A Second Chance at Martyrdom

4 Mirtul

I may have overestimated how valuable the items in the Rat Hills would be.

Early successes probably clouded the reality that it is quite literally a dump. Of course, there wouldn’t be a ton of valuables left discarded with the Dungsweeper’s Guild having first pickings. Anything we found was probably missed or looked over by people who likely make a living off of skimming anything valuable before it went to get dumped.

All the more readily accessible loot already picked over from my last few visits working with the lizardfolk. I can’t exactly search very well for things properly buried in the massive mounds of garbage.Not that there’s nothing there of value, but I might be better off cutting back on my visits.

So the next step is to figure out how to establish a place locally accessible where I can store my insects to work with so I can start on my silk production and venom harvesting. I’ll have to see if I can get my way into the clan’s lair and negotiate with their chieftain, and figure out if they can scrounge the raw coinage to invest in a place to work out of.

I’ll be busy the next few days though, assuming it goes the same as last year. Pelsot insists on Virla taking us kids out to watch many of the races during the Plowing and Running, and I can hardly come up with a convenient excuse to get out of it.

17 Mirtul

I met with Chief Balthsvk today, after gaining permission to enter the clan’s den. It is a cave system built into a rocky hill, maybe a third of a mile from the southeastern border of the Rat Hills. They said it was originally owned by a clan of “Kobolds”, a diminutive lizard-like humanoid species. The lizardfolk “moved in” after finding the kobold clan weakened after skirmishing with some other group.

Originally much of the area was cramped, given that Kobolds stood at a little less than my current height. They spent the early years expanding much of it. I can see the effort and organization put into it.

There are what seem to be underground pools dug out, fed by either groundwater or rainwater. I could feel a number of small shellfish within a few of them, some sort of shrimps or prawns I am unfamiliar with. There were also some fish that I could notice in other pools, so they must be farming them as a food source. The clan seemed fairly well fed now that the warmer part of the year had started. With all the snow melted, their hunters are able to travel again.

I also learned the name of the clan, Persvek Casein, which apparently directly translates to “In a forest”. My past interactions have taught me how literal they tend to be for naming things, but it’s also somewhat strange to find them in such a place. I asked Orsik a few seasons back about what he knew of the lizardfolk, and he told me how they typically settle more in marshland or coastal areas. As close as they were to the ocean, this was still surprisingly inland for what he explained to me.

The meeting with Balthsvk was swift though, intimidating as it was. I trusted their interest in me as an ally, enough at least to see that attacking me wouldn’t be beneficial to them. Killing the golden goose, which is apparently a metaphor they did not actually understand even if the sentiment made sense. I had to explain it to my escorts on my way out when I voiced it because apparently, they don’t really do metaphors.

The meeting room was a fairly sizable cave. Maybe a dozen members held some sort of council when I arrived. The chieftain stood perhaps a foot taller than the others, making him stand out from the group. I couldn’t really begin to guess at the roles of most others since they only spoke in a strange guttural hissing language I couldn’t hope to identify. One of my escorts was recognizable as one of the traders who would go into the city, I think named Munthrarechi, their word for the commonly spoken language, acted as translator for me.

Thankfully, it seemed the chieftain was of a sensible bent who recognized the possible value and payoff for my proposal. The clan would help finance and act as a proxy of a proxy for the purchase of some small property in the city close enough to where I lived, along with what meagre funds I still had saved. In exchange, I would spend time weaving them silken clothes. I had managed to secretly weave a small square of it at home with some of the spiders in the local area gorged on the freshly hatching insects of spring. One of the lizards tested it by attempting to cut it with a blade and showed that while somewhat inferior to black widow silk, it was still reasonably cut-proof.

They also wanted a cut of any profits I could make in the short term with venom harvesting, as that would be far easier to set up and have them handle as proxies. They could claim to have done it themselves out in the wilderness so as to sell them to registered apothecaries. Ideally, in the future we might be able to be more established, but with the lack of proper workshops, it would be difficult to truly do at the scale required. Seventy-five percent of any earnings until I paid off their initial investment, then a sixty-forty split in my favour.

Fairly generous all things considered, I wasn’t exactly in a position where I needed the funds in the short term. The agreement wouldn’t be started until I did research on my end of things for a property that could be suitable, then they would need to find a broker to help out.

2 Kythorn

I’m exhausted after spending the afternoon with Pelsot and Jespa trick or treating, or “troll scratching” as they call it here for Trolltide. Jespa is old enough this year to participate more actively than before, much to her delight.

Virla had been working with her on sewing up some sort of troll mask, a green bumpy thing with a large outstretched nose and big tusks made of painted wood. It was fairly good all things considered, better than a lot of the other kids bothered with. It was also a hit once our trio met up with the local group of kids.

Many treats were obtained, though most decided to devour them as they got them. I managed to persuade my siblings to store them in bags to be eaten over the course of the next few days instead, like proper trick or treating.

20 Kythorn

Today was supposed to be Dragondown, that celebration about driving dragons away from the city. Instead, the city was sent into a panic around noontime, priests running up and down the streets alerting everyone of the news.

The Lord of Murder has returned.

Nobody was entirely sure of what happened until the evening, but evidently, the clergy must have felt or been informed of what had happened. Bhaal, the once slain god, had somehow resurrected. What that means for the city, or the realm as a whole, was unclear.

When word arrived, we learned of a very public tragedy down in Baldur’s Gate. The head of the Flaming Fist, the local military group, Abdel Adrian was challenged by some sort of assassin mid-public speech. One killed the other, and the survivor transformed into some sort of unholy demonic creature that went on to slaughter a portion of the crowd that had gathered.

People seem fearful and confused. Baldur’s Gate might be well south of us, but the return of one of the more evil gods known has left a number of questions. Some have started to be doomsayers, suggesting it is a sign of a return to a more violent time. Others reason that it won’t impact the city for a long time, if ever. It would take years for him to build up any sort of significant following, especially one that would directly threaten Waterdeep.

Nice as that sentiment is, I doubt it’s comforting for those in more remote and vulnerable settlements, or those living in Baldur’s Gate.

From what little I’ve gleaned from what stories people have shared about the Cult of Bhaal, they seem like the sort to get along swimmingly with the Slaughterhouse Nine.