Perched at the edge of civilized lands, the small town of Falcon’s Hollow has always had to rely on itself to solve its problems. Meanwhile, the uncaring lumber barons squeeze the com¬mon folk for every last copper, deaf to their pleas. Now the hacking coughs of the sick are heard throughout town. The plague has come to Falcon’s Hollow and the town’s leaders can’t be bothered to stop it.
It began to be noticed about a week ago; numerous residents of Falcon’s Hollow have fallen ill, each suffering from the same hacking affliction. Local remedies have so far proved as useless as prayers at the Church of Iomedae in ridding the afflicted of their cough, which soon turns bloody. Somewhere along the way, people have begun calling the affliction ‘Blackscour Taint’, or simply ‘the taint’.
Although some of the fitter and healthier residents who have contracted the taint have managed to recover, many, particularly the very old and very young, appear to face mortal consequences. Slowly deteriorating, most of the afflicted may be able to hang on for several more days or even weeks, but already the weakest have succumbed, with their number growing daily.
Initially the source of the taint and its means of spreading was unknown. The town’s few wealthy citizens have remained ensconced up on the Perch, the steep-sided hill that anchors the town’s north east corner, with the gates shut for the last week and have been spared the malady. The taint does not appear to have spread to any of the Lumber Consortium’s camps or cutyards at the edges of Darkmoon Wood, and thus most of the Hollow’s main labour force – the lumberjacks and Consortium guards – have also been spared. Most of those afflicted are poorer folk living on the western side of Falcon’s Hollow.
A few days ago, Sheriff Baleson was seen inspecting a well near the west gate in the company of Laurel, the town’s main herbalist. Soon enough the well had been covered over, with a deputy set to guard it – since then, new cases of Blackscour Taint, as it began to be called at around this point, began to slow and have perhaps even stopped. That is cold comfort to those who have already fallen sick.
In most towns such a calamity would be met by action from the churches or the government. Unfortunately, Falcon’s Hollow has few enough churches; Lady Cirthana of Iomedae has opened the doors of her church to all in need, but once it became clear that her magic was insufficient to cure the disease, few of the typically irreligious Hollowers have taken up her offer of sanctuary. The town’s Lumber Consortium appointed administrator, Gavel Thuldrin Kreed has done exactly nothing about the taint, given that it appears to have spared most useful members of his workforce. Some of the sick have made a pilgrimage south to Olfden, hoping to seek help at the temple of Sarenrae there, but while the larger city may only be 60 miles away as the crow flies, it is a longer journey as the road winds around the mudpots and rocky outcrops of the Darkmoon Plain, and a journey that most of the sick would not be able to afford – or perhaps survive.
Instead, most of the sick have turned to Laurel, the proprietor of ‘Roots and Remedies’ and the town’s herbalist. So far, none of Laurel’s remedies appear to have done much more than ease the pain associated with the Blackscour Taint cough – few, if any of the sick have actually recovered after visiting her. But in the last day or so a rumour has sprung up that Laurel has or is working on a cure for the affliction, and now a long line of the hacking ill and their worried relatives stretches from the door of her small shop.
Reekis:
Now it seems like you’ve got the damn thing. It’s not too bad as yet, but you can’t stop coughing for more than a few minutes at a time, and the pain in your chest definitely feels worse than it did yesterday. You haven’t heard of anyone in their prime dying of this thing … but then you haven’t heard of too many people getting better either.
You heard down at the Sitting Duck last night that the girl who runs Roots and Remedies – the herbalist – might have some sort of cure. So you’ve gone down there this morning to find out the truth of the tavern talk. Arriving near the shop, you see a line of people already snaking out the door. You also notice your recent drinking buddy - if that's the right word to use - Eljoy Skinner, stumping towards you from across the road.
Anor:
But things are worse than normal in Falcon’s Hollow – there is a sickness in town, people are calling it the Blackscour Taint, and already it has claimed a few lives. Several members of your family seem to have contracted it, and although most of them shun you, you are not sure you wish them to die.
People are saying that Laurel has been making poultices and spiced teas that seem to help; you decide you will pay the herbalist a call to see if you can lend your own expertise, or see whether she may need any of the forest herbs or roots that you have back at your shack.
Eljoy:
The tall half elf sighs and closes his gold flecked eyes for a moment, before opening them and giving you a piercing look. “Anyway, I’m going to do you one more favour; you know how people have been getting sick of late, the Blackscour Taint? Well … I have it on authority that the herbalist Laurel – she runs Roots and Remedies just down the road – has an inkling of how to cure it, but for one reason or another she hasn’t as yet. I don’t know why – maybe with half the town at her door looking for help she fears a riot if she has enough medicine to cure some but not all; maybe she doesn’t have the right ingredients to cook up her medicine; or maybe she fears that whoever befouled that well, if it was done on purpose, might not be happy with her fixing people.”
“Whatever it is, I want you to visit her shop tomorrow morning, find out what the problem is – no I don’t want you to threaten or intimidate the woman, just talk to her – and offer your help; whether she needs a bodyguard, someone to stir a cauldron for her, or someone to ride out to Olfden to pick up ingredients. If you can help with this Skinner, you have my word some coin will come your way – and perhaps some more work too. Oh, and I’m sending another fellow over there too – hard to say how much or little help Laurel will need at this point – so play nicely.”
Baleson has changed some since your days in the army (or maybe you have), but you’d still rather have him as a friend than an enemy – so this morning you head out to Roots and Remedies to speak to Laurel. There’s a line when you get there, but you spot a familiar face – Reekis Gool, the fellow you’ve been drinking with at the Duck for most of the past week. No wonder you didn’t see him last night – by that cough you’d say he has the taint too … good thing for you it’s not contagious …
Adalwin:
“Whatever it is, I want you to visit her shop tomorrow morning, find out what the problem is – no I don’t need you to threaten or intimidate the woman, just talk to her – and offer your help; whether she needs a bodyguard, someone to stir a cauldron for her, or someone to ride out to Olfden to pick up ingredients, see what you can do. If you can help with this I can send some coin come your way – and perhaps some more work too. Oh, and I’m sending another fellow over there too – hard to say how much or little help Laurel will need at this point – he’s a hard sort, but good with an axe and knows his way around the wilds. He might be a useful fellow for you to know if you ever get that ruin hunting expedition going.”
So, with nothing better to do the next morning, you and Jasper head over to Roots and Remedies to join the line of people waiting to see Laurel the herbalist.
Jasper:
“Whatever it is, I want you to visit her shop tomorrow morning, find out what the problem is – no I don’t need you to threaten or intimidate the woman, just talk to her – and offer your help; whether she needs a bodyguard, someone to stir a cauldron for her, or someone to ride out to Olfden to pick up ingredients, see what you can do. If you can help with this, I can send some coin come your way – and perhaps some more work too. Oh, and I’m sending another fellow over there too – hard to say how much or little help Laurel will need at this point – he’s a hard sort, but good with an axe and knows his way around the wilds. He might be a useful fellow for you to know if you ever get that ruin hunting expedition going.”
So, with nothing better to do the next morning, you and Adalwin head over to Roots and Remedies to join the line of people waiting to see Laurel the herbalist.
Oliver:
Now, people are getting sick with a fungal infection that Laurel is calling Blackscour Taint. While what passes for the government of this place – the Lumber Consortium – seems to have turned its backs on the sick, Baleson has been trying to find the source of the infection and Laurel has been working on teas and poultices to try to ease the suffering of the sick – you’ve tried to help as you can. The sheriff did find out how people were getting sick, but unfortunately it came a couple of days too late for you – you had already drunk several times from the well that was found to have been tainted by the Blackscour fungus and have come down with the illness yourself.
Now people are saying that Laurel actually knows how to cure this thing – which is odd, as she hasn’t said anything to you. Today, you’ve joined the line of sick people waiting at her shop hoping to talk to her, find out if there is indeed a way to cure this, and if so, how you can help – for your own sake as much as anyone elses.
"Hey, El - bleh! hack! gah! - Hey, Elj - huhg! weh! argh! - Hey, buddy! Ah, f@@& this cough." Reekis spits, trying not to notice the blood in his sputum. Reekis is short and skinny, with narrow shoulders, stick-like arms and legs, and over-large hands. His chin is weak, his ears stick out, and even though he is a young man, his hair is beginning to recede from his forehead. He peers up at his only friend in this town - and even then he's n ot too sure if he likes Eljoy all that much. "Whatchadoin?"
Anor stands silently in line, looking rather bored, and frustrated at how long this is taking.
She's of medium height, with shoulder length brown hair, which is tied back. She's dressed for the woods and has an earthy smell that you don't tend to get on people living in town. A large backpack sits at her feet while she waits.
Among those waiting outside the little shop is an ugly little fellow, small even by halfling standards, looking around and taking everything in like a tourist in Absalom. He seems to be remaining near a human man as the line shifts forward.
Some of the others in the line level curious stares his way, but he doesn't seem to mind - or just doesn't notice. When he does meet someone's eye, he smiles and nods or makes a little wave. Under a wavy mop of black hair, his skin is a combination of a greenish tint and coppery iridescence, giving it an effect not unlike oxidized copper.
His tiny hands have oddly heavy knuckles, obvious as he waves. His face is a mix of orc and halfling, with pronounced brows and cheekbones warring with a diminutive nose, dimples, and brilliant green eyes. His small talk with the human male reveals a minor speech impediment, possibly due to tiny tusks that are apparent when he opens his mouth.
He wears the simplest of peasant attire, loose enough to partially reveal a pair of tattoos, no shoes, and a tiny backpack that hangs from his shoulders.
One cannot be blamed if they wonder idly where the man found his pet monster and how much it cost him.
Adalwin stands just under 6” tall, with a head of shaggy brown hair. He is clearly young, with just a fuzz of light hair covering his chin, though is already well muscled. His clothes are plain, though in good condition, and do little to conceal the fact that Adalwin is armoured as well as armed, a bastard sword his most obvious weapon.
He looks uncomfortable, a cloth clenched in his hand hovering halfway between his face and waist, as if caught between the fear of catching the taint and the fear of offending anyone by seeming to suggest they may give it to him. He turns to the strange looking Halfling standing next to him every now and then to trade a comment.
“Do you think we can skip the line since we are on official business for the Sheriff?” He asks his companion, eyeing the man who has just spat up a gob of bloody phlegm warily.
Creeping ivy and full window boxes cover the façade of the rugged-looking, two-story shop ahead of you. The sign that bears the words “Roots and Remedies” is faded and worn.
A line of twenty-some somber townsfolk — some with pale, wheezing children, others seeming to be precipitously near tears — stretches ahead of where you wait. The broad-shouldered local youth who stands near the door opens it to let a group of townsfolk out of the shop, then ushers in about half of the people waiting ahead of you. The line shuffles forward.
Oliver is of average height and somewhat lightweight for a half-elf, with scruffy hair and soft eyes both of a nondescript brown. He is dressed in simple and utilitarian clothing, neither bright nor drab. He leans heavily to his left, due to the obviously stunted leg on that side, putting a majority of his weight on the spear that looks to be more of a metal-headed walking stick than a weapon. Despite the wet cough that racks him periodically, his face belies a casual cheer. He seems in oddly high spirits for someone likely to suffer the devastating effects of the Blackscour Taint.
Directed at Adalwin, whom he knew, but open to anyone nearby him in line, he asked "Isn't this excit...*cough cough*... exciting? To think she may have discovered something new, or even...*cough* come up with a cure completely. It must be great knowing you had such a powerful effect on a whole community that needed your help." He takes a deep breath, a futile attempt to stymie a coughing fit that follows shortly, before adding, "I can't wait to discuss how she found and reached her results. Did you know, that a large majority of major medicinal discoveries originate through accidental mixing of components?"
The little fellow pipes up, "You sound like a doctor!" He points at himself with a grin, "Mixing things can give you some strange results, though."
A number of townsfolk walk along the sawdust strewn dirt street that Roots and Remedies fronts, heading to and from the Low Market at the southern end of the street. A large stone building, known as the Hollow Tribunal sits at the end of the street where it meets the market square.
Several of you notice a bearded man with a copper badge pinned to his leather jerkin, and a hunting horn and several small weapons at his belt, leaning against a wall of the tribunal building, looking up the street at the line outside Roots and Remedies. He looks like one of Sheriff Baleson’s deputies, presumably looking out for any trouble in the crowd.
The line shuffles forward again, as several more townsfolk leave and enter the shop.
"Morning Oliver, did the Sheriff send you down here as well? He seems to think the herbalist may need some help gathering ingredients for the cure. I still need to talk to about my quest, it's of vital importance..." Adalwin trails off, glancing around him at the line of sick townsfolk, and registering Olivers own coughing. "Though maybe not as pressing as helping to find a cure for this taint" he concedes, checks turning red.
Glancing at the deputy, Adalwin continues in a quieter tone, which still manages to carry across most of the line. "Looks like they might be expecting some trouble, I wonder if she has enough of the cure to help everyone?"
As he speaks he scans the townsfolk leaving the store, trying to gauge their mood
Several of the people leaving the herbalist's shop clutch small packages or flasks, but you don't notice anyone who looks particularly happy.
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A big man walks up the line toward the herbalist's. He's wearing the rough clothes, tall heavy leather boots, and leather cloak common to the consortium lumberjacks. The axe on his shoulder confirms this impression, yet steals it away in the next instant because its broad blade is double sided and primarily designed to fell men as well as timber. The heavy steel scaled shirt and round wooden shield on his back also imply that cutting trees is not his only career.
The man holds up one hand to shade his eyes from the sun as he stalks along. His feet seem to fall a little left or right of where he intended to place them for he constantly makes small corrections to his course.
Beneath the shading hand, his balding brow, dark lank hair, and narrow chin frame a field of greyish complexion. Within the field two eyes form wells; a long triangular nose, a mountain; a thin-lipped sneering frown, a scar in the landscape.
As he walks along the queue, the man draws looks and muttered comments from those wondered if he intends to cut the line. Finally one low-pitched comment, or look, or imagined slight, or the accumulation of all, can not be ignored. The big man wheels on a laborer waiting with two small girls.
"The hell I can't go to the front of the line! Who're you to say where I can or can't go. You're twice lucky today. First 'cause I wouldn't stomp a man in front of his children. Second 'cause I'm here on Sheriff Baleson's business to keep order in the line, or whatever else Lauren needs. So just shut the f#@~ up and stay in line. 'cause I would stomp you if it's my job. Girls or no."
He rocks backward and looks all up and down the line. ""
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"Hey, El - bleh! hack! gah! - Hey, Elj - huhg! weh! argh! - Hey, buddy! Ah, f!** this cough." Reekis spits, trying not to notice the blood in his sputum. Reekis is short and skinny, with narrow shoulders, stick-like arms and legs, and over-large hands. His chin is weak, his ears stick out, and even though he is a young man, his hair is beginning to recede from his forehead. He peers up at his only friend in this town - and even then he's n ot too sure if he likes Eljoy all that much. "Whatchadoin?"
"Reekis! Desna's t!@&, man. You didn't look this bad last night." Eljoys turns his head and spits clear white and healthy. "Sheriff asked me to help out down here. Kind of put the arm on me. Says I owe him -- and to be fair I do. But it rankles still. "
Eljoy's left hand remains draped over the handle of the axe on his shoulder. His right hand firmly clutches his belt.
"I've got to get to work. I'm supposed to meet one of Del's men down here." He looks around. "Looks like the bastard's late."
In a low voice to Adalwin, "Him?"
To the angry axe wielder, "Um, is it him?" The ugly little halfling points down the street, "He's been there for a bit. Maybe he's waiting for you."
As the ruckus starts, a small hawk takes flight from somewhere around Anor. Anor keeps to herself though, quietly waiting for the line to move again.
The line moves forward again, and soon enough your group is at the door. “You all t’gether?” mumbles the boy at the door. Not waiting for an answer, and carefully avoiding catching Eljoy’s eye, he pushes open the door and ushers you within.
The smell of burnt earth and spicy incense chokes the air of the cramped, mud-tracked shop. Bunches of dried herbs hang from the ceiling, along with dangling pots, presses, alchemical apparatuses, and glassware of more arcane purposes. Pouches of rare plants, jars of colored glass, and all manner of dried, preserved, and jellied animal parts fill high shelves and tables doing double duty as displays and workspaces. In the shop’s rear, a rail-thin woman with severe-looking spectacles and hair pulled back tightly busies herself between an overpacked rack of herbs, a table covered in stray powders and measuring equipment, and a pot loudly bubbling over with thick grey froth. Over the din of her work and without looking up, the woman impatiently shouts, “Blackscour Taint? I’ve got some things that’ll help with the pain and the cough, but I’ve no cure, despite what you might’ve heard.”
Jasper, wide-eyed, takes in the tumble of herbs, ingredients, and other items.
As she steps into the shop, Anor's falcon swoops in through he door and takes a perch on one of the shelves.
"Laurel, it's Anor, I'm in for supplies. Is there anything I can do to help?" Anor speaks, quietly, but firmly, as if Laurel is an old friend.
Jasper, wide-eyed, takes in the tumble of herbs, ingredients, and other items.
[dice=Perception, just looking around]1d20 + 8
There is truly a lot to be seen here; all sorts of herbs, leaves, roots, berries, animal parts, powders, liquids, pots, utensils, bottles, jars and flasks. Several books and scrolls rest on a shelf, and another large book, its pages yellowed with age and cover worn with use lies open on the table where the herbalist works.
Two windows, their sills crammed with jars and bottles, face the street. Apart from the door you entered by, there is another closed door at the rear of this room.
There is no one else evident in the room apart from the harried looking Laurel. The woman is tall and thin, the fine lines around the eyes behind her spectacles and the furrows in her brow marking her as only a few brief years short of middle years. She wears a stained white apron over a long green dress, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
As she steps into the shop, Anor's falcon swoops in through he door and takes a perch on one of the shelves.
[dice=Perception]1d20+6
"Laurel, it's Anor, I'm in for supplies. Is there anything I can do to help?" Anor speaks, quietly, but firmly, as if Laurel is an old friend.
“Anor!” Laurel looks up in surprise and takes in the disparate group crowding the front of her shop for the first time. She nods a quick greeting to Oliver, then looks down quickly when she hears him cough, a brief look of distress passing across her face.
“I’m a little busy for trading supplies today as you can see,” the herbalist continues, her voice just shy of snappish. “I must have had half the town at my door these past few days, for all I am able to help them …” She trails off sadly, then quirks an eyebrow and looks back at Anor. “Say, you aren’t familiar with a root called ‘rat’s tail’ by any chance?”
In a low voice to Adalwin, "Him?"
Adalwin shrugs, looking somewhat dismayed that this crass individual may be who the Sheriff suggested could help him.
Heading into the shop, Adalwin steps carefully, trying not to knock or bump any of the displayed stock. He looks around the shop with polite interest before focusing on Laurel.
"Good morning ma'am, I am Adalwin McFaine, Sheriff Baleson asked me and my friend Jasper here to come down and assist you in the manufacturing of your cure. Where would you like us to start..." Adalwin pauses, racking his brain for any shred of herbal knowledge "Maybe we could ... gather some ingredients? Or mix some components randomly!" He adds, nodding to Oliver for his insight into medical breakthroughs. He picks up the nearest bunch of herbs, looking around the room for something to mix with it.
“Put that down!” Laurel tells Adalwin sharply. “Do you have the faintest idea what you’re holding? No, I thought not. Sheriff Baleson sent you, you say? Well I don’t know what he’s playing at – there is no cure I’m afraid. I have been brewing a tea that deadens the pain somewhat, and a decongestant that will ease the cough. I could do with some help preparing them – from someone who knows what they’re doing! – but they won’t rid people of the Blackscour Taint, merely ease the symptoms. People will either get better or they won’t … and I’m afraid most won’t.”
"You sound like a doctor!" He points at himself with a grin, "Mixing things can give you some strange results, though."
Oliver kindly balks at the suggestion, "A doctor? Oh, by the gods, no. They are well-studied and educated people. I especially wouldn't tinker with mixing various reagents, I would leave that to those pursuing an alchemical profession. I am merely interested to learn about the great expanse of Golarion, and help those along the way that may need it." The cough the periodically finds its way into his speaking doing nothing to dampen his spirits.
"Morning Oliver, did the Sheriff send you down here as well? He seems to think the herbalist may need some help gathering ingredients for the cure. I still need to talk to about my quest, it's of vital importance..." Adalwin trails off, glancing around him at the line of sick townsfolk, and registering Olivers own coughing. "Though maybe not as pressing as helping to find a cure for this taint" he concedes, checks turning red.
Glancing at the deputy, Adalwin continues in a quieter tone, which still manages to carry across most of the line. "Looks like they might be expecting some trouble, I wonder if she has enough of the cure to help everyone?"
"Adalwin. No, I was not sent by the sheriff, though I'm pleased to know he is concerned about the uproar such a discovery could warrant. Despite the deputy's stern countenance, I'm sure he is more focused on keeping the peace. Did you know, many momentous events such as these have been the originator of large bouts of chaos in more expansive communities?"
Oliver goes quiet as the loud man approaches and starts leveling threats, though no fear is present, as much as he shrugs to Adalwin in a 'some people' sort of way.
When they finally get into the shop, he is almost dancing with excitement, and returns a smile, nod, and friendly wave back to Laurel, despite her looking away before he can get to the wave. He tries to wave Adalwin off from his ingredient mixing, but a coughing fit overtakes him, and he is beaten to it by Laurel's reprimand.
When he hears that she didn't discover a cure, his shoulders slump, but not in disappointment as much as the sympathy on his face for her, with a mumbled, "Oh, that's too bad, it would have been such a treat for you to have found one." Louder he adds, "Laurel, I would be happy to help you in whatever way I can."
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In a low voice to Adalwin, "Him?"
To the angry axe wielder, "Um, is it him?" The ugly little halfling points down the street, "He's been there for a bit. Maybe he's waiting for you."
The big axe wielder spins on his heel to face the Halfling. He shifts back a half step in the process. He frowns, then looks down the street.
"You're probably right, " he rasps and his frown deepens as he glares at the guardsman.
“You all t’gether?” Not waiting for an answer, and carefully avoiding catching Eljoy’s eye, he pushes open the door and ushers you within.
Eljoy looks into the shop, back at the deputy, down at the boy. He shrugs, widens his arms and shuffles into the shop, herding the front of the line before him.
***
The edge of his shield nicks the doorframe as the woodcutter-ersatz deputy enters. He ducks his head and seems to shrink while he studies the floor.
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"Good morning ma'am, I am Adalwin McFaine, Sheriff Baleson asked me and my friend Jasper here to come down and assist you in the manufacturing of your cure. Where would you like us to start..." Adalwin pauses, racking his brain for any shred of herbal knowledge "Maybe we could ... gather some ingredients? Or mix some components randomly!" He adds, nodding to Oliver for his insight into medical breakthroughs. He picks up the nearest bunch of herbs, looking around the room for something to mix with it.
The woodcutter's head snaps up from his study of the floor. He clears his throat in kind of a low phlegmy roar, and looks for a place to spit. He swallows awkwardly and resumes his study of the floor.
“Say, you aren’t familiar with a root called ‘rat’s tail’ by any chance?”
Jasper holds his tongue among all the conversation, intuiting that Laurel doesn't have this root she asked the other woman about. Looking around the shop, he can't imagine that there's anything she doesn't have within those walls.
"Adalwin. No, I was not sent by the sheriff, though I'm pleased to know he is concerned about the uproar such a discovery could warrant. Despite the deputy's stern countenance, I'm sure he is more focused on keeping the peace. Did you know, many momentous events such as these have been the originator of large bouts of chaos in more expansive communities?"
"Well hopefully we can head off any chaos before it starts." Adalwin responds, feeling like a boy again with his parents trying to teach him things.
“Put that down!” Laurel tells Adalwin sharply. “Do you have the faintest idea what you’re holding? No, I thought not. Sheriff Baleson sent you, you say? Well I don’t know what he’s playing at – there is no cure I’m afraid. I have been brewing a tea that deadens the pain somewhat, and a decongestant that will ease the cough. I could do with some help preparing them – from someone who knows what they’re doing! – but they won’t rid people of the Blackscour Taint, merely ease the symptoms. People will either get better or they won’t … and I’m afraid most won’t.”
Adalwins checks redden, and he meekly puts the herbs back on the cramped shelf. "There must be something we can do," he says mournfully. The young man can't help his eyes flicking to those in the store obviously afflicted with the Taint.
“Say, you aren’t familiar with a root called ‘rat’s tail’ by any chance?”
[dice=Knowledge nature]1d20+8
[dice=Survival]1d20+3
Unfortunately you’ve not heard of a root called rat’s tail, and not knowing it you wouldn’t know where to find it.
"I haven't heard of that name, could you describe it? or maybe one of the others here may know of it?" She says the last pointedly looking at the others.
Laurel puts down the mortar and pestle she has been holding, looks you all over and sighs. “Well, as you are all so eager to help … perhaps there is something you can do. I don’t know a cure for this – nothing I have tried has worked in more than a superficial way. Much of the herb lore I know was passed on to me by my grandmother; this book was hers,” she pats the large, worn book that rests on her workbench. “Now most of the recipes and concoctions in my granny’s book I’m very familiar with, but there are some I’ve never tried – most of those she got from Ulizmila, the old witch of the woods. There’s one in there that claims to be a powerful anti-fungal medicine – as Blackscour is a fungus, it’s possible this could help against it … but it’s a weird concoction that sounds more like hoodoo than real medicine to me. I’ve been busy enough trying to help people that I haven’t had the luxury to try something like that – especially given that I’ve never even heard of some of the ingredients, let alone have them. But I suppose at this point I’d be willing to give it a try, if you’re able to track down the odd ingredients for me.”
"Anything we can do to help Laurel. Could I have a look at the potion, and the ingredients it describes? It may jog a memory."
Oliver offers cheerfully, "The name sounds familiar. I would love to help find the ingredients."
Adalwin nods; "You can count on me." Turning to Jasper he adds, "Who knows, we might come across clues as to the whereabouts of the Azlanti ruins. More likely we will find something out there than staying in the town."
Jasper nods agreeably. "I'm comfortable in the woods. We had to forage from time to time. But I don't know what anything is called," he says apologetically.
Laurel looks at you all again, then picks up the large book on her table and turns to a bookmarked page. She places the book back on the table and turns it so that the words are facing away from her, towards the group. You see a page written in a large, spidery hand, supplemented by scribbled notes and fading diagrams.
“Here is the recipe,” Laurel says, tapping the page with her finger. “You can see the list of ingredients up here – a number of different roots, herbs and concentrations, most of which I have here or can get easily enough, but there are three I don’t know. See here, rat’s tail, the one I asked you about Anor – don’t feel bad, I’ve never heard of it either, outside of Granny’s book. She describes it as a specially pickled root that resembles its namesake … she writes elsewhere that she got some from Ulizmila. Without knowing what it is or where else to find it, that might be our best bet too – providing that the old witch is still alive, you can find her, and the price she asks is not too great. She’s a mean, crafty sort, or so they say. My grandmother traded her own tongue to the witch for a few pages of what she knew. That was years and years ago, and I don’t know a soul who got any nicer as they got older.”
Laurel sighs, shakes her head, then looks back at the list. “Here. Elderwood Moss, that’s another I’ve not heard of, but Granny’s notes say it only grows on the oldest tree in a forest. Sounds like hokum to me – how does moss know the tree it’s growing on is the oldest, second oldest or otherwise? Anyway … there must be an oldest tree in Darkmoon Wood I suppose, but I’m damned if I know which one it is.”
“The last thing I don’t have is this – Ironbloom mushrooms. At least I’ve heard of those, though I don’t have any. They’re stunty little things, only grow in dark places thick with metal. A favourite amongst dwarves or so I hear, the mushrooms are said to grow around their forges. Well, there’s few enough dwarves left in these parts, but I’ve heard of dwarven ruins up north, around Droskar’s Crag. If there’s any Ironbloom growing anywhere nearby, that might be your best bet.”