GM WhtKnt's Into the Borderlands, Table 1 (Inactive)

Game Master WhtKnt

You have traveled for many days, leaving the Realm and entering into the wilder area of the Borderlands. Farms and towns have become less frequent and travelers few. The road has climbed higher as you enter the forested and mountainous country.

You now move up a narrow, rocky track. A sheer wall of natural stone is on your left, the path falling away to a steep cliff on the right. There is a small widening ahead, where the main gate to the KEEP is. The blue-clad men-at-arms who guard the entrance shout at you to give your names and state your business. All along the wall you see curious faces peering down at you - eager to welcome new champions of Law, but ready with crossbow and halberd to give another sort of welcome to enemies.

NOTE: This game will use Roll20 for maps. Would everyone please sign in at https://app.roll20.net/join/3223406/ZTy93g and then tell me your Roll20 identity so that I can set everything up. If this really irks anyone to the point of non-participation, I will use Google drive, but I prefer Roll20.

Returning the call is a lithe half-orc with dark skin and silver hair, raising an arm and with an aura of command he shouts "It is I, Zdravko the Skylord! We seek to expand the safety of the Keep's walls by turning back both brigand and tribe alike through sword and sorcery. Those hearts unfortunate enough to have already been ravished by these wilds we seek to comfort with song and comradery. Won't you open the gate and begin to turn the tide of these lands?"

Persuasion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Huffing and puffing a gnome bending over at the waist glancing up.
"My name is Ya'bo, we require entrance. I have a correspondence for of a person that goes by the name of Zandar. Would you be so kind in opening up."

The calls from the men-at-arms are met by a plainly dressed half-elf of average build.

"My name is Theo Sylvanblood. A humble clergyman.", he says."My only business is the will of Mystra. Enlightenment for pure-hearted truth-seekers and succor for the downtrodden and infirm."

Theo holds his sigil aloft and recites a short blessing; evidence of his of his station.

Morgan looks up to the Guards with relief in his eyes, knowing that his long travel was near it's end. At least long enough to rest. He displays his holy symbol of the Triad and answers the call from the men-at-arms.

"Morgan McWright, Champion of Justice, here to further the cause of Truth and Law in these borderlands." He answers proudly.

"I am Isandril of the noble House Velahrn."

The voice belongs to an elf whose features hint at his mixed sun elven and moon elven heritage. Handsome and fair of skin, he has pale silvery-gold hair and almond-shaped eyes of a vibrant violet color with what can best be described as golden flecks speckled through them. Dressed plainly enough, his clothes are nevertheless well made and of obvious elvish design, though his hooded cloak is held in place by a clasp of dwarven craftsmanship. A fine-looking rapier rests in its scabbard by his left hip, while the more keen-eyed of the guards can also see a sheathed curved dagger and a pouch like those made to hold spell components fastened to the right side of his belt.

"Friends tend to simply call me Sand though," he adds with a smile.

A plainly dressed and empty-handed halfling takes a small bit of a step forward, and announces himself in kind.

"And I'm either an ancient fire-breathing great-wyrm, or a simple halfling wanderer, looking do some good," the last member of the group offers.
"And either way, the name's Ore." He adds a flourishing little bow that's visible to the guards on the wall, and a wink that's not.

"Oy, Charl," the guard on the right calls over to the guard on the left. "What do you make of this lot?"

"Adventurers," Charl calls back. "Mostly likely looking for trouble."

"Well, they'll find none of that here, lest they bring it with them." He turns and calls down, "You lot got that? We'll brook no trouble from the likes of you. Keep yourselves in check and you'll be welcome enough. Cause problems and you'll taste our justice!

"Ho, below! Lower the drawbridge! We've visitors!"

A moment later, the massive drawbridge is lowered into place and you are motioned forward toward a massive portcullis as it is raised. A rugged-looking man steps forward. He wears plate mail and carries a heavy shield, with a longsword at his side. Next to him is a scribe, dressed in red robes. They are flanked by men-at-arms.

"Our rules are pretty simple, even for the most thick-headed adventurer. Be civil, keep your weapons peace-bonded, no flashy displays of magic in public. If you start trouble and are fortunate enough to survive, you'll see the quality of our dungeons. Now, come forward and give your name again for the record."

As each of you passes forward, the corporal gruffly looks you over and ensures that your weapons are peace-bonded and the scribe takes your name and records it in his logbook.

"I suppose you'll be looking for the tavern. The Stretching Goat is on the other side of the marketplace, next to the traveler's inn. Go that way," the corporal points west, "Until you see the fountain. That's Market Square."

"Oh thank sir, yes I am very parched. You say no flashy magic you say, so something simple so I can clean up like this would be alright?"

Ya'Bo wiggles his fingers and says some words. Casts Prestidigitation on himself to get rid of the road grime.

Ya'Bo gives a big toothy smile to the guard and walks in.

Theo presents himself to the guards-men for customs inspection. The corporal hands Theo a few lengths of leather cord and bids him to secure his weapons with the standard peace-bond knot.

Theo does as he is asked. He slides the shaft of his mace through the grips of his shield and binds the lot to his pack. Theo then binds the string of his bow its frame and slides it through his pack's shoulder straps; allowing the weapon to rest against his back at a slight angle.

Theo decides not to be forthcoming about the small utility knife buried somewhere in his pack unless the guards ask to search its contents. A request that will instantly jog Theo's memory regarding the "forgotten" item.

"If they find it, it's no great loss.", Theo thinks to himself. "however, the practical uses of having it on-hand are an obvious boon." Theo, a pragmatist by design, doesn't share the guard's conviction that uninvited trouble can't find him beyond these walls.

Once the corporal is satisfied that all of Theo's weapons are secure, Theo gathers up his gear and makes his way toward the scribe. Theo gives his name again, for the record, before being allowed into the city proper.

Once inside the city, Theo heads to the nearest food-stand or street-side shop and buys some minor snack (1-3bp). While he waits for his order, Theo fishes his quill and paper from his bag. Taking the change (50[+7-9]cp, 5sp) from his purchase, Theo scans the immediate area for members of the city's underclass. Street urchins, prostitutes, beggars, and even swindlers.

As he makes his way towards the tavern, Theo approaches each of these lost or impoverished souls in turn. Two copper to the rattling cups of the destitute and infirm, or a silver to the fill the mouths of hungry babes. To the undesirables Theo offers the simple trade of information for coin; one copper for each of his queries or for information on any worthwhile locations in the city; temples, shops, underworld hotspots, etc (max 2sp).

Theo's primary questions:

"Does this city posses any sort library or academy?"
"Have there been any reports of magically induced ailments or deformities?"
"What is the most important thing a newcomer can know about this place?"
"Who really runs this city?"

Insight (detect deception): Primary questions
1d20 ⇒ 14
1d20 ⇒ 9
1d20 ⇒ 4
1d20 ⇒ 14
1d20 ⇒ 6

Morgan bonds his weapons as asked before approaching the gate, he nods and says his thanks to the guards as they pass.

He looks down to Ya'Bo. "It's best not to test them, that is if you do not wish to spend your night in a cell." He advises as their group walks toward the tavern.

Ya'bo gives a sigh,

"He just seemed so short-tempered, I thought a smile on his face would be most beneficial Morgan."

Taking a glance over his shoulder.

"Well at least we were admitted."

Currency can be however you desire; if you want to have a variety of coins, that's fine. If you prefer to have all the same coin, that's fine too.

The guards don't bother to search bags or packs. Theo finds that there are not many undesirables here. There are a few beggars and a number of children, but most of the children don't appear to be urchins. The people here seem to be, for the most part, fairly well-fed and in decent health.

The few that you find are happy to answer your questions, however. You find that the keep does not have a public library or other repositories of information. There have been no unusual reports of deformities or magical ailments.

The local ruler is a man named Macsen Wledig, known as the castellan.

Local laws are mostly common-sense sort of stuff; don't attack anyone without provocation, don't steal, don't cause trouble, etc.

You feel pretty confident that these answers are truthful.

Zdravko raises an eyebrow "Good lord...what an unfortunate name for a bar, eh? 'Stretching Goat'? Who will be the first 'Retching Goat' come sunup...? I daresay we test the potability of this establishment's imbibe-ables."

Theo diligently jots down notes before offering thanks and payment in kind to his informants. Most of his information comes from bright-eyed children that fly-off at light-speed towards the nearest sweets vendor. Each of them eager to spend their newly earned boon. Between information gathering and charity, Theo has parted ways with the about 2 silvers worth of copper pieces.

Theo's disappointment in finding no scholarly institutions is only quelled by the overall health and high-spirits he sees in the Keep's denizens. It's clear to Theo that he has not been lead here for the purpose of performing his Lady's ministry.

Finishing up the last of his notes, Theo jogs a few a yards to catch up with his group. As his compatriots come into earshot, Theo hears Zdravko pondering the quality of the tavern's spirits.

"I daresay we test the potability of this establishment's imbibe-ables.", the bard muses aloud.

"Please do.", Theo says. Announcing his return. "Mending curdled stomachs come morning may be the closest thing to divine grace I have to offer here."

"Ya'Bo. I hope for both our sakes that this stay doesn't prove extensive." Theo thumbs through his notes, an exaggerated look of concern on his face. "No public library or any type of formal academia. Not even any strange arcane happenings. I fear we would lose our wits by week's end."

"I enjoy a glass of wine, preferably elvish, now and then as much as the next fellow," Sand says, keeping up the idle conversation. "But I generally do not exaggerate, so I believe I am one less person whose stomach you need to worry about, Theo."

The elf sighs as they make their way to the tavern. "I do admit a slight disappointment as well though. No strange and exciting happenings, no tomes of knowledge or secrets. It feels as if our stay will be quite uneventful."

"Ah, don't sweat it fellows, I'm sure there's plenty of trouble floating around for you to wave your magics at," Ore says, laughing at the situation; it wasn't until he'd begun traveling with other adventurers that he'd seen people be disappointed about a nice calm hearth. "It is the Borderlands after all. Now, which way to the Market Square? I believe it's our duty, as good visitors and all that, to sample the local fare: Retching, Stretching, or otherwise."

He laughed a bit to himself as they went, generally quite pleased with the way things had worked out. Boring at first glance, he knew, often meant quite the opposite; he suspected their time here wouldn't be wasted.

The Stretching Goat is remarkably busy this time of day (just before nightfall). Inside are a dozen farmers and citizens, two men in chainmail wearing the livery of the Keep, and a grizzled, balding man with a grey-black beard in plate armor, also with the Keep's livery on his tabard. These are in addition to a serving wench, a young girl of maybe 12 years, also waiting on tables, and the barkeep.

The menu is posted on the wall behind the bar.

ALE 1 cp/mug
SMALL BEER 1sp/flagon
WINE 1 ep/glass
HONEY MEAD 1 gp/flagon
BARK TEA 1 sp/mug
BREAD 1 cp/slice
PUDDING 1 sp/bowl
VEGETABLE SOUP 1 sp/bowl
VENISON STEW 1 ep/bowl
ROAST FOWL 1 gp/plate
ROAST JOINT 2 gp/plate
HOT MEAT PIE 1 ep/pie
GOAT CHEESE 1 sp/wedge
FRUIT 1 sp/plate

The barkeep, a fat, jovial sort greets you with a smile and a wave.

"Ah HA!" Ore calls out, pleased beyond expectation at seeing the menu on the wall. "That'll do nicely." Sauntering over to a table, he hops up onto a chair and stands on the seat, resting his elbows on the table proper. "Now let's see how the Borderlands do on Pudding, eh team? Come on, have a seat!"

With a big grin, Ore locks eyes with one of the servers, and makes a circular motion with one finger, implying he's interested in getting things started.

"Something to eat sounds like a wonderful idea."

Ya'Bo finds a seat, placing is pack by his feet.

"I think I am more interested in the meat pie Ore. What type of meat do you think they use, or should we just not ask? Oh I am sure I have eaten worse. What type fruit do they grow in the Badlands? I think I will do a Hot Meat Pie, a wedge of cheese, a plate of fruit and some Bark Tea."

Ya'Bo reaches in to his pouch and fishes out one of his few remaining gold coins.

What I don't eat now I will take for later.

Zdravko watches the little girl work for a moment, charmed by her innocence as she performs beyond her years. When she gets the chance he calls her over "I say little angel, wouldn't you rather be out plucking flowers in the warm sunshine? What witch's geas imprisons youth here among the tired and thirsty?" he smiles.

The little girl simply shrugs and replies, "'Tis my father's tavern." She merrily returns to her work.

Morgan slowly pushes his way through the crowded tavern trying to keep his lumbering form from crashing into the patrons or furniture.

Once seated he orders a few things to sate his appetite. "I'll have to pass on the pudding for now but I'll have a plate of Bread and Fruit a bowl of Venison stew and a Flagon of Honey Mead, if you would please." The Tiefling says handing over his payment. 1 of each coin as it turns out.

"They seem to have this place well in order, a fine establishment especially when considering it's location." Morgan sates.

"Oh, let the girl be, Zdravko," the elven mage says with a chuckle, his eyes on the menu. "Hmm... I think some bread and a bowl of venison stew will do nicely, accompanied by a glass of wine. And maybe some fruit for later," he orders, finally deciding and handing over the appropriate coins.

A total of 1 gold piece, 1 silver piece and 1 copper piece, I think.

Theo rummages around his pouch, gathering up the remaining loose change from earlier.

"Barkeep!" he calls from the far end of the counter "Two fruit plates and bark tea if you please". (3 sp)"

Theo was mostly sated from his early snack, but he was sure the sugary bits would help bland travel rations go down smoothly. Plus, he enjoyed flavoring his water with pieces of citrus fruit.

While he waits for his order, Theo gives the other patrons of the bar a quick once-over. Mostly basic farm folk; save the young serving girl and a trio of heavily armored Keep soldiers. As he looks, Theo also listens, momentarily honing in on each conversation; searching for any interesting gossip and taking mental note of any name he can pair with a face.

Eavsdropping (perception): 1d20 ⇒ 9

Just like Theo had seen on his way in, everyone appears happy and healthy. Even the young Stretching heiress, with her youth "imprisoned among the tired and thirsty", shows a healthy pigment in her cheeks and overtly jolly demeanor as she brings Theo his drink and fruit.

So strange. What possible purpose could the Arcane Mother have for Theo here? A large settlement like the Keep is a rare stop as is, but one free of plague, famine, or the suppression of education? Theo is quite sure that, before today, he hadn't seen such in the better part of ten years.

"Hmm.", Theo thinks to himself. "Perhaps the lack of my Lady's guiding hand is a sign that this part of my journey will require a more...proactive approach."

"Another round for the men at arms!" (min 3cp, max 3gp), Theo calls "Compliments of an adventurer in awe of this lone bastion in such a wild land.", Theo raises his cup in salute. "I've no doubt the peace within these walls is thanks to sweat and blood shed beyond their sanctuary. Blessings upon those who shield the meek from evil."

Theo sips his drink as the serving girl brings the men their fresh drinks and clears away empty mugs.

"Well, blessings and a hardy drink. Am I right, friends?"

Ya'Bo raises his cup and nods to the guardsmen.

"Zdravko, perhaps you could entertain a song for these capable men-at-arms"

fishing out a piece of cheese to fed it to his pet mouse in is pocket.

"You gents need to try the meat pie, it's quite good. Isandril how was your venison stew?"

After finishing the meat pie, Ya'Bo wraps up his leftover cheese and fruit and puts them in a pocket in his pack.

"Quite good actually," Sand replies with a smile. "And I do believe it is actual venison too," he adds as his smile turns into a grin before taking a sip of wine.

"Aha, a fine idea. Perhaps I'll earn an ale..." he pulls out his ancient looking lyre, beautiful in its own way, like an antique. Made of a tan petrified wood with bright brass fittings, Zdravko once claimed it was taken from the desert by an airship captain. He strums a novelty song with a light air...

"A sandy trail in the Borderlands,
runs past a keep locked tight,
a young girl made by her father's hands,
roast joint to warm the night!"

Perform: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Ore claps his hands along with Zdravko's tune, cheering wildly at its conclusion. "Beautiful, beautiful!" he calls out.

When he can, he waves the server back to their table, and asks, ever-polite:
"Now my lady, do please tell us: what business might this handful of adventurers find to keep us busy in the coming days? I can't imagine any place out here on the border being wholly without the sort of problems our stock can solve, even such a fine place as this."

Many of the patrons stop and lend their ears to the bard's tune, nodding to the music and clapping appreciatively when the performance is finished. More than a few patrons toss a few coppers his way. (Zdravko gains 2d6 + 4 ⇒ (3, 1) + 4 = 8 copper pieces.)

"If it's danger that you seek, there is plenty to be found in this area. The wilds around us are full of many dangers, from the spiders and lizardfolk to the south, to the mad hermit that roams the Whispering Woods to the north and east, to the Caves."

"The Caves?" Ore asks, intrigued.

"The Caves of Chaos," she replies. "Follow the road to the east. It will pass a natural canyon dotted with many caverns. Great evil lurks there. It has been said that any who can clear the Caves of the evil denizens that lurk there would be admitted to the Inner Bailey and taken to meet the castellan to be rewarded.

"Oh, and of course, I can't forget the old fortress of Quasqueton. It was rumored to be the stronghold of a powerful warrior and a mighty wizard of ages past. It is said that great treasures lie within for the bold. Of course, I wouldn't know of such things," she sighs wistfully.

Zdravko magically converts his 8 coppers into 8 mugs of ale for everyone with a sly gesture to the serving wench.

Ya'bo smirks and looks bored at the talk about lizardfolk, mad hermits, and caves. But the mention of a mighty wizard snaps his head around.

"Mighty Wizard you say? I think I might have read something about the fortress of Quasqueton....."

History: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
" or maybe it was of a different fortress of Quasqueton"

Hellish caves, an ancient fortress, and woods stalked by a "mad hermit". The borderlands live up to their name; this Keep is a clear line between civilization and the untamed wilds. "There is certainly personal enlightenment to be had raiding an ancient wizard's research.", Theo thinks to himself. "Is that really all I'm here for, to improve my own understanding of the arcane?"

On a personal level, Theo was intrigued by this "mad" hermit. Over the years, Theo has learned that mad is just a simpleton's term for misunderstood. If the man survives these wilds alone, he clearly holds great wit or great power. If he survives through arcane means, he likely possesses both.

As Theo ponders, he hears Ya'Bo make mention that the gnome may have read about this Quasqueton during his studies. "So it may have a recorded history.", he thinks to himself. Theo tries to be modest in situations like this but finds it a hard pill to swallow that he would have missed such a mundane piece of arcane history during his travels.

The name hasn't stirred any memories for Theo, that's for sure. Perhaps it was being translated to common from an older dialect. Or maybe...maybe it was because Theo's knowledge was more first-hand than Ya'Bo's.

Theo's journey of enlightenment has taken him far and wide, but not always by foot. It was fairly common for Theo to fall asleep at an inn only to awaken in a dragon's den or a hidden temple. It wasn't always a physical journey, either. For more dangerous research, Mystra would often fling Theo's consciousness to the various corners of the multiverse.

Theo closes his eyes and casts his mind back across the last decade. He searches for ruins and forts; making sure to keep the Borderland's natural topography in mind. Perhaps, if he has passed the Quasqueton before, he will have seen the name on a banner or coat of arms. Theo strokes the star around his neck; beseeching his mistress to grant him clarity.

Spell: Guidance: 1d4 ⇒ 3

History: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

-- If Theo remembers anything --

"My thanks, Zdravko." Morgan says after receiving his drink.

The paladin focuses his attention back to the group and asks. "Are any of us familiar with the workings of caves and their dangers?"

Yes master Morgan, Caves are formed by the dissolution of limestone. Rainwater picks up carbon dioxide from the air and as it percolates through the soil, which turns into a weak acid. This slowly dissolves out the limestone along the joints, bedding planes and fractures, some of which become enlarged enough to form caves.

They can also be formed by creatures burrowing through the rock. And lastly they are full of creepy, crawlies and very dirty.

Ya'Bo smiles

Was that what you were asking about master Morgan?

*tsk* Of course the skies are my domain, not caverns. Nonetheless I would welcome the opportunity for such a new experience. Spelunking, they call it? Besides, this 'canyon' might present interesting heights to try out my latest wingcraft...hmm, now thats exciting!" he pulls out an odd schematic and does a few calculations with bottle caps "Certain new thoughts have just occurred to me...of course I would need to find the right kind of carpenter...yes, we should help these people as much as we can. As strangers its the best way to get help ourselves, right?" he takes a long drought from the mug.

"I suppose that will do Ya'Bo." Morgan answer with a nod. "I think we'll need climbing equipment and extra food just to be safe. That is assuming we choose to explore these caves."

"Either that or the old fortress do sound like they would contain their fair share of risk and reward," Isandril offers as he aaccepts Zdravko's mug of ale with a nod of acknowledgement and gratitude, even if he does not partake of it, preferring his wine. "Either way, some extra rations cannot hurt. We do not know how long it will take to explore any of the two places."

"Well if Spelunking is what you're in to, then spelunking is were we will go. At least I know that some in our party will not be hitting their heads on the ceiling."

Ya'Bo give Ore a wink

"You are correct Isandril, proper preparations are essential for any endeavor."

Ya'Bo looks around for the serving girl and waves her over.

"Excuse me, but what establishments to you recommend for us to acquire goods from to go into the wilds?"

"Olek, the provisioner, can meet most needs, though for armor or weapons, you will want to speak to the trader, Khalidd. The two shops are adjacent to one another."

"Convenient! I do dare say you've been quite helpful, my lady!" Ore responds, positively thrilled to have stumbled onto something so profound so quickly...and not hitting his head was always a plus.

"You have been a wealth of information, thank you so much."
Ya'Bo hands her a silver coin.

The woman tips her head and gives a disarming smile before moving on.

Theo pulls his wandering mind back to the present. His compatriots have begun discussing the groups next course of action. He was mildly dismayed to hear no mention of the hermit. Theo understands the allure of hidden secrets better than most, but he can't help but be disheartened seeing everyone so quick to dismiss such an intriguing anomaly. That's to say nothing of this man's potential plight.

"Hmm. It seems we are pretty on set on exploring these caves.", Theo says "I shan't be the dissenting vote, but I wonder if you all might suffer a compromise?

If I understand the young lady correctly, then both The Caves of Chaos and a section of the Whispering Woods lie to the East. All I ask is that should we face such a decision; we go through the woods, not around. I'm certain this "mad hermit" is more than he seems. And I'd very much like to increase our chances of crossing his path.

Ya'Bo, Sand. Any student of the arcane surely knows how loosely the common folk throw about words like madness. How quick they are to fear what they don't understand."

The young serf hands out Zdravko's round of mead. Theo raises his mug in thanks.

"Zdravko. What else would decent, life-loving folk call anyone whose studies entail flinging themselves from cliffs? Surely you've been honored with such a title.

Tell me, friends. What symptom of madness allows a lone man to survive these Mystra-forsaken lands? Noone stricken of their wit calls these wilds home."

Theo pauses for a moment, taking in a mouthful of mead.

"Besides. Say this hermit truly has taken leave of his senses and is now wandering aimlessly in the woods; a man of my station is duty bound to render aid"

Thank you Zdravko for your kind offer. But I find that spirits dull my mind.

Ya'Bo pushes the drink away from himself

Sitting back, he interlaces his fingers and places them on the table. He closes his eyes for a second or two, when he opens them he looks at the party.

"Theo is quite right, to many 'Mad' could be mistaken for eccentric. And 'Mad' or not he IS living out in the wilds and may have some valuable information on the caves and/or the surrounding area."

But in the mean time we could offer this drink"

now pointing at his untouched cup

to that older guardsmen who is sitting by himself and maybe it would loosen his tongue of what he knows about the hermit, caves, or nearby woods. I don't speak his 'military' language so perhaps someone else would care to try?"

Looking at the other party members

The Skylord winks and picks up the cup immediately setting off for the guardsman "My name's Ralph and I'm a bad guy. Just kidding, hail sir! Care to share our table? My company and I would love to hear stories of these lands from someone with the breadth of experience as you must certainly possess. We have heard scant rumor of a hermit, caves, and woods and seek the true, no nonsense breakdown." he sets down the ale.

Persuasion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

"I am Zdravko, the Skylord. Inventor and explorer of possibilities." he bows.

"A life of seclusion can do many things to ones mind, sometimes for the better but quite often the opposite. We should be weary of any possibility until we know the truth of the matter." Morgan suggests.

@Zdravko: "Scron, and you should be wary with whom you joke, friend. I manage the Outer Bailey. The rumors you heard are true. The Caves of Chaos lie about a league to the northeast, and Castellan Macsen has offered a substantial reward for any who completely clear the evil there. The lost fortress of Quasqueton also lies in that direction, and you may find adventure there as well."

Perhaps I've heard a story about Quasqueton before?

History: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23