The Jungle's Claw #029
General Summary
The Journey North Begins
Game date: 8th thru 10th day of the Firefly, Year 13944 Dawn broke over the weathered docks near The Jungle's Claw Tavern, where Grimwhisker and Doomtail—rats bearing an otherworldly curse—scurried through shadowed corners. The mighty Rustleech awaited, its iron-clad hull bearing proud colors of House Ironwake. Captain Malista Tinmaw, a seasoned goblin commander whose mechanical arm bore arcane runes of power, stood at the helm of what would become a month-long voyage spanning eight hundred and twenty-five miles of treacherous waters. Kurgan, the grizzled mercenary proprietor of The Jungle's Claw, had arranged passage for our heroes aboard this formidable vessel. Their destination: the infamous city of Grizberg, where Slazgar Two-Eyes awaited with promises of adventure in the Whispering Depths. The mysterious craftsman's mechanical eye, which pierced veils of truth that mortal sight could not penetrate, had become legendary since his return to the city eight years prior. The Rustleech stood as a marvel of engineering, its twin Brinkburn alchemical engines marking it among the finest vessels of House Ironwake's fleet. These mechanical wonders, crafted by the renowned artificers of the Brinkburn family, drew envious gazes from rival houses. Most notably, House Greenglade and their ambitious captain, Streak Haldar of the Golden Reed, whose notorious vendetta against Captain Tinmaw had claimed numerous lives in recent months. Fouk Shadim, the Vorcian rogue whose mastery of the Dagger of Peake had awakened deeper arcane interests, found himself drawn to the ship's mechanical marvels. His attempts to curry favor with Durlag Steamgrip, the surly dwarven engineer, met with cold dismissal. The dwarf's protective nature toward the Brinkburn engines suggested secrets beyond mere technological innovation. Thronn Zamda, the half-orc ranger marked by childhood encounter with a great white crocodile, spent his early hours aboard scanning the waters. The loss of his pinky finger at age five had left more than physical scars, and now rumors spoke of the same beast terrorizing these waters, grown to mythic proportions. His loyal companion, the vulture dog Meat-Beak, stalked the metal passageways in pursuit of the Rustleech's veteran rats, whose generations of nautical cunning left the would-be hunter snapping at empty shadows and echoing squeaks. Sherman, whose cursed puppets contained the essence of his fallen brother Gherman, drew wary glances from the crew. His peculiar nature manifested in an ill-advised offering of a three-day-old fish taco to Old Muck Fingers, a veteran goblin crewman whose weathered face bore testament to countless river voyages. The ancient sailor's rejection of this "gift" would become a source of dark humor among the crew. BöötMóöntch, the Aasimar Blood Hunter, maintained a vigilant watch from near the crow's nest, his otherworldly nature lending him keen insight into the supernatural threats that lurked in these waters. His particular distaste for undeath would soon prove relevant, as tales emerged of House Ashen Chain—the ninth and most controversial of the river houses—whose ships bore crews of animated corpses bound by dark magics. The second day brought nature's fury in a monsoon of terrifying intensity. Rain hammered the deck with such force that the riveted plates groaned beneath its assault. The crew scrambled to prevent flooding, with Fouk demonstrating his growing magical prowess through telekinetic manipulation of the waters. Despite his impressive display, even this arcane intervention could only stem the tide temporarily. During this crisis, Sherman's attempts to aid were hampered by his puppets' resistance to manual labor, while Thronn's ranger expertise proved surprisingly ineffective against the storm's fury. The ship sustained minor damage—mere scratches compared to what might have been, thanks to the combined efforts of all aboard. Deep in the vessel's hold, mysteries beckoned. Beyond mundane supplies and weapons lay locked lockers whose contents remained unknown, and cages housing exotic beasts—most notably a fearsome sabertooth whose roars echoed through the metal corridors. These discoveries spoke to the true nature of their voyage, and the secrets Captain Tinmaw kept close. The morning of the third day brought them to the notorious Witch's Bend, where eight years prior, the powerful covens that had dominated these waters vanished in conjunction with Slazgar's return. The timing sparked speculation among those who remembered the time before, though none dared voice their theories too loudly. A choking fog descended upon the waters, thick with supernatural malevolence. Through this murk, while the crew battled nausea and disorientation, the lookout's cry pierced the air—a titanoboa of monstrous proportions had emerged from the depths. Known as Vaersliss, the River's Coil, this legendary serpent threatened to engulf the entire vessel, its colossal form bearing two hundred and thirty hit points of primal might. The fog brought more than mere visual impediment. A foul miasma clung to the mists, testing the constitution of all aboard. Even the hardened BöötMóöntch felt his stomach turn as the supernatural vapors worked their dark influence. The crew spoke of witch-tainted waters in hushed whispers, though Captain Tinmaw's expression betrayed no fear—only grim determination. The River Lords' complex politics cast long shadows over their voyage. Beyond House Ironwake and their bitter rivals in House Greenglade, seven other powers controlled commerce along these waters. The Crimson Chain maintained a stranglehold on conventional cargo transport, while the mysterious Mirror Guild's black-sailed vessels dealt exclusively in cargo sourced from the Serpent's Mirror. House Viperhand specialized in diplomatic exchanges, and the Brass Covenant's experimental vessels incorporated salvaged technologies from the Whispering Depths. House Stormforge maintained a facade of legitimacy while orchestrating "accidents" that eliminated rival ships, and the Leviathan Compact focused on specialized transport of live cargo—perhaps explaining the exotic beasts in the Rustleech's hold. Most notorious was House Ashen Chain, whose radical approach to river trade involved vessels crewed entirely by the undead, their captains having discovered ways to bind river spirits to corporeal forms. The crew's efficiency spoke to years of experience navigating these treacherous waters. First Mate Lockjaw Ghurak, a towering half-orc, maintained strict discipline while Navigator Esra "Star-Eyes" Solwin's glowing blue eyes seemed to pierce the very fog itself. Quartermaster Vixla Fleetfoot, a shrewd halfling, kept careful watch over their supplies, while Cook Mira Wren's cheerful disposition provided welcome relief from the journey's tensions. Throughout these trials, Kurgan's presence served as both comfort and command. His relationship with Captain Tinmaw spoke of years of shared voyages and mutual respect, though both kept their secrets close. He had warned the party of the river's dangers, including the toxic algae that would require all hands to defend against, wielding long poles to keep the caustic blooms from the hull. As they ventured deeper into Witch's Bend, the weight of history pressed upon them. The timing of Slazgar's return and the covens' disappearance suggested darker forces at work. Some whispered that his mechanical eye held powers beyond mortal comprehension, while others spoke of bargains struck in depths where ancient horrors swayed. Fouk's growing magical abilities had proven invaluable during the monsoon, but even these paled before the challenges that lay ahead. The toxic waters grew more concentrated as they pressed northward, requiring constant vigilance from all aboard. Even the Rustleech's specially treated hull might not withstand prolonged exposure to the worst concentrations. The appearance of Vaersliss served as a grim reminder that nature's fury paled before the ancient powers that dwelt in these waters. As the massive serpent's form cut through the poisonous fog, our heroes steeled themselves for battle, knowing that their journey had only begun to reveal its dangers. The River Vo held many secrets, and each mile brought them closer to truths that had slumbered beneath these dark waters since time immemorial.Rewards Granted
Consumed Resources and Expended Materials
Time and Distance Record
Journey Duration: 3 DaysDistance Covered: 75 miles
Estimated Remaining Distance to Grizberg: 750 miles
Average Speed: 27 miles per day (accounting for current and conditions)
Weather Conditions Log
Day 1: Clear skies, favorable windsDay 2: Severe monsoon, structural stress test
Day 3: Supernatural fog at Witch's Bend, DC 13 Constitution saves required
Ship's Damage Report
Hull Integrity: 490/500 HP remainingNotable Achievements and Awards
XP TRACKERExperience Points Distribution:
Notes for Further Investigation
1. Research needed regarding the correlation between Slazgar's return and the witch coven disappearances2. Monitor House Green Glade activities, particularly the Golden Reed's movements
3. Document the extent and nature of toxic algae blooms for future reference
4. Track the white crocodile's movements and reported attacks
5. Further investigation warranted into the undead-crewed vessels and their origins
Character(s) interacted with
Steam north past Witch's Bend and you'll find the waters grow fouler with each league. Even our treated hull can't weather those caustic blooms forever. Keep your poles ready, and pray to whatever gods you hold that the fog doesn't roll in.
I've seen bigger fish swimming in my morning rum. At least they have the decency to be hallucinations.
Call that fishing? My grandmother caught more impressive prey in her chamber pot. And she lived in the desert.
Eight years... eight years since Slazgar vanished into shadow, only to return bearing that mechanical eye that peers through veils of truth. And in those same dark days, the witch covens that ruled these waters were struck down by powers none dare name. Coincidence? Perhaps. But I've dealt with Slazgar long enough to know he keeps his greatest secrets buried deep.
Get the fuck out of my engine room, landwalker. These Brinkburn marvels aren't for your prying eyes, and your questions smell of Green Glade spies.
Watched young Streak Haldar grow from cabin boy to captain, I did. Now 'e struts about his Golden Reed like a crowned prince, thirstin' fer glory 'e ain't earned. Mark me words - that striped hair o' his hides a head full o' venom.
Ptew!! Dead-Gods damn ye! In sixty years on these waters, I've swallowed river water, swamp mud, and me own teeth. But that? That'd be first time me stomach tried to jump ship, ye scurvy-bastard!
All hands to stations! By all the Dead Gods of Nolavor, that's no river serpent - that's Homebrew Vaersliss, the River’s Coil! Brace for impact!
These undead crews... there's something unnatural about them, beyond the obvious. The way they move, the way they obey... it's as if something darker than mere necromancy pulls their strings. The other houses shun them for good reason.
Report Date
10 Jan 2025
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