|
BK fishes out a carrot and munches contentedly as they march over to the dwarves.
"What did she say the dwarves have? Oh, right, potatoes, not rocks. Though... have you ever noticed how potatoes look like rocks? I wonder of one of the dwarf gods turned rocks into potatoes and that's why dwarves mine them. It seems like a dwarvy godly thing to do, doesn't it?"
BK prattles on about fantastical musings about potatoes, rocks, dwarven gods, and purple potatoes between small carrot bites and crunchings and munchings.
A small mining compound sits just at the foot of the Hollow Hills. Several dwarves sit outside eating lunch. Hanging above the entrance is the sign “Steim Mine: Our Roots Run Deep.”
At the head of the table sits a venerable dwarf with a flowing white beard spilling over his mining leathers. "Hello there. Haven't seen you around, and I expect I'd know if I had! Customers, then; here for ore or potatoes? If it's the former, you're in luck. If it's the latter, there might be a problem."
"Hey now, nothin' wrong with the purple carrots. But nope, I'm afraid I can't give you any potatoes. The current crop is all set aside for the stone st--oh, hang on now. That's what you said, isn't it?"
The old dwarf sits up, but winces as he does so. "Running errands for Kupyn, are you? Well that's wonderful. You have my joint pain tincture? She always makes it for me, and this time she's late in getting it to me already. My knee has surely seen better days. Won't be able to go to the feast myself, at this rate. Name's Jaget Steim on that order, I'm the elder here."
He rubs his joints and looks pointedly between everyone who has spoken to him.
"Oh look, you just whip that up, do you? Kupyn'd give me a big bottle to last for a while, but I suppose that's more'n I can ask you to do with herbs growing by the road... I'm sure she's busy with holiday prep. We are, and I'm sure she's busier than us.
"Right, right, potatoes." He turns towards the doorway behind him and bellows, "POTATOES! For Kupyn. And bring some of that solvent, too, why don't you?"
Another dwarf emerges, carrying a large sack of potatoes and two small, red glass bottles.
"This stuff is why you don't eat raw deep root potatoes. Well, why you don't eat 50 of them in one sitting. One of the reasons. Highly concentrated, this stuff can dissolve rock. Careful with it! I'm sure you'll find a good use for it.
"We'll look forward to seeing you at the Winter Week Feast, then!"
|
|
Let me to have an eye on this. I can help you you know.
Crafting: 1d20+4
Nature/Medicine: 1d20+7
The dwarf tries to help the fellow dwarf to feel better.
”Well done!”, says Black Molly. ”Pulled our fat out o’ the fire!”
*Ahem* Just what, do you plan to do with those, young jester?
”More jugglin’, no doubt”, Silverbeard replies. ”Lucky he’s not aboard my ship, or he’d risk a keel-haulin’!”
The scallions in the grove weren't actively tended by the villagers, but nor were they left entirely alone. The brownies cared for them.
As you approach the grove, a multitude of twinkling lights begin dancing about in the shadows beneath the ancient trees. Giggles and whispers fill the air, but you see nothing.
Upon reaching the center of the grove, where scallions, garlic, onions, and chives grow in thick clumps amid the dark soil, the whispering stops and the twinkling lights fade.
Several diminutive fey wearing leaves and flowers emerge from their hiding places from within the wood. One, taller than the rest, wearing a crown of woven scallions and holding a purple onion flower (several times her height) like a scepter, steps forward. "I am Nelia Starsister, the Grove's Grand Garlicia and Alliumic Empress. Who are you to set foot in our domain?"
|
|
Excitedly BK shows of the other goodies.
"We have carrots, of all colors, sort of like your lovely outfit. and potatoes from the dwarves, though they are not quite as colorful. You wouldn't happen to have any food grade dye, would you? Besides the normal stuff for the soup, of course, to liven the event up?"
|
|
"We are summon by the witch that make rock stew and we mean no harm. We would like to have some of the ingredients by which the others can only found here, perhaps." Severus tries to be as diplomatic as he can be. "I hope you don't mind helping us so that we all can celebrate the Winter Week." he adds with a awkward smile.
"I see. You are, then, representatives of one Kupyn Baro, the Witch of Scallion's Wrap?" Nelia seems at once a being of ancient wisdom and childlike, making it uncertain how whether her claim to being an "empress" was sincere or a game.
That image shatters almost immediately, as she grips her floral scepter and her eyes shine with tears. "Um, um, um, then I gotta explain! We were looking after Lord Darbington the Golden for her--"
"We do so love dear Sir Darbious the Glorious!" interjected another Brownie, who disappeared again as Nelia glared at him.
"An', an', an' we wanted to make him even more noble! And so we braided his fur, and we put ribbons in it and everything! He was so pretty! An' then Miss Kupyn came back, and we thought she liked it. But then she just started yelling at us for no reason! She said we just put knots in his hair, and she said she was sick of our pranks--we don't do pranks! Mostly. We love Prince Darbworthy the Just, and we'd never do anything mean to him, EVER!
"An' then!" Nelia howls, pointing at a nondescript jumble of logs. Although, now that your attention is drawn to them, they do somewhat resemble a collapsed structure. Not a true building, certainly, but a crude fort. "She knocked down our castle! Her behavior was most appalling."[b] The Grand Garlicia sticks out her tongue, as the other Brownies poke their heads up to echo bits of her story. [b]"She's mean!"
|
|
"Darbawho? Her familiar?"
BK is pretty confused about the subject of their antics, though he is quite familiar with fallout like this.
"She did seem a bit cranky and depressed. I think this whole festival thing has taken a bad turn, at least in her head. If you would help set it to rights, the witch would almost certainly forgive you."
A brownie tugs at Banterknell's sleeve. "Nay, not her familiar," he whispers, "merely her pet dog. Though to say he's 'merely' anything feels a bad insult. In truth his given name is 'Darb', but we find this drab appellation lacking in syllables to befit the msjesty of the absolute goodest boy!" he clasps his hands reverently, almost in awe at the thought of the golden wolf hound the Pathfinders had seen earlier at Kupyn's side.
"Your words do carry a ring of truth," admits Nelia, "The work expected of the Witch at this time must be stressful. Even we... our kind does not normally make deals and bargains. We trade in favors, but informally. Nobody asked us to become the guardians of the grove, we took it upon ourselves as we saw it would be useful to the people. But we understand that the scheduled celebration requires a deadline. It's not our way of doing things, but we appreciate this difference. We know that if we didn't promise to deliver the scallions for the stone soup on time, the people couldn't count on us. And then they'd have to grow scallions themselves even though we have so many to share. Foolish! So, for this one occasion, we do promise to... deliver.. the scallions!" Horrified, Nella drops her flower. "Oh messengers if the noble Witch, pray forgive my distraction. We have, indeed, uprising our promise. Bring forth the scallions!"
She claps her hands, and the brownies around her vanish quickly. A rustle of bustle comes from the grove.
Meanwhile, another brownie runs after the Cap'n. He shifts a log, and another one that had been pointed in place tumbles. "NoooooOooo!" she wails, "Yer doin' it wrong!"
"Thank you, Mr. Hideous Fiendish Creature," says Nelia sincerely, bowing, "In truth, the decision to aid the people of the village was made long ago. We merely echo that original decision now. It seems the brownies of the grove owe you a favor. We will watch out for you as long as you reside near our domain."
Several brownies hurry forward, carrying a tray over their heads loaded with bundles of scallions. "We will surely be present a the feast. Take these, please, to the Witch of Scallion's Wrap." She winces at the sound of crashing logs. "Take them posthaste! I'm sure she awaits their arrival.
"And.. do pass along our admiration to Duke Darbsworthy the Gentle, won't you?"
|
|
”And not a moment too soon!”, Silverbeard grumbles when they’re well out of earshot. ”Any more of their gripin’, and they would have felt this!” He raises his hook menacingly.
”Well, good thing it didn’t come to that, innit?”, Molly replies.
To Banterknell, she adds, ”I think we’ve earned our share”
|
|
"Well done, fellow." Severus gives compliment to Morthos on his effort to get the ingredients they need."I think we have everything we need: carrots and celery, potatoes, and scallions. Maybe we should go back to the witch and show her what we are able to get for her. And I am hungry anyway." Severus suggests as he gets ready to move back to the witch's place.
|
|
Not disheartened by the other's lack of enthusiasm for collecting mushrooms or other greens to add to the pot, BK keeps his eyes out for goodies to collect on the way back to the witch.
He grabs anything that looks remotely edible (which means colorful) and figures the others can sort it all out when they get there.
The return trip from the scallion grove to Kupyn's cottage is largely uneventful, though the group does draw some looks from passersby. Banterknell finds some edible and some colorful vegetation, though little that's both.
Kupyn’s cottage is brightly colored, with a thatched roof and tall chimney merrily puffing smoke into the brisk air, and a bubbling cauldron standing out near the door. Yet as you get close, the house begins to rumble and quake.
The cauldron sparks and overflows. Numerous tiny cobblestones pour out—no ordinary rocks. They all have open mouths with gleaming sharp teeth.
The rocks surge and swarm over each other, rushing towards the party, while the cauldron rocks and continues to bubble violently.
Kromrock's turn.
They generally have the Swarm Mind ability: This monster doesn’t have a single mind (typically because it’s a swarm of smaller creatures), and is immune to mental effects that target only a specific number of creatures. It is still subject to mental effects that affect all creatures in an area.
It's hard to be sure if the bullet struck any of the stones at all. Certainly it did little harm.
Tumbling over each other chaotically, the stones rolled and skipped over towards the group and swarmed over the Cap'n, their gnashing gemlike teeth digging into... his coat. The jagged stones weren't quite long and sharp enough to have any appreciable effect on the phantom himself, but the heavy stones clinging to him twisted and brought him crashing down.
Black Molly, Severus, Morthos, Impulse-7, and Banterknell's turns.
|
|
"I think it is a spell gone wrong, with her trying to master a spell that turns rocks into food!"
"Is that so? Maybe there is a way to stop it. What do you think?" Severus responds to BK. But before he can let him respond, he quickly launches three darts of force toward the cauldron, thinking it is the one that causes the cobbelswarm to be what it is now.
force damage◆◆◆ Cast a Spell, Magic Missile