The fledgling empire of Taldor united in the shadow of the Verduran Forest, a primeval bastion of titanic trees, magical beasts, and ancient secrets. Yet as it grew, Taldor saw that wilderness less as a forbidden frontier and more as a resource. Settlers braved the dappled undergrowth to harvest duskwood, only to rile the beasts, fey, and those humanoids who had learned to live in balance with the wild realm. Over generations of cyclical violence, Taldan colonists gradually surrounded the Verduran Forest, picking away at its defenses, hacking away its borders, and quashing its uprisings. Only millennia later did Taldor and the forest’s eminent druids—the Wildwood Lodge—negotiate lasting peace. This Treaty of the Wildwood has granted woodcutters a sustainable harvest in return for Taldor’s oversight, protection, and conservation.
Yet most of the forest’s inhabitants resent this fragile peace. Taldor and its former colonies surround the forest, having whittled it to a fraction of its prehistoric size. Dissidents gather to denounce the Wildwood Lodge’s appeasement policies, all while gathering strength and waiting for an excuse to retaliate against Taldor and Andoran. As forest-dwellers gather for the annual Greenwood Gala, the election of Lodge leadership, and the renewal of the treaty, there’s an opportunity to resolve old grudges—and as much potential to spark war...
Part 1: Pactbreaker
Chapter 1: Seeds of Discontent
For nearly 900 years, druids of the Wildwood Lodge have hosted the Moot of Ages, a summit held every summer solstice on the Isle of Arenway. There, Green Faith practitioners from across Golarion gather to share their knowledge with the greater druidic community and choose a leader to represent the lodge for the coming year. Few other than these druids and primal sages are allowed on the island, yet the surrounding riverbanks have no such restriction. Just across the river, an unaffiliated festival called the Greenwood Gala springs up at the same time, attracting guests from across the forest and beyond: druids, fey, woodland folk, and even dignitaries representing foreign interests. Like the moot itself, the gala invites guests to share their achievements and discoveries with the public. However, most attendees have less academic interests, instead traveling there to feast, dance, drink, and compete in contests of strength and skill.
The gala spans three days, officially concluding with a ceremonial exchange between representatives of the Verduran Forest and Taldor. The latter offers a bag of seeds in exchange for a piece of wood from the former, symbolically renewing the Treaty of the Wildwood that protects the Verduran Forest and grants Taldor limited lumber rights. Though the treaty keeps the peace, a sizable minority of forest folk grumble about its ramifications, opining that too much territory has been surrendered to Taldan despoilment. It doesn’t help that the long-standing leader of the Wildwood Lodge, Valenar the Green, plays a moderating (even Pactbreaker conciliatory) role, tacitly enabling Taldan colonists who would harvest more than they’re allowed. As Valenar considers retirement, hawkish candidates have maneuvered to lead the Wildwood Lodge and reassert the forest’s sovereignty.
You each have begun to cultivate a reputation as an adventurer and a friend to the forest. This year’s gala has dramatically exceeded its expected attendance, straining the organizers’ resources to host a safe event. Hoping to deputize help at the last minute, a Wildwood Lodge senior councilor has recruited you as part-time event security.
You have arrived to meet with this councilor, Emorga All-Seer, an awakened tortoise whose rune-etched shell is over 8 feet wide. Her wrinkled, leathery skin leaves no doubt as to her age, though her black eyes twinkle with spirit and intelligence.
“May the blessings of the Eld be upon you, friends. Never before has the Greenwood Gala welcomed so many guests! It is a wondrous sight, yet also a worrisome one—so many fey, forest folk, and festivities can create dangerous situations. It’s far larger than any I remember, and it’s more than the gala’s organizers can monitor on their own. On behalf of the Wildwood Lodge, I invite you to serve as part-time security. You would still enjoy the gala, of course. And as you respect its rules and traditions, you would assist the organizers in ensuring other guests do the same.”
"I agree," a large, agitated goose honks. "There are far too may fey around."
Higgins crunches down hard on a splinter of wood that he's been chewing in his beak.
"What would our duties be? And what about pay?"
Alessandra tosses her head in agitation. "At least the fey belong here. Valenar cozens the treekillers too much."
The towering centaur radiates menace nearly as fiercely as she does heat, even outside of the plate and barding she wears when violence threatens. She's powerfully built, heavy with muscles from her fetlocks to her shoulders. Piles of viny hair cascade down her back, and her lower half is shaggy with patches of moss. She keeps one hand tightly curled in on itself, amber beading down that arm.
"We'll keep them in check."
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"Like, of course I'll help," Kilitsi says, with a smile. "I'm, like, always having to help people who get lost in the woods, and I hardly ever can't get them home!"
The minotaur woman towers, about as tall as the tortoise is wide. Her horns end in a wicked point, but the deadliness seems somehow mitigated by the dusky rose tint shes applied to them, and the silver caps on the end. A green tunic bedecked with embroidered flowers covers her breastplate, and painted sprites with butterfly wings adorn her chainmail skirt. In fact, the only thing that seems to have avoided any adornment -- other than several magical runes -- as the huge greataxe strapped to her back.
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A hearty and humble looking Amurrun dressed in a leafy attire saunters nearby, the feline with nearly closed eyes, under which are stained black triangles, bows deeply to Emorga. The mess of grey-brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail is accented by triangular ears with hair puffing out of them framing his face. And the expansive and frazzled facial hair dangling from under his nose and chin pointing in all directions mimics that of a bushy beard on other ancestries giving him a worldly, though unmanaged, appearance.
As he stands he gives his off-white prodigious primordial pouch a good scratch like one who had just awoken from a deep nap briefly showing revealing deeply dyed hair underneath that must make out some kind of pattern. But without being managed correctly it's impossible to tell what is hidden beneath the tufts.
He begins speaking in what starts as a rumbling bellied purr that bellows into a deep sonorous almost sleepy sounding voice. "Aaaand good evening to you as well All-Seer. The festivities this year are indeed quite a bit larger than any such previous. It's good to see so many old, new, and new-old faces." He smiles wide, causing his already hard to pin-point eyes to disappear if not for the marking triangles. Giving a rotational shake of his head to loosen a stray stick, likely from his most recent nap, he looks to the others gathered.
"Ooooh yes, there are quite a few fey around as well, and with so many places for them to hide and people to prank they're no doubt going to be quite the doozy to gather up. They don't 'usually' mean any harm though." He tilts his head slightly towards Alessandria.
"Ah perhaps, but remember even in death there is life to be found blooming brilliantly, dearest sister of the wilds. I must agree perhaps as of late there has been a bit too much death without proper life blooms. Perhaps we can convince the good people to be less taxing for the next years to come lest they overtax our precious home."
Gentle Storm laughs quietly at Kilitsi's point about aiding those who get lost. "Perhaps some of them get lost on purpose?"
"The gala demands basic standards of safety, property, and integrity," Emorga explains. "Violence beyond roughhousing is prohibited, except to protect attendees. Theft and fraud are forbidden, as is using magic on other attendees without explicit consent. Anyone participating in one of the competitions is expected to abide by the rules; cheaters are disqualified and might be banned from future competitions. Finally, fire is tightly controlled, with the bonfire along the beach being one of the few sanctioned pyres. Fire magic is not banned outright, but using it heightens the severity of any other infractions committed, and irresponsible pyromancy earns a harsh reprimand.
"It will be your duty to enforce these rules and keep order. I cannot promise you monetary rewards, but I can assure you that performing your duties well will grant you much influence among the attendees and the councilors of the Wildwood Lodge."
"Hobbled!" Kilitsi dismisses Gentle Storm's idea that some people could get lost on purpose in a drawn-out whine. She isn't sure she could do that even if she wanted to. Sure, she maybe hadn't completely intended to come here when she'd found her way into the Maze of the Open Road, but it was obviously the right destination considering the life she's made for herself. And it's not like she could have gone back and told Daddy that she'd gotten lost ... very briefly.
"Whatever," she tells Emorga. "If we need to help, I guess we can do it."
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Gentle Storm offers a subtle shrug to Kilitsi's denial, "Getting lost in the world has a way of granting one untold freedoms you know."
Returning his half-focus, as he'd dare not stare directly at Emorga he nods to offer his aid. "Of course I'd be willing to help any pesky trouble makers, be they sprites, over active goblins, or even folk from the surrounding lands. It wouldn't do them well to be banned from the event... or worse."
"Contests, eh?" If geese could grin, Higgins would be managing it. "Well, those always need to be closely monitored. Is there any wagering on this contests?"
Higgins rubs his wingtips together in anticipation.
Alessandria gives a resigned sigh. "As if a good testing fire wasn't exactly what most of these people could use. Not to worry, my flames are under my control; only those I wish to shall feel them."
"Wagers do occur from time to time," Emorga says to Wispil.
Once it becomes clear that you all understand your duties, the councilor good-naturedly shoos you out of her tent. "Well, what are you standing around for? Go on! Enjoy the festival instead of gabbing with an old tortoise!"
***
The first day of the gala is off to a slow slow start, with guests more interested in catching up with old friends than watching events. Guests bring out their more perishable food, making a point to prepare large quantities that they can share with passersby, turning the fairgrounds into a massive, improvised cookout. As you wander the grounds, you get an idea of the lay of the land.
Amphitheater: Less a structure than a large clearing, this space’s perimeter is lined with fallen logs and stone slabs that also serve as audience seating. Most of the gala’s competitions and other spectator events take place here.
Bonfire: An enormous bonfire burns day and night at the end of the beach, surrounded at all times by a jubilant throng of nymphs, satyrs, and other likem-inded guests caught up in a bacchanalia of music, dance, and general revelry. Others lounge about on the beach nearby, content to enjoy the music and enthusiastically welcoming any passersby to join them for a drink.
Docks and Campsite: A handful of makeshift wooden docks have been constructed here to accommodate incoming watercraft. A large number of tents clustered along the northern bank provide shelter for the attendees, mostly of a humanoid persuasion, who have arrived at the gala by boat.
Markets: The public market area is crowded with colorfully decorated booths occupied by vendors hawking all manner of goods, both mundane and bizarre. PCs can typically locate common items of level 5 and lower, and at the GM’s discretion, they might discover uncommon or higher-level goods, particularly those with strong ties to nature or primal magic.
Exhibition Stages: These modest wooden stages, meant for performances and demonstrations, are open for use by anyone lucky enough to find one empty.
Pavilion Tents: These large and colorful tents are reserved for Wildwood Lodge dignitaries and special guests, and they remain largely empty during the day while most of the Lodge druids conduct business for the moot on the Isle of Arenway.
You also notice several guests of high esteem, ranging from foreign dignitaries to woodland celebrities to ambitious up-and-comers.
ALACREON, THE LAUGHING PRINCE: Alacreon is the de facto leader of the Blackwood satyrs, an incorrigible group of fey known for using charm to get what they want. Accompanied by a revolving cast of eccentrics, the Laughing Prince has drifted around the forest for as long as most remember.
Discovery: Nature, Perception, Society
Influence Skills: Deception, Diplomacy, Nature (to demonstrate wilderness knowledge), Performance (to amuse Alacreon with a song, dance, or joke), Society (to swap rumors)
ALYCE QUINLEY: Raised by druids and trained by Andoran’s famous Eagle Knights, Alyce leads patrols through Andoran’s forests to maintain security and legal compliance for the region’s timber industry. Although Andoran has no treaty with the Wildwood Lodge, it sends an emissary to the Greenwood Gala each year to show solidarity and gather intelligence. This is Alyce’s third year in the role. The friends she’s made are vastly outnumbered by forest folk who loathe the Andoran-based Lumber Consortium’s many transgressions.
Discovery: Andoran Lore, Perception, Society
Influence Skills: Deception, Diplomacy, Intimidation, Nature
TANASHA STARBORNE: Tanasha is the Taldan senate’s elected representative from the gnome settlement of Wispil, the heart of Taldor’s logging operations in the Verduran Forest. Despite growing tired of politics, Tanasha understands her role’s importance in Queen Eutropia’s new Taldor, ensuring that the interests of all Verduran inhabitants are well represented in the capital, Oppara.
Discovery: Arcana, Perception,Society
Influence Skills: Arcana (to discuss arcane magic with Tanasha), Deception, Diplomacy, Intimidation, Performance, Society
KHASPRICKLE: Khasprickle is unlikable and oversensitive even for a pukwudgie, driving him to recruit equally unsavory sycophants. He primarily attends the gala out of spite, assuming that he wouldn’t be welcome and that he could then enjoy pouting self-righteously. Thus far, attendees are mostly ignoring him, not challenging him, and it’s put him in an awkward social situation.
Discovery: Nature, Perception, Society
Influence Skills: Deception (to disingenuously agree with Khasprickle), Diplomacy (to shamelessly flatter Khasprickle), Intimidation, Occultism (to play into his conspiracy theories)
RUZADOYA AND VANDALYA SWIFTMANE: Ruzadoya’s and Vandalya’s family resemblance is obvious; both are powerful and muscular, with brown, battle-scarred skin and cascading dark hair braided with colorful medallions and charms. They carry massive longbows across their backs and wear armor made of still-living wood known as greenwood. They represent a powerful band of centaurs that patrol the borders of the Verduran Forest.
Discovery: Perception, Society
Influence Skills: Athletics (to physically impress the sisters), Deception, Diplomacy, Intimidation, Scouting Lore (to discuss the Verduran Forest’s vulnerable borders), Survival (to prove yourself a capable hunter)
Higgins tags along with the entourage of the Laughing Prince, who look like they know how to have a good time.
"Hey, your highness! You've got quite the crew assembled. I hear that you enjoy the contests here," the goose comments. "I've got a sure-fire system for winning at rumples, if you want to hear it."
Kilitsi finds herself drawn to Ruzadoya and Vandalya, curious what the centaur sisters think of the gala.
"Where did you find those medallions? They are so fetch!"
As she spends time with them, she effortlessly shows off her own physical abilities, largely without even thinking about it.
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Gentle Storm meanders over to the snack table and picks a few choice members from the platter onto a large leaflet to use as a plate. Then wanders over towards Alyce Quinley. "Stars above, is that you Alyce or are the sprites playing tricks on these waning eyes?" He chuckles and offers her one of the horderves from his leaf-plate. "It's good to see you again I hope the travel was well this year? The others haven't been giving you any trouble I hope."
The portly-looking feline samples his own chosen dish, a baked pastry made from locally sourced nuts, herbs, and berries while he chats with his fleeting friend. "I don't wish to get directly into business chatter, not good for the humors on the first day of the gala." He produces a bird-like warble shaking his head lightly at the mention of business. "But tell me how have you been since last year?"
Alessandria's ears twitch as she spies her cousins of the Swiftmanes, but duty draws her more than kinship, and so she first finds herself looking after Dame Alyce.
Wispil finds Alacreon among a motley gathering of satyrs at the beach bonfire. He is lean and muscular, with powerful cloven-hoofed goat legs, a mane of tousled sandy-brown hair, and an impressive pair of horns framing a ruggedly handsome face with piercing eyes. Like other Wildwood satyrs, he exudes a sweet aroma of blackwood tar.
The Laughing Prince grins at Wispil as he replies in a soft, slow drawl. "The contests here are quaint diversion at best. You may keep your system for yourself, Little Gosling. I just want to drink and have a good time."
***
Ruzadoya gives Kilitsi an appraising glance, then nods to her sister. Vandalya responds to the minotaur. "We made them ourselves. We do not care much for fashion in our tribe, but a few personal decorations serve as a pleasant diversion at times. You seem strong, sister. We could use more warriors like yourselves on the borders."
***
Alyce Quinley is an athletic young woman with light brown skin and dark brown hair. Her specialized Eagle Knight uniform sports several slashes of blue and gold but is otherwise designed for woodland camouflage. She smiles at Gentle Storm and accepts some morsels from his plate. "Gentle Storm, good to see you, as always. I have been well. As usual, my task as Andoren liaison is a thankless one. There are few who would greet me as warmly as you have. But it is important for me to be here, so here I am."
Alessandra eavesdrops on the conversation from nearby, but she doesn't get any insights into what makes Alyce tick.
"Oh, for sure. My dad gave me this ax when I was just a wee calf, though I couldn't even lift it for a long time," she replies, pulling out the impressive blade and swinging it around a few times.
"What do you need warriors for?" Kilitsi says.
"Ah, nothing like wetting the old whistle," Higgins remarks, a strange statement coming from a bird, perhaps.
"I'm quite the alcohol connoisseur. What are you drinking?"
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Gentle storm laughs softly, waving off Alyce's concerns. "Oh you know how they can be with anyone from the outside world. I mean how long have I been here? And they still don't always get along with me... or me them for that matter Haha." Though even here one would take pause on exactly how long the Catfolk had been here and fewer would be able to actually give an accurate answer.
He mills about for a little bit giving her a smile, "How has the posting in Andoren been? You hardly write, or your messanger gets eaten by wild hounds." He shrugs in jest, then notices Alessandra nearby and motions the centaur closer.
"Don't be shy now she won't bite, unless you put your fingers in her mouth. But then you've done nothing but ask for it."
Alessandria stomps her hoof and trots away from Alyce and Gentle Storm. The storm cloud of her expression breaks into a smile though, as she nears the Swiftmanes.
"Cousins! It has been too long." She reaches out to clasp their arms tightly. "Any troublemakers that we should keep our eyes peeled for?"
Alyce laughs, too, as Alessandria departs. "I told you most of them don't like me. Anyways, my posting in Bellis continues to be a source of consternation. It's difficult to maintain order with such a large population of transient lumberjacks coming in and out all the time. But it's important to keep the trade route from Darkmoon Vale safe so that the duskwood can get where it needs to go. Despite all the looks I've been getting here, it's a pleasant diversion."
***
"Only the finest spirits flow at my parties!" the Laughing Prince says to Wispil. "I do not think it is safe for birds to consume, though. My apologies, Little Gosling!"
***
"Our clan's ancestral hunting grounds are threatened on the daily," Ruzadoya says to Kilitsi. "The human pillagers that the Treaty of Wildwood enables go too far. We must remain vigilant, lest they take everything for themselves."
Ruzadoya gives Alessandria a grunt of greeting when the other centaur trots up, but Vandalya is a bit more welcoming. "Hail, cousin!" she says as she grasps Alessandria's arms. "There are always a bevy of troublemakers at social events such as this one. The Laughing Prince is a rapscallion, of course. Don't fall prey to his dubious charms. And the pukwudgie Khasprickle is an agitator. I'm sure he's up to no good."
***
As the day progresses, the gala attendees begin to gather for an imminent caber tossing contest, where any athlete can show off their strength and agility by hurling logs. Popularized by Taldan loggers, this competition challenges athletes to lift, carry, and heave a heavy pole underhand. A participant earns points based on the distance of their throw, whether the pole sticks into the ground, and the angle at which it falls (with a pole toppling in the direction it was thrown being best). This event takes place at the amphitheater.
Higgins scowls at the Laughing Prince behind his back and goes to watch the caber tossing.
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"Always happy to provide some distraction Alyce. Perhaps we can talk more business on a later day, but of course not this first evening."
---Later at the Cabar toss---
Gentle storm gingerly fills out a form to join either by himself or with a team if others wish to join him. He never expects to win, but he has entered every year that he's been present and done not terribly bad.
Like, do you want to be a team, Gentle Storm? I mean, we probably should if we're working together, right?" Kilitsi says.
She's roughly the size of a caber, so isn't sure if anyone else will try to join her.
Alessandra isn't the most graceful of centaurs, but her speed and raw power sees her easily propel the cabers down the lawn.
The pukwudgie Khasprickle has also formed a team to participate in the caber throw. He gives you a little sneer as you step into the amphitheater. "You look strong, I'll give you that, but you won't be able to beat my team! Thuja! Herkle! Gusto! They're the best!" He gestures to his teammates:
Thuja is a wood giant who has won the caber toss event five times in six years thanks to her powerful physique. Nonetheless, she seems humble, as she gives you a smile and a wave. "May the best team win!" she declares.
Herkle Saltbriar is a lanky and bedraggled spriggan. He sneers up at you. "Ya think ye're bigger than me? I'll show ye!"
Gusto Barrelbeter is a wereboar, but belying the surly stereotype of his kind, Gusto is an affable fellow with a booming, infectious laugh. "Ho, ho, ho! Let's throw!"
Khasprickle himself avoids competing, trusting to his stronger teammates to win the contest!
***
When it's Kilitsi's turn, she struggles at first to get the hang of throwing the caber. After the initial failure, though, she figures out what to do, scoring two near-perfect throws on her subsequent turns!
Wanting a fair competition, Thuja elects to only make two throws. Her first one lands off-kilter, but her second throw is exceptional!
Herkle has an unconventional strategy: he purposefully fumbles his first throw and hurts himself. This causes him to become enraged and grow to triple his height! He then fails with his second throw, but manages a solid hurl with his third.
Gusto does his best to hurl his cabers, managing one quite good throw on the second attempt.
It’s a close competition, but ultimately your team is declared the winners! Khasprickle scowls and scurries off as the crowd cheers your victory. Thuja is impressed as well. The wood giant acknowledges your strength by giving you her own caber (after whittling it down a bit).
Alessandria gives Thuja a small smile in spite of herself. "You throw as well as ever, a pleasure to see your arm once more." But this time I beat you!
"Herkle? There's always next year. Perhaps some emergency will call the best away."
Herkle mutters something unintelligible and walks away. Gusto is good-natured, though, the wereboar offering to buy you all a round of drinks!
***
After the contest, you resume your patrol of the gala. As you make your way through the market, you spot a well-dressed and agitated gnome arguing with nearby foliage. “Look, this is all just a misunderstanding!” the gnome sputters, mopping his brow. “You don’t understand. It’s worthless to you. I have money! Just let me pay you for it. Name your price!”
The bush he’s speaking to rustles, causing the clusters of red berries on its branches to dance irritably. A telepathic message, unheard but unmistakable, ripples through the crowd, a simple phrase spoken in a deep, gravelly voice.
“No. Refunds.”
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"A well performed competition from all. Though I will have to refuse the drinks for now, as we have duty still. Perhaps we can share some later tonight when we are nolonger on watch."
---------
Coming upon the gnome and the shrubbery Gentle Storm approaches before anything spirals out of control. He shakes and sways in just the correct way moving with the fluidity of a leaf on the wind towards the bush.
(Plant)"What seems to be the issue? I shall ask the gnome as well to help ease this transaction of resources."
He would then reiterate in common for the gnome.
"It seems a disagreement has come up, what seems to be the issue? I'll speak to our friend here to help find a resolution."
"No. Refunds. All-Sales-Final," the bush replies in its gravelly telepathic voice.
The gnome sighs. "My name's Tobinnalkim, but you can call be Tobin," he says. "I'm here as part of Tanasha Starborne's retinue, but last night I went off to party with the Laughing Prince. I had one or seven too many drinks, then I got the midnight munchies. I was looking for something to eat, and this talking bush here said it would trade some of its berries to me.
"When I woke up this morning, I had a case of buyer's remorse to rival my splitting hangover. I had inadvertently traded away an item of immense sentimental, if not monetary, value: a decorative brass pendant purchased during a long-ago visit to Qadira. I'm trying to buy it back, but the bush isn't interested. If you could help me, I'd be quite grateful!"
Kilitsi begins patrolling with her new companions, being sure to introduce herself. She thought she had done that earlier, but, like, whatever. Maybe Gentle Storm is slightly hobbled in the brain.
"Ugh, that's the worst," Kilitsi agrees. "What are you offering to pay for it back?"
Alessandria gratefully takes Gusto's drink, far from losing her head from a single tankard.
The headache from Tobin's foolishness is its own matter, however. "If you had fought a duel while in your cups would you be complaining to passers-by to help recollect your blood from the grass beneath?"
"Look, I think we've all been there. We can talk to the plant for you, maybe for a small...consideration." Higgins discretely holds out a wing.
"I've tried gold, gems, and all sorts of things, but the bush doesn't seem interested in anything I have to offer," Tobin laments. He flushes when Alessandria admonishes him. In response to Wispil's entreaty, the gnome nods. "Of course! I'll gladly pay you 75 gp if you can get my pendant back, plus hospitality should you ever visit me in my home city of Wispil."
Higgins doesn't mention the many seedy establishments of the gnome's hometown that earned the former gambler his nickname.
"Right, then. Let's see what the plant wants. Gentle Storm, can you offer to buy the pendant? We don't need to get a "refund" if the plant is willing to trade."
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Gentle storm had begun humming as he listened to the tale, then nods to Higgins.
"A good thought. -Ehem-"
He begins an undulating motion, followed by a series of sharp snapping flicks of both arms, ruffling of his fur and woven leaf tunic, and finally a gentle twist from side to side giving a chaotic and then lackadasically childish look to the communicative method.
(Plant)Good, No. Refunds. All-Sales-Final. Though I understand you cannot offer refunds, and I see now that the transaction was fairly placed and you offered up a part of yourself as trade. What would it take for us to purchase the pendant you have come to recently have in your wares?
All-Sales-Final’s branches shake, and one of them points to the enchanted caber that Thula gifted to you. ”Want,” the bush replies gruffly.
”Give. Trade,” the bush confirms. It rustles, and the gnome’s pendant emerges from within its depths.
The bush accepts the staff from you and exchanges the pendant, as promised. "All-Sales-Final," it says again.
Tobin is overjoyed to have his pendant back. The gnome thanks you profusely and gives you the promised reward of 75 gp.
***
You resume your patrol of the gala. Fortunately, no other incidents occur. At sunset, the rumbling bellow of immense wooden horns signals a great feast is ready, open to all attendees. Thick oaken tables supported by gnarled stumps sag from the tantalizing bounty of delicacies from every corner of the forest: wild mushrooms, nuts, fresh fruit, trays of dripping honeycomb, and platters piled high with steaming slabs of slow-cooked venison, rabbit, and other wild game. On either end of the amphitheater, additional tables overflow with offerings brought by foreign visitors: fine wines from Kyonin, fragrant cheeses from Taldor, and golden-shelled sweet and savory pies from Andoran. Animated trees trundle slowly back and forth across the area, dutifully replacing emptied platters and pitchers with full ones.
As the feast gets underway, Tanasha Starborne seeks you out. Tanasha wears fashionable clothing in various shades of green and blue. She keeps her well-coiffed hair and eyebrows vibrantly hued in a wide array of colors, topped off with creative applications of illusion magic. "Hey! I heard you helped out Tobin earlier today. He is a valuable member of my retinue, and I am grateful for your assistance."
Alessandria doesn't kick up a fuss, but she leaves the collection of Taldan favor to those who wish it.
"Ha!" Alessandria trots back up to the Swiftmanes. "Did you see those tosses? A shame you did not test yourselves as well. I know that surely you would have won your own glory."
Higgins seems to be doing his best to turn himself into foie gras, gobbling up goodies as fast as he can. He sits next to the disagreeable puckwudgie and agrees with his rambling inbetween big bite.
"Oh yes, you were robbed during that contest. Quite unfair! They've really got it out for you."
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Kilitsi makes her way over to Alyce Quinley. "Oh my hero-god, Alyce, your outfit is so nice. I bet you blend right into the woods." She makes some inane small chatter with the woman, curious to learn more about her.
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Sauntering over to the Laughing Prince, Gentle Storm does his best as usual and offers the leader of the Satyrs a morsel from one of the passing trays. "Why hello, good to see you and yours arrive safely again this year. You wouldn't believe the strangest thing earlier today, I saw a shrub merchant and for the life of me I couldn't determine if it was an awakened mullberry or sprites playing tricks on the party goers."
He laughed, "Of course I knew it wasn't a mullberry, but you never know what the forest has in stock. These ancient beings still have plenty to show even for ones as well traveled as you and I."