Chapter 12: Guardians of the Greenbelt¶
Prologue - Grotdor¶
Fire answers when called. Clean and quick.
I watch the others pack our camp in the gray light before dawn. The gold mine sits behind us—a hole in the earth that promises wealth, guarded now by nothing but branches and silence. The bandits who worked it are ash and memory. That is the way of things. Strike at the opening, then move on.
My family would have schemed for months over a find like this. Father would have set my brothers and sisters against each other, watching to see who could claim it, who could hold it, who would betray whom in the taking. That was how we were forged—sibling against sibling, trust a weakness to be exploited. I still carry the scars from my early missteps, marks left by flames I could summon but not yet control.
These companions are different. Elroy needs steel—his shield lies shattered somewhere in the kobold caves—but he does not scheme to take more than his share. Perry calculates, but his mind works toward the group's advantage, not his own elevation. Rust heals without keeping ledgers of favors owed. Even Dravyn, with his arcane power, shares rather than hoards.
My siblings called me "the Burninator" as mockery. My friends use it with something like respect. The difference matters more than I expected.
We will explore this area
before heading north to Oleg's. There is work to do—bandits to break, territory to claim, a kingdom to build. Not for my father's house. Not as one pawn in an endless family feud. This path is mine.
The sun rises over the Greenbelt. Somewhere ahead, things wait to be burned. But this time, I choose the targets.
Morning at the Gold Mine¶
The morning of the ninth of Pharast dawned bright and sunny over the Greenbelt. Only a few lazy clouds drifted across the sky as spring warmth began to chase away the morning chill. The party awoke at the gold mine they had discovered the previous day, its entrance still camouflaged with hastily arranged branches from their concealment efforts the night before.
Rust poked his head into the shallow excavation, his goblin eyes adjusting quickly to the amber glow of the abandoned lantern within. The walls were striated with veins of gold, and already the bandits had left proof of the vein's worth—a single ingot, dense and gleaming, worth a small fortune. He collected it without ceremony, though he noted the irony of picking up treasure from a hole that still smelled of charred flesh.
Elroy moved restlessly through their camp, his hand repeatedly drifting to his side where a familiar weight no longer hung. His shield—the one that had turned aside so many blows meant for their wizard, their healer, for all of them—had been destroyed in the kobold caves. He did not complain. That was not his way. But Rust saw how the guardian's posture shifted without that reassurance, how he unconsciously adjusted his stance.
The party decided to fully explore the area before heading north, hoping to complete their survey of the Rostland Hinterlands.
The Spider’s Nest¶
As the party emerged from the Greenbelt's forest edge into the plains of the Rostland Hinterlands, they came upon a disturbing scene. A large hole gaped in the earth, surrounded by thick, silky cobwebs that draped in stringy masses across nearby trees. An abandoned campsite showed signs of violence—torn tents, bloodstains, and several desiccated corpses hung from branches, wrapped in webbing. The silence was complete; not even ravens dared approach this place of death.
Rust looked at Elroy incredulously. The question didn't need voicing—who on earth would make camp in such a place?
Near a ruined tent sat an iron-bound wooden chest, battered from the elements but unlocked. Perry examined it with methodical care, his fingers testing edges and seams, finding no traps or mechanisms. The chest contained a silver Stag Lord amulet, neatly folded leather armor, a short sword, some silver pieces, and a map. As Elroy began unfolding the map, a chittering sound erupted from the darkness below.
The Trapdoor Horror¶
The creature that emerged was massive—a giant trapdoor spider, its hairy legs spanning nearly as wide as Elroy was tall. It moved with terrifying speed, bursting from its silken lair and descending upon Dravyn with fangs that dripped with venom.
Elroy was there before anyone could draw breath.
The guardian threw himself into the creature's path, intercepting the strike meant for their wizard. Fangs sank into his arm instead, and he felt the burn of poison trying to spread through his veins. He flexed his muscles, forcing the venom out through sheer will and physical defiance. The creature's second bite skittered off his plate armor with a sound like popping rivets.
Dravyn responded with thunder and force. A spell crackled from his fingertips, but the spider's reflexes proved supernatural—it twisted away from the worst of the blast. His glaive followed, sweeping through empty air as the creature skittered aside.
Perry, meanwhile, had slipped behind Elroy, using the guardian's bulk as cover. He studied the spider with the cold precision of a man cataloguing weaknesses rather than fearing for his life. His assessment was swift and thorough—the creature's armored hide offered no particular vulnerabilities, but it could bleed. His crossbow hissed, and a bolt punched through the spider's abdomen. When the creature's many eyes tracked his movement, he merely adjusted his position, unperturbed.
Rust's magic manifested as needles of force that punched into the spider's thorax. He tried to direct Dog into the fray, but his wolf companion cowered at the sight of the massive arachnid, refusing to approach despite repeated commands. The goblin healer couldn't blame him.
Grotdor answered with fire. Flame gathered in his hands with controlled intensity, and he sent a lance of heat into the spider's side. The creature's legs snapped as chitin blackened and split. Green ichor began leaking across the ground.
Elroy pressed the advantage. His cold iron longsword carved through the creature's thorax, drawing a horrific screech. Without his shield to bang, he waved his blade menacingly, drawing the spider's attention through sheer presence—a taunt without words, a challenge that even a mindless predator understood.
The spider lunged at him three times in succession, each strike more desperate than the last. The first fangs missed his armor by a hair's breadth. The second went wide. The third—the creature stumbled over its own wounded legs, missing so badly it nearly collapsed.
Dravyn finished it. Three bolts of pure force streaked from his hands in rapid succession, each one punching through the spider's body with mechanical precision. The creature squealed, its belly bursting open as it collapsed with a soft, final thud.
Perry's follow-up bolt was almost unnecessary—but he loosed it anyway, piercing the spider's abdomen. One perfect shot. The plan had firmed, and the plan had worked.
Exploration of the Spider’s Lair¶
The party investigated the spider's hole, finding it lined with the remains of game animals—elk, deer, boar, and rabbits. The hunting spider had shown no interest in treasure, only food. There was nothing of value worth descending for, and the entire cavity was littered with sticky cobwebs.
The map from the chest showed a claw-shaped tree atop an otherwise barren hill, with an X drawn in blood next to the tree roots. The party recognized this immediately as the bandit stash they had already discovered and looted in a previous expedition. The map was worthless.
With nothing else of significance in the Rostland Hinterlands, the party traveled northwest to Oleg's Trading Post.
Return to Oleg’s Trading Post¶
The sound of hammering greeted the party as they approached the trading post. Three men-at-arms accompanied a knight in shiny plate armor who was nailing wanted posters to Oleg's door. When the knight lifted his bucket helmet, he revealed a dapper face—clean-shaven, with the confident bearing of a man who expected to be noticed.
Sir Kesten Garess introduced himself as a representative of Lady Jamandi Aldori, sent to check on the party's progress. He indicated the wall of wanted posters—bandits, kobolds, and worse—and explained that Lady Aldori had heard of their efforts against the banditry and offered her full support.
Perry mentioned the Stag Lord. They had heard of him. He was on their list.
Elroy added that they were making preparations.
Kesten explained that once the Stag Lord was removed from power, the party would be free to build their kingdom on whatever lands in the Greenbelt or Rostland Hinterlands they chose. Regarding the bounty on Stag Lord amulets, he noted they would need six more for the full reward. He also mentioned a personal matter—a man named Falgrim Sneeg had robbed his caravan and fled into the Greenbelt to become a bandit. Bringing him back alive would earn a proper reward.
The party presented Tartuccio's journal as evidence of the kobold conspiracy. Kesten accepted it readily—proof that Tartuccio Irovetti was working for someone against the Aldoris was sufficient. The kobold situation was considered resolved.
When Elroy asked about the fey inhabiting these woods, Kesten offered what wisdom he had. Don't eat anything they offer. Don't give them anything. If they ask a question, think three times before answering. They're tricksters who will steal your teeth and your undergarments if you're not careful.
But the key to dealing with fey, he said, was cold iron.
Kesten and his men would camp outside the trading post for a few weeks until the party's operation was established.
Shopping and Upgrading¶
The party entered the trading post to conduct extensive business with Oleg and Svetlana. With a merchant able to fetch goods from Brevoy within a day, even uncommon items were available.
Elroy acquired two steel shields—one to replace his destroyed one, another as a backup for the cart. He also purchased a cold iron longsword, mindful of Kesten's advice about the fey, and had a returning rune added to his javelin.
Grotdor received a Gate Attenuator to enhance his command of elemental fire.
Perry purchased a Pendant of the Occult and acquired three new alchemical formulas: Camouflage Dye, Cold Iron Blanch, and Spider Foot Brew.
The gold ingot and various accumulated loot were sold. Oleg paid twenty gold for the well-preserved owlbear head as a taxidermy specimen. All party members received their share of the proceeds.
When Perry produced Svetlana's wedding ring—the one that had changed hands between mitflits and kobolds before the party recovered it—her eyes went wide and misty. She held it to her chest and pressed fifty gold pieces into their hands as thanks.
Reformed Bandits¶
Svetlana reported that Nedrick and Carp were adjusting to their new lives. They were accustomed to drinking more than the trading post allowed, but keeping them busy with stable work and planting turnips was helping.
Elroy suggested that once the Stag Lord was dealt with, there might be opportunities for them—perhaps manning the abandoned fort or serving as the party's cart driver.
Nedrick, having been with them longest, was offered the position of cart driver. He had ridden horses before. He figured he could figure it out. Nothing too hard.
Carp, meanwhile, had become quite skilled at his new duties. He could identify animal waste from most quadrupedal creatures by sight and smell now.
When Elroy mentioned the ruined fort they had found, Carp's interest piqued. As long as they didn't plan on cutting off his ears and fingers, he was their man.
Only if he crossed them, Elroy assured him.
Amiri’s Tale and Tuskgutter¶
That evening, Amiri shared more of her story by the fire. The great hunt that earned her the frost giant's sword was meant to be her death sentence—sent by her clan to die.
When she came back victorious, her father the chieftain had died in his sleep. She always found that suspicious.
Elroy spoke of building a land where people could prove their own worth. Amiri stared into the flames. She would see it when she saw it. She knew nothing about government or society.
She marked Tuskgutter's lair on the party's map—southwest, maybe thirty or forty miles, on the western side of the Greenbelt River. The boar was tough. He had kicked the crap out of her, and she was not easy to beat. He had little piglets with him too.
Elroy promised they would face the beast together. Amiri lent her dagger to him, challenging him to kill Tuskgutter with it. In return, Elroy gifted her a greatsword—not her beloved blade, but serviceable until they recovered the tip from the boar's hide.
That night, Amiri taught the party how to enhance their weapons during camp—a technique she had learned in her wanderings, now added to the maintenance skills Valerie had shared.
Journey to Tuskgutter’s Lair¶
On Wealday, the tenth of Pharast, the party departed Oleg's with Amiri, heading south. They stopped at the moon radish patch where intoxicated kobolds lay on their backs, bellies distended, slowly plucking radishes into their mouths.
Dravyn produced the statue of Old Sharptooth. The kobolds reverently touched it, their eyes widening with religious fervor. They proclaimed that Old Sharptooth was real, that they could feel his power from the statue. The bigans and littleans had done good this day. They could take the radishes, and the kobolds would go home.
Amiri put her hands on her hips, incredulous that the party hadn't simply killed them. Elroy explained that in a few weeks, those kobolds would be giving them money. Amiri's attitude shifted immediately—she hadn't realized they had things thought out like that.
The party collected two baskets of moon radishes for Svetlana's quest and continued south, crossing the river at a known ford.
Tuskgutter’s Lair¶
On Oathday, the eleventh of Pharast, light rain fell as the party broke camp and prepared for battle. The enhanced weapon effect was placed on Amiri's dagger—the one Elroy would wield—and enhanced armor went on Dravyn.
Amiri nodded at the gray sky. A rainy day meant the pig would be hiding inside. They would be able to track the bastard down.
It took two or three hours of searching before they found it. A narrow part of the stream where an immense fallen oak—three to four hundred feet of massive trunk—had created a natural bridge. The bark was covered in lichen and moss, scored with deep grooves from massive tusks. Patches of dung mixed with fur and blood created an almost steel-wool texture along the surface. In the dark of the hollow below, muddy footprints of pigs could be seen—some small, and one set much, much larger.
As Elroy stepped onto the bridge, shield raised, grunting sounds erupted from the darkness. Tuskgutter emerged.
The beast was the size of a horse, with tusks four feet long sharpened to deadly points. His hide was a map of scars from lesser foes—a testament to decades of violence. One eye was missing, replaced by a vertical scar. The legendary boar let loose a wicked squeal, lowering his head as if to say he had taken down bigger things than them.
Amiri clutched her borrowed greatsword. She asked if they had her back. If they weren't going to let her die here.
Two smaller but still powerful boars flanked their sire, ready to charge.
The Battle on the Bridge¶
Tuskgutter charged before anyone else could react. The massive boar covered the distance in heartbeats, tusks aimed at Elroy's midsection. The guardian's shield caught the blow, absorbing the worst of it, though the impact still drove him back a step. Tuskgutter's second tusk sweep went wild, a natural two that saw the beast's momentum carry him off balance.
Dravyn responded with blazing bolts of fire. The first struck the smaller boar on the left with devastating precision—a critical hit that left the creature squealing in agony, its hide smoking. The second bolt missed Tuskgutter entirely, but the third caught the other powerful boar square in the flank, searing flesh.
Elroy banged his shield and bellowed his challenge, drawing Tuskgutter's attention with theatrical defiance. Then he drove Amiri's dagger into the legendary boar's scarred hide. His first strike landed true—nine points of damage. His second went wide.
Grotdor called fire to his hands. His first blast missed—the flames scattering against the rain—and even after spending extra effort to correct his aim, the shot still went wide. But his flying flame found its mark, a path of fire that swept through Tuskgutter's body. The boar failed to dodge, and seven points of fire damage joined his growing collection of wounds.
The second powerful boar charged Dravyn with devastating effect. The wizard couldn't evade in time, and only Elroy's intervention saved him from the full brunt of the attack. The guardian stepped in front of the blow, taking the critical hit himself—twenty points of damage that his natural resistance only partially absorbed.
Perry's crossbow hissed. His assessment of Tuskgutter had been swift—the creature's lowest defense was its reflexes, likely due to that missing eye. His bolt punched through the boar's hide for ten points of damage. A second shot struck the nearly-dead smaller boar, bringing it to the edge of death.
The first powerful boar, despite being at death's door, charged Dravyn anyway. The wizard took fourteen points of damage—his enhanced armor absorbing some, but not nearly enough.
Rust's healing magic washed over the battlefield in a warm surge of vitality. Thirteen points of restoration flowed into both Elroy and Dravyn, knitting wounds and steadying nerves.
Amiri roared into battle, her borrowed greatsword sweeping at Tuskgutter. Her first strike landed for nine points of damage. Her second and third swings went wide, the rain in her eyes throwing off her aim.
The battle on the tree bridge raged on, with Tuskgutter still very much a threat—wounded but far from defeated, his one good eye burning with primal fury.
The hunt broke off with the legendary boar wounded but dangerous. One powerful boar clung to life while the other had taken significant fire damage. The party would need to finish what they had started—and recover the broken tip of Amiri's frost giant sword from the beast's scarred hide.