The dreams had been haunting me for weeks. Dreams of destruction and death and hovering eyes, urging me to go to Greenest. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have paid them all that much attention, but a chance comment by Kadence (a charming young lady who performs Tuesdays at The Laughing Pony) about her having the exact same nightmares made me think something might be up. Then Grrr, a druid friend of ours who brews potions skillfully, but somehow can’t figure out the difference between well-brewed beer and horse piss, overheard and mentioned that he’d been having the same dreams as well. Something was clearly wrong, when even a human was having dreams that I’d taken to be messages from my family’s patron. (Is Grrr human? Hard to tell sometimes, under the layers of dirt.)
We signed on as caravan guards for Baydale Woofall for 30 gp apiece to get his caravan to Greenest. That tall human who’s always trying to get Kadence drunk had also joined the caravan as a guard. He said something about getting a letter from an old mentor in Greenest. At least he isn’t sharing the dreams, too.
After a pretty uneventful journey, we reached Greenest, only to discover that it was under attack by a dragon and some dragon-worshiping cultists. In a blatant breach of contract, Woofall refused to pay us until we made the town safe for him to sell his goods in.
We SNUCK VERY QUIETLY through a ravine that led toward the keep in the center of town. Somehow, the preternaturally-aware kobold guards spotted us anyway, and attacked us (to their detriment). After exiting the ravine, we rescued a fleeing family from more kobolds, and — knowing kobold senses are keen, but their minds are as sharp as spoons — pretended be cultists chasing the family ourselves, until we’d chased them all the way into the keep.
The keep was
an island of well-organized calm semi-organized by some nutcase in a nightgown. He begged us to go fix the postern gate for them. We went to check it out, and I discovered a lovely and comfortable red robe and amulet ensemble free for the taking. (There may have been some objection from the cultist who owned them previously or her kobold minions, but if so, it was very brief.)
While Kadence fixed the bar on the gate, the tall human who’s always trying to get her drunk and I stood guard outside, and ordered a passing cultist and kobold patrol to help us guard it until she was done. I did mention that their minds are sharp as spheres, right?
We went back to Mr. Nightgown to tell him that his gate was fixed, hoping that maybe now they’d pay us, or at least give us somewhere to sleep. Hahaha! No.
Mr. Nightgown told us that he couldn’t even think of paying us until someone (by which he meant “someone from out of town, which is to say us”) stopped the cultists trying to burn down the town mill. We headed out through the town sewers (clearly an attempt to break our will, combining exposure to this harsh environment with a refusal to let us rest) to the mill.
At the mill, we discovered it was actually an ambush specifically for us, because the head cultist was sick of us leading her minions around by the nose and making them look like idiots. I maintain that they don’t need our assistance, but I digress. Anyway, we took a high-ranking cultist (who was previously in a lovely purple robe) prisoner, and then dragged our prisoner and the unconscious body of the tall human who’s always trying to get Kadence drunk back to the keep.
We went back to Mr. Nightgown to tell him that his mill was safe, hoping that maybe now they’d pay us, or at least give us somewhere to sleep. Hahaha! No.
Mr. Nightgown told us that he couldn’t even think of paying us until someone rescued the civilians trapped in the local church of Chauntea. Sensing a pattern yet? I sure was.
After yet another journey through the town’s lovely and fragrant sewer system, we arrived at the temple, only to find it surrounded by multiple groups of cultists and kobolds. We killed them, of course, and led the civilians back to the keep.
We went back to Mr. Nightgown to tell him that his civilians were safe, hoping that maybe now they’d pay us, or at least give us somewhere to sleep. Hahaha! No.
Turns out that the head of the invading army — some kind of dragon half-breed — was demanding that someone face him in single combat, in exchange for some children his men had taken prisoner. Luckily, that tall human who’s always trying to get Kadence drunk was enough of a sucker to go for it. The tall human who’s always trying to get Kadence drunk lasted almost six seconds, too.
We went back to Mr. Nightgown, and he finally gave us a room for the night.
(What in the nine hells have these townspeople been eating? Maybe we should have burnt down the mill ourselves, just to save future sewer travelers the stench.)
How does that even work? The mechanics boggle the mind.