Campaign Log -- Day Fifteen, Morning of Day Sixteen

The 21st day of the month of Obad-Hai
The 110th year of the second Ravensblood dynasty

Quimarel enters the Royal Intelligence Corps lobby, and the guards posted in front of the door that leads to the non-publically-accessible parts of the building challenge her.

Cpl. Ogloya: What is your business here?
Quimarel: I have a question for the Spymistress.
Cpl. Ogloya: Is she expecting you?
Quimarel: No, this has come up rather suddenly.
The good corporal decides to go check with Zubynna to see whether she is willing to speak to the owner of the Squirting Squid on short notice. She is.
Cpl. Ogloya: She says that she is not terribly busy, and she would be happy to speak to a pillar of the community such as yourself.
Quimarel: Wonderful.
Cpl. Ogloya: I will lead you up so that you… find your way without… going anywhere you shouldn’t.
Quimarel: Of course.

The guard leads her through this huge scriptorium area where goblins are copying stuff down -- they and the guard are cagey about what they’re writing, and are careful not to let her see any of it. However, as she’s passing a desk, Quimarel sees [Perception: 22] that the goblin there is writing…

Quimarel OOC: Fifty Shades of Goblin?
GM: Fifty Shades of Greenish-Brown… no.

“…According to our sources in Barlgilton, the assassination of the minister seems imminent, perhaps within the next three months…”

The PCs are aware that Barlgilton is the big city up north, about two weeks’ ride away if you have a fast horse.

At the back of the scriptorium, there is a stairway, which Cpl. Ogloya leads her up. The second floor is a small hallway with a few simple wooden doors, one of which Cpl. Ogloya helpfully opens for her. It’s a nice roomy office with a window and a desk that’s big (for a goblin). Zubynna is sitting behind the desk, which doesn’t seem to have anything on it other than her lunch -- perhaps she just cleared all the documents into a drawer. Or maybe she just doesn’t have anything to do today. The lunch in question appears to be an ankheg claw; as she talks, she occasionally picks it up and takes a bite, chewing up the exoskeleton along with the meat. She does not pause in her discourse to chew -- goblins don’t put much thought into table manners.

If you were a goblin, this would look delicious.

Spymistress Zubynna Chief Muck-Laugh: What can I help you with? [crunch]
[Quimarel regales the Spymistress with “pleasantries according to her station”, etc.]
Quimarel: Normally I wouldn’t bother you; I know you’re very busy. However, we seem to be having some trouble with fairy folk, and you are one of the most learned individuals in town, so I was hoping you would know of some way of solving this problem. Little bastards keep bothering my customers, and they won’t leave one of my whores alone. Have you ever had a problem with these things?
Zubynna: Not… [crunch] …personally. Well, I know that they rarely venture into town.
Quimarel: Yes, we’re kind of on the outskirts; I think that’s why they’ve been so bold.
Zubynna: I suspect… [crunch] …that they may be doing this because they want something. [crunch] [chew chew chew] There’s something I might have to check.
Quimarel: What could they want? They tend to leave us alone, at least until recently.
Zubynna: That’s classified. [crunch]
[Significant pause as the two women stare at each other. Zubynna’s body language is more or less opaque; Quimarel [Sense Motive: 14] can’t pick up any telltale signs of deception or strong emotion.]
Zubynna: I… [chew] …have to speak to one of my… [chew chew] …employees about an ongoing project. [crunch] In the meantime, feel perfectly free to swat them. They’re annoying little things, and deserve it.
Quimarel: Thank you very much. Will you let me know if you find out?
Zubynna: I will send you a message. [crunch]
Quimarel: Thank you. I appreciate it.

Quimarel departs, and shares the content of the conversation with Hiddlebatch. “Apparently,” she says, “there’s an ‘ongoing project’ involving fairies. So I don’t know if there’s something special about Silvermoss, or if they just grabbed one… I don’t know what this project entails.”

The PCs go to consult Silvermoss, and ask if he can tell them where to find the rest of the fairies.

Silvermoss: Of course; I can guide you to where they frequent.
Hiddlebatch: Oh, we’re still concerned about your safety if you venture out of the chapel. Why don’t you just tell us where to find them? And here, have some mead.
Quimarel: Of course, if we just wander around in the wilderness for long enough, we’re sure to find some eventually.
Silvermoss: [drinks some mead] Okay, um, flying north, for… about ten hours…
Hiddlebatch OOC: How fast do they fly?
DM: You haven’t timed him.
Hiddlebatch OOC: Knowledge [nature] check… ha! Natural 20.
DM: Nearly twice as fast as you walk.
Silvermoss: …then, when you reach the field of red flowers, turn… right, and continue… until you reach an area with lots of snakes, then turn left… then eventually you’ll run into them.
Hiddlebatch: …how about we just go out into the wilderness carrying lots of mead and honey?

The PCs decide to wait until they get a message from Zubynna, then go looking for fairies.

Later that day, a messenger arrives at the Squirting Squid with a little sealed scroll, which he hands to Quimarel and waits, in case of response. Quimarel casts Detect Magic -- not magic.

The scroll reads:

I can’t explain why they’re here -- it’s still classified -- but if you can catch one and bring it to us alive, we would reward you.

Hiddlebatch OOC: I Sense Motive on the paper. 16.
GM: The paper is… dead.
Hiddlebatch OOC: NOOOOOOO! WHYYYYYYYYYY!

The PCs discuss this new information, presumably out of the messenger’s earshot. (I mean, they never SAID “out of earshot”, but it’s only listening to the recordings later that I realize how much I could have screwed with them by having the messenger overhear.)

Hiddlebatch: When we go to see what’s going on, we should catch one and bring it back.
Quimarel: Why don’t we just give them… wait, they’d probably be suspicious if they got the same one back, wouldn’t they?
Hiddlebatch: You have terrible ideas.
Quimarel: That’s why I stopped myself.

Quimarel writes a response on the back of the scroll:

Thank you for letting me know. I will do what I can -- please let me know if we can be of further assistance.

The PCs take some time to discuss whether Quimarel’s handwriting looks appropriately respectful. The messenger fidgets and waits. They send him back with the scroll, and head off into the wilderness.

[Random Encounter Table: 75-89 (lone traveller)]
[Lone Traveller Table: 50]

After a few hours walking in a generally northerly direction, around sundown, the pair runs across a lone traveller. It’s a goblin, in clerical robes that look crudely sewn. He seems fairly friendly, and goes out of the way to greet the party.

Kornnul Tribeless: Greetings, fellow travellers. Would you mind if perhaps I shared your fire this evening? It’s very dangerous to travel alone, and larger groups are best for safe--
Quimarel OOC: Sense Motive. 14.
Hiddlebatch OOC: 18.

They feel like the goblin is probably being honest about just wanting to share a fire and enjoy “safety in numbers” for the night. Hiddlebatch recognizes that there’s something… off… about him, but who is H to judge?

The goblin wears a wooden holy symbol, stained green and carved in the shape of an eye. Hiddlebatch recognizes the symbol as that of one of the new gods, Saurivuntyr the All-Seeing [Knowledge(religion): 24] Saurivuntyr, Hiddlebatch knows, is usually represented as a green dragon. He’s not really worshiped in these parts, but lately elves in green wooden masks, hailing from a land far to the south, have been wandering the area and spreading word of this new and powerful god, The goblin must therefore be a recent convert.

Hiddlebatch: So, we’re pretty far from any towns [Hiddlebatch has apparently forgotten that H and Quimarel are only a few hours’ walk away from home]; what are you doing out here?
Kornnul: Ah -- I am travelling to a chapel of Saurivuntyr. It is in the wilderness a few weeks south of here, and I must reach it so that I may perform my Ritual of the Mask.

Hiddlebatch casts Detect Magic, but the goblin is not inherently magical. There is a faint aura around his holy symbol, which might indicate that he has recently used it to cast a spell, but that’s about it.
They sit down with the goblin; he helps build a fire, and pulls out a rabbit he shot earlier that day for some food --

Hiddlebatch OOC: So he has no magical items?
GM: No.

Quimarel decides she wants to hear the guy’s story, so she “applies her conversational skills” to hear about his life and travels. His name is Kornnul Tribeless, and he is originally from Trisnedort, another Capran protectorate. The PCs are vaguely familiar with it, as it is dominated by Tribe Gloom-Foul, the other major goblin tribe connected to the Royal Intelligence Corps.

Quimarel OOC: You know, this guy just encountering us in the forest [Quimarel is apparently forgetting that they are in the Wastelands, a steppe-like environment that only supports small clumps of trees here and there, near bodies of water]... “Dear Penthouse, you’ll never believe…”

Time passes in much this way. They hang out around the fire, Kornnul offers them some cooked rabbit, and the PCs get to hear about the all-seeing eye of Saurivuntyr, how it watches all of your misdeeds and judges you, how one day Saurivuntyr will melt this world down and build a new one from the ashes, etc.

Quimarel: I can respect that plan.
[pause]
Quimarel OOC: I would like to insinuate that I would be willing to give Saurivuntyr a show, wink wink nudge nudge. [Charisma check: 22]
GM: Let’s fade to black on this.

While Quimarel leads Kornnul off behind a nearby hillock, Hiddlebatch rummages through his bag. It’s mostly the kind of stuff you’d need for a long cross-country trip, such as preserved food (mostly jerky rations). There’s also a small scroll that seems to be notes he’s taken from sermons.

The 22nd day of the month of Obad-Hai
The 110th year of the second Ravensblood dynasty

The night passes without further incident, and in the morning the PCs and Kornnul go their separate ways. As he’s leaving, Hiddlebatch suddenly remembers something.

Hiddlebatch: Hey! Have you seen any fairies recently?
Kornnul: Yes, I have! Two nights ago, when I was sleeping, they took charcoal from my firepit and drew obscenities all over my face and clothing.
[laughter from the PCs]
Kornnul: Then they lit my shoes on fire. Luckily, I packed a spare pair.
Hiddlebatch: Whereabouts was this?
Kornnul: Somewhere north of here. There wasn’t much in the way of landmarks.
Hiddlebatch: Thank you.

They continue going their separate ways. When Kornnul is almost out of earshot, Hiddlebatch yells “Khurgorbaeyag could kick your god’s ass!” and runs away.

Hiddlebatch’s player expresses confusion that I actually had “poverty-stricken recent convert of Saurivuntyr” on my random encounter table. Quimarel’s player, who was my roommate at the time, explains that she’s seen me writing up tables for fun, so it’s not that unusual.

Aern Calendar -- Sorry, not a real update.

The following is the calendar I use for the campaign -- the world is called "Aern", hence the title at the top. I figured I had better put it somewhere my players could get to it, as I've been planning to print a copy for them for ages, but those plans never seem to materialize.

The days in black are feast days, when the power of the god after whom the month is named are at their apex. So far, this has not been relevant in this campaign, since none of the PCs worship one of the top twelve gods, and the only feast day to pass has been that of Obad-Hai. There are no followers of Obad-Hai, Heironeous, or Tiamat in the area, so that's not going to be important for a while.

I didn't see why we would have a "Woden's Day" or a "Thor's Day" in a world where Thor and Woden were never even a thing, so I named the days of the week after the Quasi-Elemental Planes, because why not. Note that weeks are eight days long, and each month is only 26 days. This means "1/week" effects are slightly less useful, and "1/month" effects slightly more so.

Between the last day of Nerull and the first of Wee Jas, there is the Long Night -- a day where the sun does not rise, the moon is not visible in the sky, and divine power is completely nullified.

I don't know why there's a piece missing from the top left. It doesn't show up in the original document.

Campaign Log -- Day Fifteen

The 21st day of the month of Obad-Hai
The 110th year of the second Ravensblood dynasty

At the point in time where this game actually took place, it was still summer vacation, and matching everyone’s schedules up was difficult. Makpov’s player and I were both working retail at the time, so we had no such vacation to speak of. Quimarel’s player had just gotten back from a trip, Hiddlebatch’s player was about to leave, and Tamarie’s player was currently visiting family. In a desire to get at least one session in before Hiddlebatch’s player left, I ended up running a sidequest that included only Quimarel and Hiddlebatch: they wanted to figure out what the deal was with their drunken gerbil-fairy. I apparently started the recorder late, because the recording starts with the two players having already given in to the instincts conferred upon them by advanced degrees in English: they’re in the library doing research. Specifically, it starts with me giving them an answer to a research question regarding the formal hierarchy of atomies (the species of fairy they’re dealing with):
“They’re ‘organized’ in the same sense that a wasp nest is ‘organized’: all the creatures involved have a vague, instinct-based idea of what the best course of action would be, and it works well enough for them to survive. More or less, they fly around, collect resources, stick people with tiny swords -- or put snakes in their backpacks -- and otherwise they just do what they feel like.”
Quimarel and Hiddlebatch debate the idea of getting the information they want out of members of the Intelligence Corps through diplomacy.

Hiddlebatch: We could say something like… we got stung by a fairy or something.
Quimarel OOC: Do they have stingers?
GM: Little swords.
Hiddlebatch: Yeah, so say one of them poked you… in a non-sexual way. Like, in a violent way.

There’s some brief concern that they might not be able to find out who the high-ranking members of the Intelligence Corps are, which is quickly solved when I point out that this information is actually in the setting document I gave them during character-creation. Since this branch of the Royal Intelligence Corps is directly run by Tribe Muck-Laugh, the title of Spymaster automatically goes to the chief of the tribe. Currently, the goblin in charge is Spymistress Zubynna Chief Muck-Laugh, an elderly woman who regularly holds audiences with citizens of the town in order to maintain visibility and popularity. Talking to her would not be a problem, as long as you didn’t seem to be wasting her time -- you don’t get to be Chief Muck-Laugh by being a nice person.
It is also established that the extremely elderly chieftainess is unlikely to be interested in Quimarel’s employees, so their standard method of bribery is out.

Quimarel OOC: Not even the bedazzled boy-whore? [i.e., Makpov]
GM: Maybe the bedazzled boy-whore, but only because he’s just SO bedazzled. Generally, she is past that time of life.

Plans are hatched regarding how to subtly get information out of Zubynna. Quimarel suggests using her points in Craft [herbal remedies] to drug Zubynna with something that would increase her libido so that they can use the standard bribe-the-official-with-whores plan, but the logistics seem to be difficult. Also, it turns out Quimarel forgot to actually buy any ranks in Craft [herbal remedies] -- she just wrote the skill down on her sheet -- so she’d need Tamarie to do the actual brewing.

Hiddlebatch decides to go talk to the Kech and see if they know anything. It heads over to the Broken Stone and sits in the dining area on the first floor to wait for one to show up.

Quimarel OOC: You “sit down and stare”?
GM: I think she said “sit downstairs”.
Quimarel OOC: I like mine better.

For the sake of Hiddlebatch not spending all day sitting in a tavern, Lu-Dingira shows up for lunch fairly shortly. Hiddlebatch approaches him. “Excuse me. I have some things to discuss with you, and I think it would be better if we retired to a more private location.”
Silently bemoaning the apparent tendency of savages to disrupt his meals, Lu-Dingira takes Hiddlebatch up to the room the Kech are renting, and they sit down for a private chat.

Lu-Dingira: What is so important that you had to come speak to us?
Hiddlebatch: Well… it might not seem that important to you… but we’ve been having problems with local fairies. They are quite numerous, and we were wondering if you happened to know anything about them.
Lu-Dingira: Hm. Well, until a few months ago, we lived many thousands of miles away. So we have little experience with the local fairy folk.
Hiddlebatch: And you haven’t had any issues with them since you’ve been here, or seen anything odd, or…
Lu-Dingira: When we travelled here -- the part where we went over land, I mean -- we were in the company of Lord Bashant of the Thin Blades and Lord Jithanver the Blood-Drinker. Even the fairy folk seem smart enough to steer clear, so we never saw any.
Hiddlebatch: Oh. Okay. There have just been some strange goings-on in the area, and we weren’t sure if it was related to what you’d been doing, or if it might interfere with our plans or yours, or our mutual arrangement. So if you notice anything strange in relation to fairies, let us know.
Lu-Dingira: We shall.
Hiddlebatch: Anything else we need to know?
Lu-Dingira: There’s some unrest underground, but I think we’ve got it under control.
Hiddlebatch: With the big, horrifying creatures or the slaves?
Lu-Dingira: The former. They seem… oddly well-organized for big, horrifying creatures.
Hiddlebatch: Oh. That’s ominous. And how are your gods doing?
Lu-Dingira: I haven’t asked. They consider it impertinent to just pop in, you know.
[There is some brief discussion out of character regarding whether the Kech are religious. They aren’t, but it seems likely that Lu-Dingira just parsed “gods” as “rakshasa” and answered accordingly.]
Hiddlebatch: Maybe you should keep this. It may guide you in your quest. [Diplomacy: 22]
[Hiddlebatch hands Lu-Dingira one of H’s carven idols]
Lu-Dingira: Is this an important object in your culture?
Hiddlebatch: It is an important object in ALL cultures. This is --
Lu-Dingira: It is not an important object in MY culture.
Hiddlebatch: It will be soon. You see, this is from the god Khurgorbaeyag who, as you may have noticed, is working to spread his influence across the land --
Lu-Dingira: I have not noticed this.
Hiddlebatch: -- as is evidenced by all the individuals with strange mutations that make them superior to the other individuals. This is --
Lu-Dingira: I thought that was just how you people were.
Hiddlebatch: This is his totem. It will bless you.
Lu-Dingira: That’s nice of him. I’ll just put it on this shelf over here.

Hiddlebatch tries to evangelize at Lu-Dingira to make him into a follower of her heretical sect. He responds to her attempts by explaining his cultural beliefs, which he presents as superior. This is not acted out at the table, but the general gist of Lu-Dingira’s beliefs is that hierarchy and obedience are critically important, because something something social Darwinism. He also claims that he and his people were the first warm-blooded creatures to achieve sapience, and seems to feel that this gives him additional authority.

Hiddlebatch: Not a fan of the reptiles, then?
Lu-Dingira: Reptiles were the ones who created us -- so that we could be their servants. And for many generations, we served faithfully. Until their great empire fell, and we traveled across the sea...

He relates the Kech creation myth, which involves being uplifted from monkeyhood to serve as glorified homunculi / lab assistants for Aarakocra wizards, then, as they grew more numerous, an underclass for the entire empire, which was located somewhere over the sea to the west.. Lu-Dingira and his compatriots are descended from a group of Kech who were essentially sold to the rakshasa when the empire was in its final decline. Hiddlebatch doesn’t care, ends the conversation, and leaves. Lu-Dingira notes how rude these savages are and goes to get his lunch.
Quimarel starts preparing for a meeting with Zubynna. First, she tries to figure out how to attract fairies. Her Knowledge [nature] check tells her that they just don’t operate on the same kind of logic she does¹, and virtually anything could potentially be construed as an invitation under the right circumstances.
Quimarel and Hiddlebatch press for more detail (Knowledge [nature]: 17) and remember hearing that there are certain things more likely to attract fey attention. Silvermoss certainly likes honey, especially when made into mead. Quimarel suggests that there might be certain flowers they find appealing, and I decide that’s probably true. Quimarel also remembers hearing that you can attract them with saucers of milk and bread, and that certain songs get their attention for whatever reason.

Hiddlebatch OOC: Can I sing some songs and see what Silvermoss responds to?
GM: You CAN, yes.
Hiddlebatch OOC: I assume I know some local songs…
Quimarel OOC: The traditional ballad “Hit Me Baby One More Time”.

Hiddlebatch decides to sing some hymns to Khurgorbaeyag. Silvermoss sings along, but makes up his own words. He doesn’t seem to react to one any more than the others. Out of character, Quimarel and Hiddlebatch agree that “Toxic” is a hymn to Khurgorbaeyag, but Quimarel’s player meant the Britney Spears song and Hiddlebatch’s player is loudly singing another song called “Toxic” which neither of us recognize.

Quimarel OOC: [picks up recorder] Dear future GM who’s listening to this… I’m sorry.

They go back to trying to figure out what to say to Zubynna. Quimarel wants to have some plausible reason why she might be having difficulty with fairies.

Hiddlebatch: Just say you were romping through the woods, and --
 Quimarel: I do do a lot of romping.
Hiddlebatch: And, uh, and one poked you.
Quimarel: One poking me is not enough to be --
Hiddlebatch: THIS IS A SERIOUS ISSUE!
Quimarel: Not enough for me to bring it up; it needs to be something unusual.

Eventually, they decide that the combination of Makpov’s natural carrion stench and the smoke from the large hookah that Foxglove Winemist recently dragged into the common room (to “cultivate an exotic atmosphere”) is an unusual enough scent that it could plausibly attract fairies. By claiming that fairies are showing up and harassing her employees as a result, Quimarel has a lie that seems like a significant enough issue to consult Zubynna for advice.
Quimarel’s Knowledge [local] reveals that while Zubynna’s schedule is irregular, changing depending on what she needs to do to maintain visibility and/or snuff out any opposition to her leadership before it gets serious, she holds regular “office hours” at the Intelligence Corps, can usually be found mingling in the Marketplace of Rats at some point during the day, and frequently eats at the Broken Stone. Quimarel decides to go talk to her in her office.

---

1 In my campaign, the Fey and the Far Realm essentially form the z-axis of the alignment chart: they are fundamentally opposed in the same way Good and Evil are, but their thought processes and beliefs are so alien to everyone else that it just doesn’t map properly onto the two-dimensional good/evil/law/chaos moral structure that the rest of the world uses. In a nod to TV Tropes, I’ve mentally labelled their opposing philosophies Blue and Orange, respectively. As a consequence, Detect Evil on a fey creature results in the caster getting a result of “inconclusive” and seeing strange blue flickers for a few seconds.. On a micro level, with minor fairies like the atomie, that means that their behavior, culture, ethics, &c. are completely unpredictable from a humanoid point of view. ^↩