GM Doug's The Fall of Plaguestone

Game Master Doug Hahn


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Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

On the highest branch of a pine tree far above, Glunda claps as the wagon is wrenched free! She seems to be up there on the lookout for more wolves, but who knows how she got there.

Ulf and Olf cheer. We're so glad you could do it, without our help!


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

You crest a hill and the town of Etran's Folly is revealed just ahead — for what it's worth. The place is mostly deserted; it once might have had well over a half-thousand citizens, but now only half that — and many residents now live on turnip farms or in small homes on the outskirts.

Bort is walking alongside your wagon. He points to the North part of town, where the houses look completely abandoned. Them's the Dead Homes. Once a nice neighborhood, but the plague hit it hardest. The ones who're callin' that place home are the ones we don' wanna deal with, bein' that we're upstandin' caravaners an' traders. The desperate an' the squatters live there. You notice smoke coming from a house near the river; it has a dead willow tree out in front.

He nods at a foot path to the side of the road. Drunk Shepherd’s Path. Used to be sheep pastures. Leads to the old shrine, by way o' the turnip farms 'n Etran's Hill. Shrine's mostly for Gozreh, though few go there now — though I suspect Glunda may say her piece to the ol' the Sky Father when she has a moment.

To the southeast of town is a hill covered in old stones and burned debris. That's the "Folly" of Etran's Folly, says Bort. A proud man was Etran Bolmere, the town's founder, an' he wanted his grand mansion to be built where all could see. But the hill's about as far away from the nearest water source, an' though he was warned, he built there anyhows. Thought he knew better. An' can you believe it? Jus' five years after movin' in it burnt to the groun,' killin' him'n all his family. He makes a sign of respect to Magrim, the overseer of the dwarven afterlife.

There does look to be a town center — and a well-kept inn in the middle of it. Bort licks his lips and points. There's the ol' Feedmill! Inn, tavern, and general store. Our restin' place for the night!

You enter the town's dusty and empty streets. Near the Feedmill, you come across a large, flat, cylindrical rock standing two feet high, with a hole in its center and a bowl-shaped depression off to one side. It's covered in moss and ivy, like a forgotten relic. But Bort remembers.

He leans over and whispers: That there's the Plaguestone. When the sickness was rampagin' and killin,' the healthy kept their distance from the sick. But the townsfolk weren't so heartless as to offer no succor, y'see. It was here at the plaguestone they gave the sick food, an' the sick gave the healthy their coin (which they likely wouldn' be needin' much longer). Th' healthy would drop their food into that there bowl — he points at the depression in the side of the stone — an' the sick would drop their coin into the cup in th'middle — he points to the hole in the center. Th'cup was full o' vinegar, so as to un-contaminate the plague from the coins. In this way, the healthy folk could buy the sick more foodstuffs, or get paid for helpin' 'em. An' at least the sick didn' die hungry.

'Twas the only contact the sick had with those they loved, and the loved with the sick. The old dwarf looks sad at this thought, and falls into a melancholy quiet as you enter the town square proper.

He soon perks up as you near the Feedmill. I'd like ta thank ya for takin' care o' th' Aplha wolf — that was one scary beastie — an' for helpin' push my wagon outa th'muck when others wouldn't — he shoots a look at the brothers, who seem to be fully recovered. I'd like to dine with you tonight, at the Feedmill. Best turnip porridge for a hunnred miles aroun'! Dinner's on me, on account of you bein' heroes today an all! Whaddya say!?

Town map on Slide One and full-size here.

Let Bort know if you agree, or if you have any questions for him about this town.


Exhausted and covered in mud, Cai Fen visibly perks up at the mention of rest and food (especially if said food is not being prepared by Cooky).

You will be hearing no disagreement from me, Bushy Bearded Bargith Bort!

But tell me, how did this plague start and spread so rapidly? Was there truly no help for the afflicted? Is this common in your unci... in Avistan?


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Don’t know. But that’s what plagues do: they kill good and spread fast.


F Human Champion/3

Kyrie listens to Bort’s stories as always with patient focus, digesting every word earnestly and thoughtfully. ”I like the story of this town. I would enjoy eating this porridge.”

The discussion of the eponymous Plaguestone particularly grabs her attention, in particular the quiet resilience of people surviving horrors beyond their control. ”I think a plague is never just a plague. This world contains too many evils for us to have the luxury of assuming simple chance at work, especially in lands touched by The Tyrant.”

The latter sentence was a quote from Bright Lady and White Knight, a horror-romance set during the Shining Crusade against The Whispering Tyrant a millennium ago. The phantom of a wronged Ustalavic peasant woman—the Bright Lady—binds herself to a young wayward foot-soldier—the White Knight—in a quest for vengeance against the Tyrant. The two confront the greatest horrors at the Tyrant’s disposal and fall in love beyond the bounds of death. But the Bright Lady will not abandon her vengeance, leading to questions of how far one can (or should) go for the one they love.

Despite her prodigious bibliography, the author—a Varisian farrier named Inana Brissex—was relatively unknown outside of enthusiast circles, to the point that she needed to maintain her day job to pay for day-to-day expenses. Fortunately for her, Avelina Galfrey—the current Princess of Mendev—was one of those enthusiasts, and upon recently finding out about the author’s circumstances, insisting upon granting her full patronage so that Inana could devote her full attention to writing.

Verdant Wheel

Male NG Elf Sorcerer Champion of Erastil | HP 24/24 | AC 20 | Class DC 19 | F: +5, R: +7, W: +7 | Perc: +5 | Speed 30ft | Ranged: Pebble Potshot +9 1d4+4, Melee: Longsword +7 1d8+2 Active conditions: None

"Some food and rest sounds good after this long day. I will join you Bort"


NG Hobgoblin Alchemist Detective G'nak details | HP 26/26 | AC 19 | Class DC 17 | F: +7, R: +10, W: +4 | Perc: +4 | Speed 25ft | Ranged: Crossbow +4 1d8, Melee: Morningstar +4 1d6 Active conditions: None

G’nak shakes his head as Kyrie’s words sink in.

”Better to be blown up and die quick than waste away to some plague. Hope I go out with a bang.”

He claps Guyzer on the back in comradeship.

”You know times have changed when I can agree with an elf! Especially one full of magics. Let’s get ourselves to the tavern!”


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Polygamodioecious | Notes | Druid 3 | Stats | HP 35/35 | AC 17 | F: +8, R: +6, W: +11| Perc: +11

Marula nods at Bort's invitation.

By now, the dwarf will be used to the leshy's fascination as they watch the caravan members eat. They have no use for turnip stew, but have delighted in helping Cooky carefully gather sprigs of herbs for the travelers' meals.

Just this morning, before leaving camp, Marula found valerian root and added it to Cai Fen's tea and the twins' porridge. They noted to Cooky drily,

"Resting imps can dream
Of merry mischief all day.
Gives us all relief."

They wander a bit through the town and gaze out towards the fields. In their notebook, they record observations on vellum pages.

Irrigation adequate, not optimal.

Promising use of mulch and compost to produce dense foliage in resting plots.

Look into local legume varietals to help improve soil fertility.

Wood of buildings show signs of clearcutting. Trauma seen in rings going back fifty cycles. This place is cursed.

Horizon Hunters

Male Human Swash 3 / AC 20 / Character Page

Cai Fen struggles to keep his eyes open and he surveys the despondent streets.

Perhaps we have some supplies to spare for the poor people here? Or at least sell at a discount?

And what of the law here? Who governs the village now?

Unable to stifle a yawn, he mutters

That wagon has sapped all my strength. I swear I drank the entire pot of tea to no avail.

Will Save: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

He staggers on his feet...


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Bort nods at Cai. I sell at fair prices, an' do what I can. But there's many places like this in Avistan. As for whose in charge, well, there's a mayor — Targen Fulst, but he actually stepped down a while back and none have bothered to run since. So I suppose the old man's still mayor. His daughter, Delma, runs the Feedmill an' is much a leader an anyone else around here. There's a sheriff, too — one Rolth Garley, but he don't have much to do but handle livestock disputes and whatnot.

Spoiler:
1d20 ⇒ 1
1d20 ⇒ 9
1d20 ⇒ 4

Bort grins. Lookin' forward to it! Please, help stable the wagons and get settled in. I'll go see to some private accounts, an' meet ya aroun' dinner time. Bort puts some heavy saddlebags on his horse, then gallops off.

The Feeedmill itself is a well-maintained old mill building that has been converted into a multi-purpose space: inn, general store, and stable. The whitewashed structure likely functions as the town's epicenter, functioning the only meeting hall, place of entertainment, and supply depot for miles around.

As you make your way to the inn, you notice a drunk snoring loudly in lean-to shelter. The man's clothes are filthy and his hair is disheveled. Empty bottles lay around his worn but well-made boots.

Inside the stables, a halfling leaps down from the hayloft. You can smell the turnip ale on her breath when she yawns and stretches; she inspects at the horses carefully and begins helping you unharness them and lead them into the stalls. You poor things, working so hard! And you look stressed — were you in a fight? While the halfling might not be totally sober, the stalls look freshly mucked out and the hay is dust-free. Glunda, being more comfortable around the animals than people, stays behind to help. The stable-hand introduces herself as Edra Wythe.

The tavern portion of the inn is clean. The floor underfoot is worn bare from years of scrubbing, and the walls are empty.

A half-elf in ragged finery strums a lute on a small stage. The instrument is missing a few strings. There's a middle-aged woman wearing a conservative but well-made grey dress behind the bar. A waiter and waitress sit together at a nearby table, sharing gossip.

The only patron is an imposing man with scars crisscrossing his face. He’s eating a meal alone. A trembling goblin stands atop a stool, refilling the man’s glass of water from a carafe. When the goblin spills a few drops the man slowly turns and looks at the goblin, who cowers in terror before running off.

Ulf and Olf push past you, dashing for the bar. Delma! Two turnip ales, please! The grin, clearly excited for a night of carousing.

The bartender nods. Been a while, Ulf, Olf. Bort's back in town? Whose those with you? She wipes her hand on a cloth and offers it. Delma Fulst. Proprietress, shopkeep, and owner of the Feedmill. Welcome to Etran's Folly.

Horizon Hunters

Male Human Swash 3 / AC 20 / Character Page

Cai Fen staggers over to Delma Fulst and gives a shaky bow.

Nice to meet...mm.. Cai Fen of the house of the PlmfjgfEshhl...could use nice bed...


F Human Champion/3

Kyrie curtsies with her armored skirt. ”I am pleased to meet you, Delma Fulst. I am
Kyrie. I am called Breakspear. I am a paladin in the service of Iomedae.”

Kyrie takes a seat and fidgets as she tries to find a comfortable position at the bar. If anyone knows anything about the person she is looking for. ”Have you seen or heard of a half-elven woman with pale silvery-blue hair?” Beirivelle’s hair was always her most distinctive feature.


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Spoiler:
1d20 ⇒ 7

Marula:
You look around at the town and overgrown pastures to see if anything seems out of the natural order; the land seems as it should be.

Delma gestures to the waiter. Kolnral. Show this tired man to his room. The male waiter shrugs, and stands up slowly. He trudges up the rickety wooden stairs and leads Cai to the night's lodgings in the mezzanine area. He throws open a thin door and then departs without a word. Cai finds himself in a small room, with two thin straw mattresses on the floor.

Delma nods at Kyrie. Pleasure to meet you. Pale, silvery-blue hair, you say? Can't say I have. We don't get many travelers through here. She pours Ulf and Olf a second ale. The brothers seem to be testing a set of gambling dice.

Tamli comes in, mud freshly scraped from her boots. Delma grins: Good to see you, Tamli! Trin, set a table for our guests! The waitress, Trin, goes to her work with gusto, peppering Tamli with questions about the adventures she and Bort have had in the outside world: Did you and Bort rescue any princes trapped in towers? Did you steal another dragon's gold? Tamli sighs, and mutters, I'm sure we have have, Trin, and I'm sure I'll be the last to know…

The scar-faced man looks around and sneers. He drops some coins onto table (several roll onto the floor), and stands. He's very tall, and his rough laborer's clothing covers a muscular frame. Seeing the man up and about, the goblin barback darts under a table. The man begins making his way to the door, but not before pausing where the little goblin hides. He slowly leans over, grinning…

BOO!

Everyone in the place jumps. Another string on the bard's lute snaps. The terrorized goblin scuttles away on all fours, knocking over a chair as he goes. HAW, HAW! The man's cruel laughter follows him out the door.


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Delma frowns. Phinick… come here. The goblin runs over; his green head is just higher than the bar. The proprietress pours him a sweet lemonade. You can see that Phinick is wearing hand-me-down children's clothes — likely the town doesn't have anything else in goblin size. It's okay, Phinick. He's just a bully, that Hallod. Never you mind him. You're safe now. The goblin blushes and, holding the lemonade in both hands, runs off to enjoy his treat in private.

Sorry about that. Now don't you worry: Phinick's a good goblin, as far as they go. He means no harm — not that most of the town here believes me. And Hallod's just a bully, as I said.


NG Hobgoblin Alchemist Detective G'nak details | HP 26/26 | AC 19 | Class DC 17 | F: +7, R: +10, W: +4 | Perc: +4 | Speed 25ft | Ranged: Crossbow +4 1d8, Melee: Morningstar +4 1d6 Active conditions: None

G’nak finds a moment to approach Phinick and speak with him in Goblin.

Nak rav blech knogg rvacht kek nell bock phtttb goog etc, etc, etc...:
“Pardon me good fellow, but I couldn’t help but notice your troubles with that tall, scarred man. Perhaps if I better understood the situation, my friends and could be of some assistance.”


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Phinick clutches his lemonade and blushes. The little guy is rather shy!

Goblin:
Why you ask pardon? You fart? He sniffs the air, confused.

What? Yes! Me good fellow! Good! No hurt nobody! Serve drink and clean table good! Hallod meanie! Scary! Fight all time! Fight for fun! Sometime, kick me. It hurt. He like old goblin boss. People laugh. People no like goblin. But Delma nice. Please: no make Hallod mad. When you go, things just worse for Phinick!

Horizon Hunters

Male Human Swash 3 / AC 20 / Character Page

Mattress... sleep...

Cai Fen will drop his pack haphazardly, remove his armor, and fall face first onto a mattress.


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Cai is exhausted from the day's work, and falls asleep.

The lute-player, a pock-marked, middle-aged half-elf with long, oily blonde hair, saunters over to you and bows. You notice that the back of his greasy bellany shirt is in tatters… but it looks passable from the front, and at a distance.

Finnias Flonk, Minstrel! Poet! Storyteller! It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such grand personages! Please, should you have any musical requests for tonight's concert, do not hesitate to share your thoughts — for a token pittance I'll perform it.

He spins on his heel and delicately places his empty wine glass on the bar.

With gravitas, he folds his hands across his belly, waiting.

He stares at Delma.

She crosses her arms and stares back.

He unfolds his hands and reaches deep into his pocket… then reaches deep into the other, where he eventually finds a coin.

He blows the pocket lint off it before he slaps it on the table with a sense of oft-wounded pride, whereupon she refills the glass. Do none appreciate the finer arts? he mumbles to himself.

The bard's lute rests on the makeshift stage. You notice that though the bard has been tuning this instrument, it's still missing a few strings.


F Human Champion/3

Kyrie looks to the bartender. "I will be right back." She stands up and follows Hallod out the door. She spent too long surrounded by Hellknights to tolerate bullies. She rushes in front of Hallod and refuses to move, even if he tries to push past her.

"I do not approve of your behavior. I would like you to go back inside and apologize to Phinick. I would like you to stop bullying him."

While the ever-polite young woman says "I would like," her glare says "you will."

Intimidation (intimidating glare): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Hallod stops, and slowly turns around. How about… No.

He hocks up a wad of phlegm and spits on the ground between himself and Kyrie.

Now, I got business to attend to. Thank your lucky stars for that. He turns and strides away.

Unfortunately that does not beat his Will DC :(


F Human Champion/3

Kyrie scowls. She is not looking to take this matter to blows yet, but the boundary must be asserted. "I have no lucky stars. I only have my will and my life. I will bet the latter on the former any day. I have now given you your single warning." She marches off back to the bar.


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Hallod grins ferociously, eagerly looking forward to any confrontation, as he walks away.


NG Hobgoblin Alchemist Detective G'nak details | HP 26/26 | AC 19 | Class DC 17 | F: +7, R: +10, W: +4 | Perc: +4 | Speed 25ft | Ranged: Crossbow +4 1d8, Melee: Morningstar +4 1d6 Active conditions: None

In the tavern, G'nak continues his conversation with Phinick.

Goblin:
"Oh, dear chap, if I had farted, you would know. Believe me.

"Now, if I have learned one thing by serving in Azaersi's secret police, it's that it's good to have eyes and ears everywhere. Do let us know if you notice or overhear anything suspicious about this Hallod. Only a goblin boss should act like a goblin boss, especially toward a goblin."

He gives Phinick a wink and a nod before rejoining his companions.

Verdant Wheel

Male NG Elf Sorcerer Champion of Erastil | HP 24/24 | AC 20 | Class DC 19 | F: +5, R: +7, W: +7 | Perc: +5 | Speed 30ft | Ranged: Pebble Potshot +9 1d4+4, Melee: Longsword +7 1d8+2 Active conditions: None

Guyzer has been settling in and eating his supper. Taking in the warmth and energy of the tavern's atmosphere, he quietly says a prayer to Erastil renewing his pledge to help places such as these.


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Phinick looks up at G'nak.

Goblin:
Phinick licks his lips to check them. Me no chapped!

Police man no care. Scared of Hal-odd too.

You want be Phinick new boss? How come you let Hal-odd be mean and stuff? Hal-odd biggest boss, laugh when he want, kick Phinick when he want. No one stop him. When new boss go, Phinick be smashed worse!

He whispers: Maybe you bite off Hal-Odd ear? Or stab out eye, or chop finger and make him eat, or light on fire till he fry like egg, and cry… then you be Phinick boss. Like true Goblin Boss!

Typical of Goblin culture, Phinick will only follow the strongest. And Hallod seems to be it (in his mind), for the time being.


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Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Guyzer tries to order some food, but Delma shakes her head. Not ready. And you're not allowed to order until it's just right — otherwise Amora'll smack your knuckles…

From the kitchen, as if on cue, you hear a woman belting out a song, horrendously off key:

When the earth is turned in spring
The worms are fat as anything.

And birds come flying all around
To eat the worms right off the ground.

They like the worms just as much as I
Like bread and milk and apple pie…

Delma cocks her head at the racket. Well, Amora started dinner. Should be ready soon — finest meals in Etran's Folly!

Speaking of chefs, Cooky wanders in and slouches down next to Tamli. What!? That the Amora girl? The sound o' her cookin' is music to me ear, it is! He croaks and stamps his feet with excitement. It seems like even the cantankerous old elf respects this chef's work.

Horizon Hunters

Male Human Swash 3 / AC 20 / Character Page

The scent of delicious cooking wafts up through the floorboards, rousing Cai Fen from his slumber.

Bleary eyed and somewhat disheveled, he makes his way downstairs toward the dining area and takes a seat next to his companions.

That nap has given me great satisfaction, though I admit my stomach seems to have other priorities.


Polygamodioecious | Notes | Druid 3 | Stats | HP 35/35 | AC 17 | F: +8, R: +6, W: +11| Perc: +11

Marula watches the village as the sun descends. They take note of Kyrie, demanding what's right. They track Hallod as he trudges off, tracing his destination.

Eventually, they make their way into Delma's kitchen.

"If I may help serve,
For sun and earth sated me.
And idle limbs might rot."

They ask idly as they assist her,

"I beg your advice.
Who tills the land hereabouts?
I'd like to meet them.

Who builds your houses?
Their craftsmanship intrigues me.
I've much to learn here."


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Amora is a middle-aged woman who stands over six feet tall and wears her short brown hair tied tight behind her head.

She smacks Marula's roots with her ladle! Is that dirt on your root? It'll get in my pots! And no peeking at my Amora's Special Turnip Porridge! What're you, stealing my recipes? Out, you! OUT! She chases Marula from her kitchen, too proud of her work to accept assistance from strangers, and unwilling to reveal any cooking secrets.

OUT!

Cooky nods in approval at the display. The best chefs go it alone, like true warriors, an' take their rest-i-pees with 'em to th' grave, they do! He turns to Tamli, whose already rolling her eyes and looking for someone else to talk to. Take ol' Cooky, for essample. Ain't nobody takin' my eye-reens or my rest-i-pees, not ee'en from my cold dead hands! 'Tis the way o' th'true cooks, 'tis.

----

As the hour passes, farmers start wandering in. Many order turnip ale. There are now about a dozen patrons in the bar.

A farmer wearing a floppy hat and dirty overalls slowly walks in; he’s trying to affect a (much exaggerated and poorly executed) sober gait. He leans on the bar. DEEEELMMMMAAA! DEELMMMAA! He pounds his fists. Wagon Grease, Delma!

The proprietress frowns. I see you're in your cups already, Farmer Eallom. Have a turnip ale. She pours him a weak turnip ale instead of the "wagon grease," which seems to be a potent liquor. Eallom begins to belch indignant complaints, but then he notices Olf and Ulf.

Eyes wide, he stands up as straight as he can, and points a wavering finger in their gneral direction.

YOU!

He stumbles over tho them. You! You… you took all mah moneys lass time you were i'town. I'm gonna… show… yoouuu… He pulls out a handful of coins. I learn' a thing'r two since lass time, y'see. I'm gonna take all yer gold, y'juss wach… no foolin' EAL-LOM!

He lurches over to a table and slams his pile of coins down. The brothers grin like sharks and order another ale; they saunter over to the farmer's table, spinning their favorite set of dice in the air.

Been having a run of bad luck lately. Say Olf. Go easy on us, says Ulf.

----

Spoiler:
1d20 ⇒ 9
1d20 ⇒ 10
1d20 ⇒ 8

Another person walks in — the drunk from the lean-to outside. He wears what was once a padded wool shirt, now threadbare, stained, and tattered. He has bags under his eyes, as if he hasn't slept for a long time. The other farmers look away.

Kyrie:
This man's padded shirt was once a gameson, the kind one would wear under full plate. Now that you're looking closer, you see his boots seem to be military issue.

He drops a silver coin on the bar and Delma, shaking her head, gives him a bottle all to himself. He goes and sits in a dark corner, alone.


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

More rough-and-tumble farmers gather. Bort finally arrives, and waves you over to the table he has reserved. His voice booms: Over here! He turns to the bar and continues shouting. Why, DELMA! You shoulda seen the wolf these heroes bested today! Big as a house! Greedy as a dragon! A round on Bort — for the heroes! Hey?

You gather your free drinks and sit down; Kolnral sulks over and tosses hand-written menus onto the table. You'd think a place of this nature wouldn't bother printing the menu, but it seems like their fare doesn't often change:

Feedmill Menu wrote:

THE FEEDMILL

Till the turnip, raise the sheep
then to the 'Mill, where food is cheap

Starters
Turnip Salad
Turnip Soup (with leek)
Amora's Pickled Turnips
Roasted Turnips

Mains
Mashed Turnip with River Fish
Turnip Gratîn Crusty Stew
Turnip "Steaks"
Turnip Pot Pie with Mutton

Desserts
Amora's Special Turnip Porridge
Purple-Top Turnip Pie

Bort rubs his hands. Nows, I insists ye's gets the turnip porridge for dessert! It's Amora's speciality! Wonders of the turnip, I tell ye. He turns to Kolnral. Lad, you knows old Bort wants a triple-helpin' o' th'good stuff! Make ready!

Bort orders the Turnip Pot Pie for his main ("Crusty on top and bottom!"), slapping his belly in anticipation.

What a day! My private customers be taken' care of, as is the first rule of all caravaners. Now the second rule: we take cares of ourselves!

Flonk starts playing a jig. It's off-tune and his voice cracks. Several farmers try to square dance with their partners; their stamping feet seem to do a better job keeping the beat then the poor bard (whose lute is still missing strings).

Bort shouts over the music, holding his mug of turnip cider. Now! I've done shared a mite o' my TRUE TALES on th'road with ye's. But I barely know ye, and I am a collector of tales, right and true. Have ye any astoundin' tales of yer own? I'd like to hear from all of ye's — we have time. The pot pie takes an hour or so.

Over the course of dinner, Bort would like to hear any tales you might have! Please accompany your story with a perform check.


Going to give a perform check now and make up a story based off how well I do.

Perform (untrained): 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1

Oh good. Time to get creative.


Polygamodioecious | Notes | Druid 3 | Stats | HP 35/35 | AC 17 | F: +8, R: +6, W: +11| Perc: +11

Perform: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (3) + 0 = 3

Marula rises to speak, and begins a discourse on the craft of living architecture before meandering nervously into a lecture about resting pastureland. They belatedly introduce themselves with a number of words in Polyglot. As the less patient members of the crowd begin talking to each other, the heady little leshy's voice trails off...


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Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Bort politely nods. Can't say I knows much about all that. Now, do these "restin' pasturelands" e'er wake up? Rise 'gainst the good folk? Y'know, like them ancient evils what like to waylays the good caravaners o' th'land 'n whatnot. Them's in needs a good punchin,' let me tell ya! Old Bort's knocked low a few rotten ol' treants in his time! Bort starts making axe-chopping moves with his turnip-stained spoon…


Polygamodioecious | Notes | Druid 3 | Stats | HP 35/35 | AC 17 | F: +8, R: +6, W: +11| Perc: +11

Marula...

Diplomacy for composure: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

... visibly wilts in the face of Bort's incredibly rude behavior. On their shoulder, Tila rustles angrily.


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 7

The kind old dwarf might not have a mean bone in his body, but he obliviously and cheerfully chops on, lost in his imagined battles against evil treants…

Perhaps another story would distract old Bort…

Verdant Wheel

Male NG Elf Sorcerer Champion of Erastil | HP 24/24 | AC 20 | Class DC 19 | F: +5, R: +7, W: +7 | Perc: +5 | Speed 30ft | Ranged: Pebble Potshot +9 1d4+4, Melee: Longsword +7 1d8+2 Active conditions: None

Guyzer will try to spin a tale of the serene glades and bubbling brooks from where he grew up. The outer reaches of Kyonin

Perform: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Well told, Guyzer! A right nice past-tore-all — as they say — home an' hearth an' what have you. Or leaves n' brooks an' babblin' books, as ye elves like it. He strokes a beard-braid. Now thens again, there's that feller 'round there in those parts, choppin' al kinda things down willy-nilly. No regards for them's Elven past-tore-alls. None a'tall. ShrubCutter I think he goes by, but I might be misremberin'. He's not a nice one, I can tell ye that for sures…


Polygamodioecious | Notes | Druid 3 | Stats | HP 35/35 | AC 17 | F: +8, R: +6, W: +11| Perc: +11

A clear sap runs down the bark of Marula's face.

"Those poor shrubs and ents.
She Who Guides the Wind and Waves
Howls at such mayhem."

They stroke the exposed grain of one of the many clear cut trees that comprise the plant abattoir of an inn. A puff of gloomy pollen erupts from Tila.

Horizon Hunters

Male Human Swash 3 / AC 20 / Character Page

After hearing Guyzer's wistful tale of Kyonin, Cai Fen feels a pang of homesickness. Perhaps a tale from his homeland? But which one. He loses himself in thought...


NG Hobgoblin Alchemist Detective G'nak details | HP 26/26 | AC 19 | Class DC 17 | F: +7, R: +10, W: +4 | Perc: +4 | Speed 25ft | Ranged: Crossbow +4 1d8, Melee: Morningstar +4 1d6 Active conditions: None

Perform: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

G'nak mumbles something about one time when he blew up nest of vipers and sent snakes flying.

He orders the Mashed Turnip with River Fish.


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Bort claps at G'nak's story — which, if not performed to perfection, at least contains things blowing up.


Polygamodioecious | Notes | Druid 3 | Stats | HP 35/35 | AC 17 | F: +8, R: +6, W: +11| Perc: +11

Marula seeks out Glunda.

"Old Bort, he means well.
But fauna sees plants as inert,
Not thinking creatures.

"Would you aid my goal?
To introduce new methods
That harm fewer trees?

"Maybe farmers and
Carpenters will adopt
More fruitful methods."

Horizon Hunters

Male Human Swash 3 / AC 20 / Character Page

Explosions, yes. Cai Fen decides his story should have action!


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

When Marula gets up to leave, Bort blushes, finally realizing the error of his ways. He puts the spoon down. Ahh, Marula! Please, don't go. Forgive this ol' caravaner, who doesn't rightly know the ways 'o plants. He stands and bows. Rightly sorry; I tend to blather on and on without thinking. How can I make it up to you 'n Tila? Let it ne'er be said Bort is not a good friend — now when he knows better!


Polygamodioecious | Notes | Druid 3 | Stats | HP 35/35 | AC 17 | F: +8, R: +6, W: +11| Perc: +11

Marula stops in their tracks. They attempt to make a pitch to the gathered farmers, starting of nervously but gaining confidence.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Hero point reroll: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

"Old caravaner,
No harm. All is forgiven.
I'm sorry as well.

"We leshies prize peace.
I've traveled far to give voice
To plants who can't speak.

"I share here humbly:
An oak may fall. That's okay,
If forests survive.

"We can make it so,
And give you larger harvests.
Let me show you how."


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

I'm all for it, to help a friend! I promise to listen to th'plants and trees, an' Glunda can help too, spreadin' word as we travel. An' who knows? More happy plants an' healthy places to live means more harvestin… which means more caravanin' to do, hey?

Bort spits in his hand and sticks it out for a shake.


Polygamodioecious | Notes | Druid 3 | Stats | HP 35/35 | AC 17 | F: +8, R: +6, W: +11| Perc: +11

Tila trills with relief and Marula's leaves lose their wilt. Twig fingers wrap around Bort's meaty hand.

"Thank you, Master Bort.
I'm curious, friends: What legumes
Do you like to plant?"


F Human Champion/3

Performance: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Kyrie decides to indeed tell her own true tale: the story of herself and how she got here.

She relates the story written in her background just as it's written


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

Bort looks despondent at Kyrie's tale. Thank ye for sharin' that, Kyrie. I suspect it ain't easy an' I'm grateful. He fiddles with his napkin and pretends to wipe some food off his cheek. I hope ye find this Starshine, an' I promise on my honor keep my ears open too, to help a friend an' do what little good a caravaner can can do in this world.


Fall of the Plaguestone & Casefiles of Smokeworker G'nak | Siege of Gallowspire | Lions of Katapesh | Flooded King's Court

I'm partial to th' black bean mesself, Marula. Right nice in Cooky's stew, but he can do well with any bean!

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