Taszi's Journal

Got picked up by a carriage heading for The Crossing. Quiet ride, mostly.

There was a warforged already on the cart when I climbed aboard — solitary type, just watched. Odd to see one travelling alone. A very talkative dwarf joined next; he started unloading his entire life story. I tuned most of it out. Last was a young human with a pristine gun that looked like it had never been fired. Polite, at least.

Then goblins blew up our cart.

I took an arrow to the shoulder. The human — Eli — rushed to help and healed me. Sheriff Pike arrived alone, drove off the goblins himself, and escorted us to town.

Dr Harrow took blood for “tests”. Felt like she took half of it. Not suspicious at all.

The warforged kept following me around town. A little unsettling. Eventually we got names:

• Human: Eli

• Dwarf: Ragunk (“Rag”)

• Warforged: 143 (cannot eat beans, apparently. Tragic.)

I asked Lane the bartender about the graveyard. Rumours of ghosts at night, but no injuries. Strange things for ghosts to do, stranger still that no one’s actually been harmed. Around the same time we learnt two people had recently died outside town: Bella and Benjamin. Sheriff Pike pointed us towards looking into it.

There are three goblins on the bounty board, and word of Hoof Unbound — a centaur band using dark magics and known for gruesome killings. Lovely neighbourhood.

I arranged a week’s lodging and food while the boys went to scout the graveyard. Later we headed out properly to watch the place.

We set up to stake out the graveyard overnight.

Eli wanted to try speaking with the ghosts. I had my doubts, but if he wants to chat up the dead, that’s his business. He buried blessed cartridges to stop Benjamin rising again. It worked.

Turned out the restless spirit in the graveyard wasn’t Benjamin at all, but the ghost of Bella’s first husband, furious she’d moved on.

So yes: ghost diplomacy.

We sought out Benjamin. He was much quieter than his reputation, already shaken, and apologising. He and Bella had wanted to rest together in death, but her will had her buried with her first husband instead. That mismatch is what stirred everything up.

Eli sanctified Benjamin’s body with the blessed bullets. Rag helped dig. Badly.

Eli went a bit green over the open casket, but finished the rite. Benjamin finally settled, and the jealous husband’s ghost let go.

Long night. Chapel first, then sleep.

The town gave us some coin for resolving their ghost problem. The group works surprisingly well together. Might be worth sticking with them for those goblin bounties.

Leads for next time:

• Ada at the chapel has clues about what we should do next.

• Thomas at the forge and Dr Harrow might have work for us.

Morning summons.
Sheriff Pike wanted a word, so we stopped by before breakfast. Our “guide” turned out to be a goblin called Frank Winston. Mean face, shifty eyes. Claims he’ll help us catch another goblin named Grit. I don’t trust him as far as Ragunk Reivred can throw him.

Introductions, gossip, and breakfast theft.

• Eli Cartwright picked up a fan in the tavern and went all shy about it. I will absolutely tease him.

• The innkeeper is a racist sod; Eli got cornbread and I didn’t, so I stole half of his. No regrets.

• 143 apparently drinks lantern oil. Useful? Unclear.

• Frank says he knows where Grit stashes his loot, but not where Grit is at any given moment. Helpful as a hole in a bucket.

Into the wilds.
A day’s march to reach Grit’s stomping grounds. We secured a rough map, though Frank was about as helpful as damp tinder. Eli sensibly left trail markers — easy to get lost out here.

The crossroads man.
Met a sharp-dressed stranger in a black suit at the crossroads: Tolliver Vex. Shifty as hell, set 143’s stranger-danger on full wail. He tried to press a dagger on Frank; I stopped him and I took the deal myself to keep it out of worse hands.

• Vex isn’t human (and not a tiefling either).

• The blade is Soulfix — kills and keeps the soul. Vex wants it used.

• Devilishly handsome. Emphasis on devil.

• The dagger is mine now. Safer that way.

Stake-out and shenanigans.
We reached a pit where the loot was meant to be. I slipped down to scout and found Grit in the hole. Called the others in.

• Frank wanted to parley (he’s the only one who speaks Goblin). I still don’t trust him.

• Eli is as stealthy as a bull in a pottery shop and was also planning arson. Priorities.

• Frank distracted Grit… briefly. Grit smacked him. So much for “friends”.

Fight in the hole.
Frank and 143 struggled; lots of noise round the corner. Grit’s mate went down first. Then it was just Grit.

• We tried to take him alive (better bounty), but it turned ugly. Grit is dead. No choice.

• Taking Grit’s ears as proof.

Spoils & oddities.

• Found a trapped chest. I disarmed it beautifully and kept the mechanism — handy trap for later.

• Ledger recovered.

• Love letter discovered — Frank cackled like a lunatic. Turns out Grit was in love with Jack.

• Treasure map located. Eli and Frank read it together; Eli copied the points of interest onto his own map.

After-action.
Long day. We’ve a ledger and an ear; time to collect coin. Also: cornbread is love, cornbread is life.
Side note: Eli does not appreciate my long tongue. I think I unsettle him. Hilarious.

No news when we got up. Eli’s “girlfriend” was on the morning shift—the tavernkeeper’s daughter who’s hopelessly smitten. It’s entirely one-sided, which only makes it more fun to wind him up. He absolutely does not have a girlfriend; I just enjoy watching him turn pink.

I heard 143 had cornbread, so I stole it. He isn’t going to eat it anyway. Eli still doesn’t like the spurs Tolliver Vex gave me for the soul business—“devils are bad,” says the righteous one. We got paid for the two bandits we hauled in. Day off, allegedly, but there isn’t a brothel in town, so Eli will remain a virgin. Tragic. 143 sometimes leaks on the floor—oil, apparently—so I suppose that’s as close to a bodily function as a robot gets. He wanted a name; I suggested “Leaky Valve.” He hated it.

We set off for Chain Camp 7 in a hurry—Simone’s orders. There’s suspected Slow Coil in the camp, and 143 is from there. He went very still when he heard, in that way he does when the past taps him on the shoulder.

The journey gave us time to be idiots. Eli suggested “I spy.” He guessed mine immediately—apparently “Frank” was an easy guess from the colour green. Dismounting turned into a show: Eli stuck a graceful three-point landing, 143 dropped like a cat despite being the size of a cupboard, and Frank—less graceful, somehow unharmed—wobbled into place. Poor Selene took a tumble and scraped her arm. Frank informed us rolling is for fires, not trains. Noted.

Eli announced he’d named his horse “No Name,” the one we took back from the bandits. Around that time, while we were already arguing about names, I suggested “Driptray” for 143. He hated that too. Unimaginative. On the road we met Bob, a travelling tattooist with a moustache that could claim homestead rights. Eli decided to get ink—so much for the spotless good-boy image. Frank revealed he keeps a carnivorous mouse called Randall (a lady) and insists she’s his first and only love. He tried to choose Eli’s tattoo; Eli said no. Frank got Randall inked; Eli got his religious symbol—the revolver barrel.

Halfway there the horizon boiled into a mushroom cloud and the air went oven-hot. A mad goblin—Boom-Boom—was test-firing something called Dragon Breath. Frank and 143 immediately started playing hot potato with live ordnance. Boom-Boom hurled a bomb, Frank lobbed it back, the crate went up, and we all got roasted. Fucking hell. I’m fairly sure Boom-Boom didn’t walk away from that.

At Chain Camp 7 the gate was held by a cranky dwarf called Ronald, allegedly a triplet—Receipt and the other one slipped my mind. The entry fee had mysteriously expanded; Selene’s coin apparently covered exactly one person, and Frank’s pockets remain purely decorative. Eli paid. Inside, we had to find the afflicted without alerting dwarves who can see in the dark. Awkward, as Eli, Selene, and 143 are effectively blind when the lamps go out, and there were guards everywhere. I attempted stealth; the camp attempted vigilance; the camp won. Alarms. Shouting. Steel.

We fought off the night guards long enough to do some good. One of my own—a yuan-ti—was too far gone with Slow Coil. I asked 143 to give them a merciful death. He did it cleanly. It hurt to watch, but it was right. Selene examined two orcs in the quarantine pen, scratching out symptoms and patterns until the next wave of boots started to converge.

A band of tieflings crashed the party on our side, which evened the odds. In the chaos we slipped chains and freed three warforged, then withdrew with the tieflings to their camp. At last: rest. Tomorrow we sort our next move—start with Selene’s notes on Slow Coil and decide where to ferry the freed warforged. Eli can keep scowling at my devil-spurs if he likes. I’d rather carry a trap I can see than step into one I can’t. We hate sand. We’re still breathing. Good enough for now.

We’re not allowed in the tiefling tents. Rude. The tiefling leader is a bit of a bitch, but we’re following them to wherever their main camp is. Apparently she says we yuan-ti “shit in the water.” Charming.

Rag is approaching the camp, scaring the poor orc slaves. I put an arrow past his ear for fun. He’s got a tiefling on the horse with him—she was also attacked by the goblin woman, last survivor. Her name is Lyrana. No Name apparently knew where Eli was and trotted straight there like he’d read a map.

The new tiefling did a full 180 approaching the tieflings in the camp. A little sus… Lyrana approached a tiefling and, when she saw his emblem, turned right around. Spine went stiff, eyes went distant. Noted.

Tieflings signal an attack is coming. Time to fight. Oh—the bitch’s name is Navarra.

Some dwarves decided to hunt us down. Two of them can’t do much damage to us. Oh wait—there’s more… of course there is.

Lyrana just tried to make a campfire under a horse’s feet. Inspired. Navarra is a “C u next Tuesday”, stealing my kill with a neat little flourish. We’ll leave in the morning. Hopefully these orcs can find a new home away from these dwarves.

On the march, we stopped following the tieflings about halfway. Didn’t like the feel of it. We split the rescued: half of the warforged stayed with us, and half went on with the tieflings. This was before the orcs told us anything about infections or intentions.

I’ll get some rest—fuck knows I need it after today. Lyrana doesn’t know 10 ft, apparently. The group huddled and chatted about the tieflings, but they didn’t wake me. Bastards.

Eli is bribing an attack dog with his rations. He’ll run out if he keeps this up. He created water for us. At least the tieflings can’t say we shat in this. Apparently these tieflings are bad, according to Lyrana. We shouldn’t go with them. We need to figure out where to send the orcs. Lyrana says she has a place where they can be safe.

I explained why we were at the chain camp. Rag now knows why we slaughtered a camp of dwarves.

One of the orcs told me the chain camp put the sick yuan-ti in a pen, then put the slaves in the pens to infect them. It was intentional. Rag thinks the chain camp has a failsafe or a cure—something isn’t right. We found a chest with a skeleton on it, which must have been trapped, surely. It smells kind of like poison. Eli is opening it. Curiosity killed the cat, I guess.

Oh, it’s on a carpet of snakes. Flying snakes. We’re lassoing the chest, but the rope bitch-slapped a bunch of the snakes. They are NOT happy. The air turned into a hiss.

BIG payday from the chest, though. Eli lost the dog he got from the dwarves—the snakes poisoned it. Sad times. He went quiet. So did I.

No signs of Boom-Boom the goblin on the way back. He’s probably dead; the explosion was pretty damn impressive.

Three guards at the Crossing. Maybe Rag and Eli can talk to them. Worst case, we’ll have to kill them.

We need to get back to Dustveil Crossing.

The dwarf lady didn’t buy the story Rag and Eli were selling. Seems like we are fighting.

Rag got launched into the ravine, but he bounced back up really fast. Impressive for a stocky thing like him. Like a keg with springs.

Eli and I will head back to Dustveil, and Lyrana and Rag lead the orcs and warforged to safety.