The Syndicate once again sent out a band with the aim of resolving this goblin problem around the Shining Falls area. I suggested we go to the Zhentarim and ask for any information they may have (seeing as how their mark was on the strategy map found previously in the goblin encampment). I figured if they were having their business disrupted by goblins also, then it would behoove them to trade with us. However Solia and Bri seemed more inclined toward the Emerald Enclave with this tactic. So we went there instead.

We encountered an insufferable Harper who needed safe escort to the Emerald Enclave grove, so we took him with us and delivered him. The druids et al pointed us to a dryad friend of theirs who had gone missing, so we went there, fought and killed a "banderhobb", freeing the dryad, the end. By the way, a recovered journal or missive or whatever informed us that the banderhobb had been created and placed in this area by the Zhentarim in apparent alliance with the Axebiter goblins. So. Maybe next time we listen to Gyaba. I am, after all, quite skilled at cutting straight to the heart of a problem. 🗡

Anyway, we reclaimed our pay for our efforts from the bodies of the slain. Which included two hobgoblin fighters, one hobgoblin mage, a quadrupedal wingless dragon shitfuck, and the banderhobb.

We failed our contracted task -- locating and apprehending an escaped criminal, Elsie Rumknuckle -- and were therefore rightly unpaid by the contractee.

What follows is provided simply as context for the above statement.

During our visit to Honeypuddle, we were caught in the crossfire of two smallfolk gods feuding over the Pudding Faire that was occurring that same day, and as such what seems to you to have been a one-day failed contract on 14 Alturiak was, to myself and my coworkers, two weeks of increasing inanity as we relived the same day over and over until we finally succeeded in creating a specific series of circumstances. I will not belabor you with the details. Suffice it to say that I had to shove my hand down an idiot halfling's throat and save him from choking on a live eel every day for 12 days. While also expending an inordinate amount of energy failing to convince Sylthas to stop being a liability.

Let the record show that the only reason we were trapped in this time loop is because Sylthas deliberately exposed the group to the arguing gods when we were, up to that point, successfully hidden and out of harm's way. Let the record also show that the specific circumstances we had to create were "the perfect day", ergo the Faire going off without a hitch, ergo everyone being safely able to enjoy the festivities without mishap. We were all of us made perfectly and explicitly aware of this stipulation on the "second" day (the first repeated day) by the goddess Cyrollalee. It stands to reason that even knowing the bounds of our release, we needed 1-2 days to gather information and discover what it was that needed doing, where, and when. THAT BEING STATED, let the record also show that we were trapped in that hellish loop for an additional TEN DAYS longer than we should have been due to Sylthas's blatant disregard for the collective "good". While the rest of us were doing our damnedest to gather intel, save lives before they were lost, prevent injuries before they could happen, and otherwise correct the course of events before they could run afoul, fucking SYLTHAS:

• Deliberately started a forest fire. You know, right outside the village that was surrounded by forest. That second day, every single person in that village was burned alive, unable to escape, because of the conflagration that so rapidly consumed the fair while they were all in the big top tent for the main event.
• Murdered potential allies after they had made him aware that they were also aware of the time loop. (And would therefore remember every injury in detail... like, say, being burned alive. Which they were.) This was, by the way, not something we learned from Sylthas. He actively tried to conceal it from us, his teammates, but he failed.
• Willfully disregarded repeated criticisms and pleas from us, his teammates, for him to -- for the love gods -- try and embody, even temporarily, a persona that wasn't selfish and malicious. Or at the very least respected our requests. (Do you think I wanted to play hero and save the life of an idiot man who doesn't even know how to swallow, every day for twelve days, for free?! NO, but I did it because the team needed me to.)
• Failed to even temporarily embody a persona that wasn't malicious or selfish, not even for one day, so I had to take over the task we had previously been entrusting to him and which he had been failing for five days straight. (All he had to do was confirm if a man had cheated or not. Literally take two steps to the left and look down, and see that a machine had broken due to wildlife interference, not manual. EVEN I, WITH TWO FALSE EYES, WAS ABLE TO SEE THAT, AND I, WITH A SKULL FOR A FACE, WAS ABLE TO CALM THE CROWD. WHY COULDN'T HE?! I ASK YOU.)
• And even when we were about to be freed, when we were making our final stand against the twisted "ghosts" of the smallfolk who had burned to death that second day (and some allies of Uldren/Urdlen/whatever), I watched (while myself surrounded by 3 enemies) as Sylthas magicked himself out of harm's way and left Jax to be surrounded by enemies.

I feel no guilt nor personal failing for not having managed to apprehend Elsie amidst all that chaos. In summation and to be very clear, I hold the entirety of our failure of our contract up to the fault of Sylthas being such an enormous impediment to our success. Truly, we are only here today, back at the Syndicate, experiencing the 15th and et cetera, no longer trapped, in spite of Sylthas's worst efforts.

End of fucking report.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

^{((OOC, I just want to clarify again - as I did in game - that I, Zee, have nothing against Cratom the person. But unfortunately Gyaba, in-character, will carry this beef against Sylthas for the rest of their days.))}

I'm actually not clear on the context for this one. We got a letter from a scholar, I guess, who had two little leads on two hidden caches near-ish-by that they wanted us to find. Reasoning unknown - perhaps historical or cultural value...? Scholar shit. I don't know.

We found both. One was a giant shrine to Annam that had been desecrated by Dragon Cultists semi-recently. We were attacked by some steam and ice creatures and upon killing them the shrine rewarded us with four gold plates, which I helpfully carried on behalf of the party. Except that no one seemed to want them after, which I thought was weird, so they're just in my hoard now. Whatever. Anyway the other one was an I-don't-even-know-what in the side of a mountain face. Very icy. Very rats. Very haunted giant diamond that exploded into a diamond-dust-ghost that tried to get us to turn on each other, but we didn't, so HA.

The scholar who wrote us the letter to hire us did not pay us, but nor did they agree to beforehand, I guess. But we found the caches for them and in return for no payment promised, we took what wasn't nailed down, and I think that's fair.

End of report.

We were hired by the Waterdeep Society of Bowyers and Fletchers, who were distraught at having lost contact with their goose-feather supplier, the Seelie Goose Farm. So we went to follow up. We encountered an intelligible talking goose calling themself "Geezus" just outside the farm. Geezus was being attacked by an unintelligible talking goose. I believe it was Kervae who assessed the aggressor goose to be some kind of were-creature or otherwise under a transformative effect. (As in: a were-goose.) We subdued the aggressor goose, and attempts to interrogate Geezus if he was the source or cause behind the transformation (that had so enraged the other goose) were met with incomplete denials and confused argumentation. Abruptly, we were all turned into geese. Yes. I wrote what I meant.

Geezus explained it was a mis-cast spell of his which was affecting all of Seelie Goose Farm which we could break if we restored the former owner to ownership. Apparently, the new owner - Liam - had bamboozled the former owner - Reanne(?) - and then locked her away so that his deception could not come to light. My waterfowl-turned compatriots descended upon the bunkhouse proper while I investigated a trapdoor we'd discovered in an outbuilding closet. I'm not sure what happened, but Reanne (also goose-cursed as we were) was below, and I retrieved her and brought her back aboveground. I believe Liam was properly subdued. Someone found the deed to the farm and once returned to Reanne, we all returned to our proper upright and unfeathered forms. Reanne then agreed to continue the existing contract with the Waterdeep Bowyers and Fletchers.

Geezus was sufficiently contrite for the miscast spell that caused all the complication. Though I still think we should have reported him to the Waterdeep authorities for such irresponsible magicking, but what do I know.

We were paid as agreed.

The contractee was a one Martancriff, I assume the leader of the new Cheesemonger's society of Waterdeep. There were apparently some concerns about two potential competitors in the then-upcoming Cheese competition the new guild was hosting in Waterdeep. (The concern being, of course, the loss of status and income of/for the guild should the competition provide a platform for criminal activity or harm to attendees.) We were pointed to two men, a human with a D-name and a halfling with an absolute statement of head- and facial-hairstyle. Calkin, I think his name was.

Anyway, we were able to identify Calkin's "cheese" as Lurien spring cheese -- basically a highly addictive Halfling drug in cheese form -- which he had deliberately modified to be a drug palatable to and psychoactive in all humanoids (not just Halflings). We confronted him, he showed no remorse and in fact attempted to flee. Which attempt we successfully stopped. We handed Calkin and his accomplices over to Waterdeep authorities. As for the human with the D-name that I can't remember: He was a standup gentleman, actually, who once we informed him of the potential issues in his cheesemaking process, he willingly withdrew from the competition and vowed to reform. No further action was necessary.

Upon returning to the Cheesemonger's Guild's cheese competition the next day to report our findings, the final judging was interrupted by a terrorist attempt by a warped so-called "cheese elemental" going by the presumably self-ascribed moniker of "the Brieholder". The elemental attacked the crowd - which fled safely - and my compatriots and I successfully subdued the beast.

Martancriff and the Cheesemonger's Guild were adequately grateful and upheld their end of the contract. (That is, providing the agreed-upon payment for our blood loss and time spent.)