant later she has become a creature of flawless beauty. Leathery wings unfold from behind her and long sharp claws extend from her fingers. The nails click together producing a noise similar to small finger cymbals. She laughs as she dances towards you.

Back to Ghostwater

Mud, mud, mud and more gods cursed mud. Hell’s teeth that was unpleasant… oh gods… no… no, not here… no… Yvenne…

Shit, what was that… by all nine hells what now… gods damned mud creatures… fine, to hell with them… get your arse out of that damned mud so I can kill you. Hah… that felt good… oh whore’s piss what has that whiny little pissant Kalle done now – we just got out of that cursed mud… get out of the way runt, leave this to those of us that know what we’re doing in a fight. What is that creature – some sort of demonic aberration, tentacles all over the place… ah at least the demon-spawn knows how to deal with their kind.

Oh Arawai’s tits why did we end up here… I swear I just can’t take any of this anymore… the next person that gets in my way is going to get thumped

Orcus’s hairy sack you have pushed it too far you hell’s damned metal monstrosity… the next time you get in my way it won’t just be my fist in your face Brelander… you better watch yourself… damned slavers, think they own the world… why did we have to come out here… that’s it, I’m leaving… you lot can follow if you want…

Beer… by all the gods that’s good… another day in that jungle and I’d have sold my balls to the Keeper for a skin of beer… I’ll get a couple of these and then find a bath house… Ah there’s Nafez – he’s looking happy… maybe he decided to bet on us coming back… clearly as smart a demon as he looks… maybe worth keeping close to him… or more likely he’ll turn out like that rat bastard Delgano… so I’ll have to keep an eye on him, but for the moment he can supply beer, food and women… so yes, why the hell not. Hell’s with it – here Nafez take this – a lizard’s skull that you can display over the bar if you want… nah – I had some help from that Breland monstrosity Red.

Cynthia… I think I remember her… short blonde girl with big tits… yeah that sounds right… didn’t someone in the Dog say something about people missing. Creed certainly seems pissed off about all these travellers… stupid swamp-pig doesn’t he realise more people here means more business for Tavya… well maybe he’s not in on the profits so its just more work. Ah well, while I’m here on Nafez’s coin I might as well take advantage… where’s that dark skinned girl gone, she looked like she’d be some fun.

Thrice cursed boils on a whore’s arse what does this mind witch think she’s playing at… she uses us to her own ends no doubt. Sending us to rid the town of troublesome kobolds no doubt knowing full well that the local dragonborn won’t take kindly to it. Well that’s the last time I do anything for that bitch. Gods damned psychics I wouldn’t put it past her to have twisted my thoughts so it seemed like a good idea, knowing full well that I have no love of the stinking reptiles right now. Well at least Red got her to hand over the coin. Wonder how long that will keep us going.

Missing girls… slavers no doubt… I should do something about that… better keep Red close, if its slavers there are Brelanders behind it or I’ll hang my sack over a nest of fire ants. Who are these two… a halfling druid – praise be to the Gatekeepers… and a dwarven warrior – always found them to be solid in combat – if a little inclined to stand in one place. And maybe he knows what’s going on with this beard – it itches like Breland whore’s crotch after the battle of Cragwar. Well let them sell their shards to the birdmen Red – its nothing to do with us. Creed you say… hmmm… never took him for a slaver. He says to come here, these crows say to follow him. Never seemed like the smartest of men – too much orc in there I think… hah that would’ve made Yvenne smile. Oh well lets see who these slavers are…

Letter to comrade in arms, Blanco

Dear Blanco

I hope this finds you in good working order. Things have changed since I left Breland to seek my fortune, and not all for the better.

I’ve been staying in this little backwater town in Q’Barra called Ghostwater; it’s a shithole in the Jungle to be honest, but I was being looked after by an honest man of the cloth. Alas, Brother Wallace has gone missing and once again I’m directionless.

What hasn’t helped was I was sent on a bit of a fools errand by some mind witch called Delphi. She asked me and a bunch of others to go and recover some dragonshards, telling us she’d pay us handsomely. Blanco, I’m teamed up with a bunch of freaks here. There is the half-orc who can’t look at me without muttering some blasphemy; the whiny human shit who hides behind me whenever something bigger than a butterfly turns up; a cow with wind that I swear even I can smell – and they’re the more normal ones. Of course, being a true person of war, I’m the poor bastard that continually has to save their arses. The half-orc sneers at me, but I’ve had to revive him twice now and his puny javelin isn’t any match for my armblade.

On the plus side, Blanco, I finally, finally got hold of one of those attachments. You know, one of those. You will never look at life the same way when you get one Blanco; I hope to the Traveller someone will fit you with one and you can enjoy life properly.

We’re supposed to be heading off to trail another half-orc now, to see if we can find my mentor Brother Wallace. I have a feeling something bad is going to happen, and I’m going to put into more shit. I wish I was back with you and the other warforged on the front lines; none of these breathers to slow me down.

I remain your faithful friend.


The Collectors
Next session November 21st

Look at that!… every, god damn day, now more. Drink!”
Nafez downed a shot with Del as they stood on the first floor balcony of the Thirsty dog watching a new wagon train pull into town and fresh faced prospectors set about the muddy main thoroughfare.
“And tonight‘ll be another lucrative evening for aficionados of the little piece of Ghostwater we call the Dog. Well aint this glory o modern enterprise and affectation!
Huh? Del mumbled.
Nafez continued. Those circus freaks did just as what our lovely lady said they would… Shard rush Del. This is shard rush. And my fine furred friend we are right there on top. Riding the want of capitalisation to deliver whatever the wretched valued customers wish to warrant their coin on.
Huh? Del mumbled again.
“Nevermind Del… get down to the bar, it’s going to be a busy night.”

In a small and simple room of two high backed leather chairs and a single bookcase sit two human figures with smooth skin, sharp angular features. They are dressed in plain robes and stare are each other, lips unmoving.

With the Riedra dominating New-Throne you are taking quite a gamble to operate out of Q’barra Delphi, regardless of the physical distance you choose from the capital. You should reconsider this, the prophecy has many interpretations…
Yes but as I have mentioned if we do not act then the events may well unfold to the advantage of our enemies. It would be better for us to have some influence in the area. I cannot express to you how important I feel this mission is.
Very well then, you may use the distortion portal. But when you return take one of the soul-knifes with you now, someone you trust. And please take care.
Of course. Thank you father.


Not what I expected… to be woken up by a Brelander pouring a healing potion down my throat. None to gently I might add. But then he is a warforged there not built for the gentle touch are they. Maybe he’s not so bad… then again maybe he’s like that runty little whore-son Delgano, all nice and pleasant, and of course we can help, and keep a lookout from here this time, and next thing the hells-damned guards are all around me and I’m hurled into jail for the gods alone know what crime and all I can see is Delgano’s ratty little eyes smirking at me from the alleyway. If I ever run into him again I’ll rip his guts out through his… ah hell’s teeth you useless lump of swamp piss forget about that little shit, it was years ago.

Breland scum… slavers… won’t let new immigrants work cause they can’t be trusted and when they try to get along anyway they can it just confirms they couldn’t be trusted. So what does the noble Kingdom of Breland do – throw them into the army, give them a pointy stick and stick them in front of a Cyran heavy cavalry charge so all the Breland bastards can look good and Breland whores don’t have to lose any of their whore-poxed sons. Slavers and murderers in the name of their precious King. His war, but none of his damned sons smelled the hot stinking breath of a Cyran warhorse I’ll bet.

I wonder where this warforged monstrosity fought during the war. He can handle himself that’s for sure – can’t have been hiding in the backline like the rest of those yellow bastards, at least not the whole time. Ah to hell with it, it doesn’t change anything… he’s still a Brelander and proud of it, those gods-cursed markings inscribed on his chest. But what’s he doing here in this ratwater little town anyway… shouldn’t he be…

Ah hells I don’t care, I don’t care… I just want to be left alone. Why did I let that witch trick me into caring about kobold attacks on pissy caravans that I wasn’t even being paid to guard… ah hell Brok they needed killing – demon spawn reptiles can’t be allowed to go around murdering merchants. I just hope that mind witch realizes that if she wants me helping to guard her town then she’s going to have to pay for my spear. Hell’s teeth I need a drink.

A crumpled and mud-caked letter
Dear Saul Lightman,

Hope you’re doing well Saul. I said I’d get in touch when I could. Been a while though. You should have got that promotion you were hoping for. Bet you’re running the whole Lightning Rail R&D department by now! Anyway, I owe you a hell of a lot now pal! Saved my skin getting me out of Passage.

Well like I say I think I got away safe now. Maybe they’ve given up tracking me down. Can only hope I guess. But I’ve landed myself in another fine mess right here though. I’m sat on a soggy rock in a dank, muddy cave writing this on my knee, so sorry if you can’t read a thing. I’ve been stumbling through a jungle with this lot for longer than I’d ever care for. We’re all tired and angry, and now completely dirty too. There’s a lot of cross-bred fly-creature thingies around this place, and Brok the half-orc beast has been getting more ratty each time we seem to catch up to this nasty sort of lizard-fly thing, honestly, he’s pretty damn scary that Brok. Three times it’s happened, and each time the Big three; the orc, the cow, and the Tin-man beat on it until it flies away. The wizard though, Arannis, he’s not half bad shooting freezingness all over the place. Kos, the black fella with the big horns, he’s like the complete opposite of the chilly wizard. Every now and then he points that finger of his and there’s like a hint of fire, but that’s about it. He might get it right sometime soon.

Well now, we climbed down this god-forsaken pit in a swamp only to find the damn lizard-made-of-flies thing that got away again only a few minutes before. Was a close fight that one too. Old Brok had the thing in a pretty eye-watering grip but it still up and flew away leaving us all squelching about knee deep in the stinky muddy swamp and me and the ice-cool eladrin spewing up after catching a couple dirty lizard darts in the neck. I had a right game trying to chase one of them crossbred lizard-flies through that swamp and I haven’t even mentioned the giant wasps or the creepy, moving, chopped off hands that started attacking us for no damn good reason. And then we had to go climb down this filthy hole. Once down here that fly-lizard swarm, and its little bodyguard lizardies were finished, but not before it knocked the half orc on his ass, and I swear I saw a couple scraps fall off Big Red too, but that didn’t stop him squishing most all of the flies. And he even picked up a little Bullywug follower that I thought we’d already scared off into a hole somewhere. Actually forget that. I just looked around and noticed Martha, that’s the useless homing Pig we got here with us – she’s gnawing on what I’m pretty sure used to be that Bullywug.

And looking around has reminded me why I decided to come over here and write this – the others are arguing over some stupid stick in the mud. A magic portal apparently. There’s mud pouring out of the thing and some idiot suggested opening it up more. They want to go swimming through a mud filled portal to god knows where! Martha might be right at home in there, and probably Ptorus too, but I told them straight; I ain’t going through that thing no matter what! No way, no how
Oh shit They gone in – got tgo – Kal

The Travellers

Great One

I have good news to report. The group of travellers that I have been observing as they blundered through the jungle like children have slain the demon-swarm. I’m afraid to say I have lost them now, they disappeared within the ancient building where they fought the creature. But no matter where they are gone to the demon spawn is dead.

As I told you in my last sending I have been watching these travellers for some time. How they ended up so deep in the jungle with so little understanding of how to survive here I will never understand. I’m surprised that they have survived so long, though it appears that the eladrin among them had some limited ability to find food. They have a strange orange root vegetable the likes of which I have never seen, but which no matter how much they ate of it, yet it remained. Without that I fear the half-orc may well have killed and eaten one of the others he growled and cursed at them so much. They also clearly hold great reverence for boars and pigs as all this time they kept with them a sow, yet they never slaughtered and ate it. I have seen the town they come from but had not been close enough to observe this reverence of pigs before. It is most perplexing.

Still I managed to subtly lead them to the stream that I knew would take them to where the demon-swarm was. As luck would have it we arrived when the abomination was in the middle of some arcane ritual, the purpose of which I do not wish to consider. They promptly attacked and drove back the corrupted lizards and frogs and the demon-swarm itself. They then proceeded along the never ending stream of mud into the heart of the demon-swarm’s lair. I admit that for a moment I feared to follow them, but when the sounds of battle rose from the mists I crept forward.

The mud was vile. As you know I am not as particular as some about keeping my fur spotlessly clean, but this mud was different. It oozed between my pads in a most unpleasant manner. I found myself picking my way forward carefully. But the battle that emerged from the mists was worth it. The travellers seemed to be having great difficulty wading around in the swamp and the demonic lizard creatures were able to dance around them with great ease. But once they managed to engage one of them in battle it was quickly over. Even the great wasps that the demon-swarm had conjured from the abyss were easily dispatched.

I was momentarily side tracked when all the severed hands that had been casually strewn about the swamp burst to life, some other manifestation of the swarm’s power no doubt. By the time I could look back to the battle I saw that once again they had engaged the swarm, and once again it fled from them, down into its muddy lair. They didn’t hesitate more than a moment, tearing open the entrance and plunging into the darkness.

By the time I made it to the platform the sounds of battle had started up again. I could see almost nothing down there when I looked, but was about to shift forms and follow them down when I was beset by more of the demonic severed hands. They were no real threat to me, but it took a few moments to dispatch them all. By the time I was finished the sounds of battle below had quieted. For a moment I feared the worst – that they had been slain and that the swarm would emerge. Alone I would have no chance against it. But then I heard voices and I could breathe again as I recognised the travellers.

At that moment I wanted to approach them, to thank them for their aid in ridding this jungle of the swarm. But I remembered your words of warning – these folk do no like our kind, viewing us as savages, little more than beasts. And so I hesitated, and then I withdrew as far as the nearest tree that would support me. I sat there for almost an hour waiting for them to emerge to see where they would go next, and if possible to guide them back toward their town if I could do so without revealing myself. But they never appeared. Eventually I crept forward again, and when I heard nothing I ventured into that loathsome hole. I found nothing but the bodies of corrupted lizards and vast numbers of dead flies. Of the travellers there was no sign, the mud hadn’t even left enough tracks to show me what had happened down there.

The other good thing is that the constant flow of mud has stopped. I found a mystic staff that I suspect has something to do with it. I have buried it in the swamp some distance from the swarm’s lair. I do not think I was observed while doing so, but if there is another swarm then I have no way of knowing if that is so. The next time you come this way I will take you to it and maybe you can guide me on what must be done.

Other than that there is little to tell of. I will continue to watch over the jungle here until I hear otherwise from you. And I will watch out for those travellers again, I feel they may yet be more adventures for them in these parts.

Best wishes to you and your mate, may your pack be strong and may she bear you many litters.


A list of things pissing me off:

1) Breathers. If it’s not stopping to eat something, it’s stopping to drink something. And then they get ill from it. Holding us up all the time, I just want to get home.

2) That whiny human Kalle. I’m technically a eunuch and I’ve got more balls than that spineless lump of shit. Quit hiding behind me, get your razors out and help us kill these bloody fly things.

3) The tiefling. There is definitely something shady about him, something I know of and I can’t place it. I can’t trust it, and I’m watching my back.

4) That half-orc, half-dwarf (or so he looks) abomination Brok. Sneering at me, demanding I fight – yet it’s me who has saved his arse not once, but twice. I swear to the Traveler if he doesn’t treat me with the right respect, next time I’ll leave him to die.

Requiescat In Pace

Martha the homing battle-pig
An Obituary

Today I am sad to report that Martha, a brave homing battle-pig that once belonged to Breadloaf of Ghostwater has been lost in inter-dimensional space and must be presumed dead.

Martha, who was resident of Ghostwater until she accompanied the expedition sent out to recover dragonshards from the Kobolds, leaves a rich legacy in porcine folklore. On the day she died, she easily dispatched an animated claw and a bullywug; to add to the list of kobolds she had previously fell.

Martha was much loved by her keepers Ptorus and Red, and will be sorely missed (especially by Brok, who was looking forwards to eating bacon).

Martha, may you rest in peace.


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