Etrigan’s Journal- 1st Entry

Author’s Note: Before and maybe sometimes after every entry I like to make these little notes to give some background on the events and maybe discuss how the group was feeling, since this is my first entry I figured I should give anybody reading some background information.The story will be told from the first person perspective of Etrigan himself, as he is my own character within the campaign. Etrigan’s Journal is intended as, hopefully, an interesting way to record the adventures of my pathfinder group to both entertain ourselves and others, but also to help catch up any new players on what’s going on, or inform players that may have missed sessions. If anybody is interested in joining in our sessions we try to meet every other Friday (Next session is Friday, September 29th) at 7 P.M. at the Village Geek in McPherson. Our amazing Game Master is Adam Brown, who does a wonderful job of both keeping the casual feel to the game and yet keeping us on task, he’s willing to work with new and experienced players as needed.

 

This first module we played (the one we begin here) was called “Goblins Tooth 1: Moonless Night- The Defense of Goblins Tooth”. It can be found online at dragonsfoot.com. It was originally written by Lorne Marshall for the 1st edition of Advanced Dungeons and Dragons, but adapted for Pathfinder by Adam Brown. If in the future I fail to give this information and anybody wants to know, feel free to ask me so I can give credit where it’s due. For the next few entries I’ll probably put multiple sessions into each post, just to get us caught up, but since this one was pretty packed with a lot of opening campaign stuff it’s going to be just one session. I will also make note of any new players at the table and their characters.

 

For this first session we had myself playing Etrigan, a half-elf cleric; Elisha playing Drogo, a halfling rogue; and Rachel created Shiri, the half-orc barbarian, as well of course as Adam Brown who shouldered the difficult task of shepherding a brand new group through the world of Pathfinder. So I guess without further ado, it’s time for me to get to work.~

 

Author’s Note: That “~” is how I’ll indicate I’m changing voice for future reference. ~

 

Day 27.

 

I still don’t understand the purpose of this accursed journal, but I was instructed to keep a record of my thoughts and experiences by the rector. It’s been over three weeks since they banished me from the safety and civilization of the cloister, they claimed it was for my own good, that I lack the presence to inspire belief in those around me, but it seems obvious I’m being punished, perhaps I asked too many questions for their liking. Whatever the reason, here I sit at the godsforsaken edge of society, traveling the frontier toward a congregation of uncultivated bumpkins. Even here, among the caravan, I can tell I’m making the rest of them uncomfortable, Elves can do that to humans, though they don’t seem to understand when I tell them I’m only part Elf. Just how far has my lot in life fallen? There’s an orc in our caravan, and yet STILL most of them seem more skittish around me than any other companion.

I’ve never encountered an orc before, but I’m given to understand they have a difficult time forging new relationships with other societies. Judging by my one example, her name is Shiri, I can’t imagine why, though that could be because she’s informed me she is only part orc. She doesn’t seem to exhibit any of the tendencies her blood may have bestowed onto her. I mean, sure, she’s boisterous and enjoys drinking and fighting, but no more than any other species I’ve ever encountered, though perhaps she isn’t entirely aware of her own strength, at least not in relation to those around her.

If the others in the caravan were clever they wouldn’t be watching either myself or Shiri so closely, at least not while traveling with a halfling. Her name is Drogo, and it’s because of her that I have to check my bedroll every night, on the third night of our excursion she snuck some leaves into my pack… I had a rash for six days and she just kept whispering to the others and giggling every time she looked at me. I’ve noticed the rest of the caravan talking to her differently than the rest of us, almost as if they believe she’s a child. I can’t figure why she tolerates this behavior, other than perhaps she enjoys the mischief.

According to the head of the caravan we’ll be making Goblins Tooth in the next few days, from there they will continue onto the next stop before following a road that will take them back to civilization. “You’re in for quite the welcome,” he told me, then he began chuckling, I wonder what he meant. Whatever it is, I’m sure it won’t matter, I won’t be in Goblins Tooth long, I’m fairly confident that my faith in Sarenrae will see to that, afterall I can’t believe that the Goddess of Redemption would ever allow her faithful servant to wallow in exile for too long. No, I will find atonement for whatever slight I have inflicted and be allowed to return to the cloister. A few months in Goblins Tooth, working with this Brother Rothsby, then I’m certain I will be homeward bound once more.

 

Day 30.

 

Goddess forgive me! Whatever my transgressions may have been they must be greater than I realized, for around midday, the sun itself fell dark, and for the life of me I cannot imagine a more calamitous omen. This has left me wondering if perhaps even sweet, merciful Sarenrae has turned her sight from me, for what surer meaning could there be to this portent than that I have in some thought, word, or deed affronted the Goddess of the Sun?

To top it off this devastating prophecy heralded my arrival to Goblins Tooth by less than an hour. I know now what the head of the caravan had meant when he mentioned my welcome, the people here, they look at me with glances varying between concern and abject terror. On my arrival one woman fell to her knees uttering a prayer for divine protection, though this reaction was definitely the most extreme, I get the feeling that I make the rest of the township… uneasy, to say the least. At first I thought perhaps I bore some mark of affliction, that I carried with me some curse-mark, a warning for all to see.

To cap it off neither Brother Rothsby nor one of his understudies were awaiting my arrival at the town square as I had hoped. I was left to my own to wander the village in search of the temple. At first I decided that I should stay near to Shiri and Drogo, it would be good to have familiar, if not necessarily friendly, faces near should anything befall me. The three of us made our way to the Shady Oak Inn, mostly because it was the closest tavern.

Along the way we encountered a peculiar fellow named Tavion. “Tavion, the forlorn,” he introduced himself. I suppose he was forlorn because in a drunken gambit to win the affections of a local maid he’d climbed the guard tower to ring the bell, which earned him a stay in the stocks. Given that there was a rather crude scratching of his name in the grains of the oak, I would wager this wasn’t his first such incarceration. He begged us to free him of his confinement. With an impish smile Drogo dangled a set of lockpicks in front of him, the act seemed petty and a little cruel to me, though it did support my theory that she was a trickster at heart, along with the stereotypical halfling proclivity toward thievery.

Things were quiet in the tavern, at least when we arrived, even, here among the travelers people stared at me, or maybe it was all of us, I suppose we are a rather motley assortment. Shiri hardly seemed to notice the attention, she was too intent on her mead… or perhaps that time it was ale, one thing’s for sure, the woman loves her fermented drinks. Drogo on the other hand busied herself with earning coin rather than spending it, she may have been cursed with a devilish grin, but she was also gifted with the voice of an angel.

The combination of Drogo’s song and a touch of the Holy Sacrament helped me to muster my courage before I ventured out on my own to find the temple. When I arrived I introduced myself to Brother Rothsby, who welcomed me politely into the sanctum. Things took a confusing turn however when he mentioned that I must be what all the talk was about, and that I clearly wasn’t from the area. I was a bit relieved to discover that the townsfolk unease around me could not be attributed to some curse, but rather to my ears. It seems there hasn’t been an Elf in Goblins Tooth in generations… in fact there is no record in the archives of any elves in modern times, the last mention was a few hundred years ago. My arrival when combined with the eclipsing of the sun had lead some to believe that something dire was about to befall the small town.

Almost as soon as he cleared that up for me however, another confusion arose. While I had been told that Brother Rothsby was eagerly anticipating my arrival, I would have preferred if somebody had told him I would be coming in the first place. That’s right, after weeks on the road, I arrived in town to discover that nobody here had ever been made aware that I was in transit! Brother Rothsby then assured me that I could stay in the temple until more permanent arrangements could be made for my lodging. At this point my spirit was as broken as it could get. I’d journeyed from far away not only to find a place that I did not wish to be, but that seemed for all intents and purposes to not want me there either.

Since it seemed my stay in Goblins Tooth would be lengthy, if not permanent, I decided it would be prudent to familiarize myself with the town a bit, so I decided to go for a walk and hopefully figure a way out of this mess I’d wandered into. While I was out I noticed Shiri accompany an elderly woman home, and when they arrived she was invited in. Shiri, the same Shiri that would have had trouble getting a table at any reputable tavern in the city, was being kindly invited into people’s homes here, while the rest of the village watched me with nervous eyes and crossed the street whenever our paths seemed destined to intersect.

My wandering took me to a small park near the defensive hedge that marked the edge of the town, where I found a bench to sit upon while I pondered my predicament. Even here, among the eyes of the children I was under intense scrutiny. I was deep in thought when I felt something momentarily pin the tip of my ear to my temple. I turned in time to see a child drop a stick and go running back to his peers, I looked down at the rough ground back the way he’d fled, there were lines drawn in the ground, the last one was about the same distance away as the length of the stick that had poked at me. They’d taken turns proving their bravery by seeing who would come closest to me, they were… afraid of me?

At the park I met up with Drogo who was out exploring the town herself, no doubt marking those with the best valuables to pilfer later. I decided to accompany her to grease her sticky fingers. Some in the town got the idea in their heads that she was my daughter, I guess they hadn’t seen a halfling in some time either, and of course she felt no need to correct them. Embarrassing as it may be, Drogo seemed to be in better standing within the town than I, so to my shame, I also allowed this notion to persist.

I was in the process of returning her to the inn for the night when we noticed people gathering in front of a crudely built cabin. The two of us decided to investigate the situation. We waited for the line to clear, it seemed each person had to pay fifteen copper pieces to enter the building, from within we could hear cheers and applause mixed with booing and jeers. The orcs at the door let Drogo pass, but they turned me away, it seems even with my coin I wasn’t welcome there. Just as I was turning to leave Brother Rothsby approached. He had words with the bouncers, I believe he mentioned I was with him, and the decided to grant me entrance. What I found inside was a fighting pit lined wall to wall with spectators. Along one wall there was a cask of some cheap liquor and several glasses that looked as though they hadn’t been properly cleaned in weeks. I didn’t even bother glancing around for the others, Drogo was probably somewhere offering odds and taking bets on the next round, and I was certain Shiri was just awaiting her turn.

A nice ring of about five feet formed around me almost as soon as I entered, an impressive feet considering how tight space seemed to be in the shack, except for the pit itself. After a few moments I heard Shiri offering a boisterous salutation as she swayed over to me. She wasn’t exactly drunk, I’d hate to wager just how much of ANY drink that feat would require, but she wasn’t entirely stable in her speech or her steps either. She tried valiantly to assuage their discomfort at my presence, though her efforts were in vain, and soon enough her turn in the pit did arrive.

Almost from the moment she entered the “arena” her senses cleared like clouds dissipating before the sun. Her opponent looked unsure as he entered the ring with her, perhaps he was concerned with the unchivalrous nature of what was about to unfold. If he’d known what was coming he would have felt more concern for his dignity than his honor. It was over before it ever really began. They advanced on one another, the young lad tried to outmaneuver Shiri by drawing her into a battle on his terms and Shiri played along dutifully, only the battle would end on her terms. She hefted her great blade with both hands and brought down in a great arc, the poor fool attempted to parry the blow but Sherri’s overwhelming might pushed through his pitiful defense and came crashing down where the boy’s neck met his shoulder.

Gods be good, if the blade had had an edge she’d have cleaved him clean in half! As it was she shattered his collar bone, though the way he’d collapsed in a heap I feared for a moment that she might have broken his neck. Shiri just let out a disappointed sigh as he crumpled to the ground, while the crowd had been loud a moment before, now it was silent. The way I gather it, the odds had not been on my companion, Shiri didn’t care about the odds or the crowd, she was there to drink and fight, and if the fight was over it was time to drink again. As she poured herself fresh round and took a long draw from it, however, the crowd broke into a round of cheers, Shiri just shrugged as she drank and sat down into the nearest vacant seat to await the next bout.

Over the roar of the spectators I heard Brother Rothsby calling for me, which snapped me out the stupor Shiri’s display had left me in. I rushed forward to help him tend to the wounded party. After we determined the severity of his injuries, Brother Rothsby was forced to put an end to the festivities, the man was going to need extensive care.

Once his wounds were properly tended Brother Rothsby excused himself for the night, though not before bidding me to get some sleep. “Rest up, it’s going to be an exciting day tomorrow,” he instructed me. By the gods, I hope not. ~

 

A/N: Rachel’s character, Shiri, was a little stronger than we had expected, Adam had designed the fighting pit to be a first glimpse of combat, however, she won initiative and she crit on the opening hit. No planning for that, and since we’d all had to create our characters that night we called it after that little bit.

I sure hope I didn’t bog you all down too much in Etrigan’s backstory, the truth is that we spent much of the first session exploring the town on our own, we weren’t a party yet, not our characters at least, and since we weren’t all in one place my character didn’t experience much, though to be fair I don’t think there was too much excitement for the others either, aside from an old woman trying to set Shiri up with one of her half-orc grandsons. Anyway I hope this was an enjoyable enough distraction for the rest of you, and I promise there will be much plot development (and combat) in the next session, I missed this one personally but Adam has provided me with some great notes, plus we get a few new players next session.