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A massive Minotaur with heavy armor and a huge great axe clops up from behind.
They pull out a gnarly looking wooden case and open it up, to reveal a fairly thick pair of spectacles.
In a paradoxidly deep yet timid voice they introduce themselves and then ramble a bit. "Mr. Gruff here. I'm a monsterologist. Pathfinder Society seemed like a good way to learn more. I have to admit I'm a little nervous about my recent promotion to field agent, I mean I didn't even know how to properly wield a sword before I joined, but Mr. Farabellus put an axe in my hands and told me I was a natural. I'm sure it'll be a nice peaceful vacation here, even us new agents get a few days off."
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Taek Sul is a samsaran male with tainted nephilim blood. His skin is a muted blue-gray, smooth in some places and fractured like ancient porcelain in others, as if his very soul strains against the vessel that contains it. One horn is whole and curved, the other cracked and jagged, mirroring the fissures spider-webbing across the left side of his face.
His eyes are strikingly mismatched: the right glows a molten gold with sharp, alert focus, while the left is pale and ghost-white, its sight turned inward toward memories of past lives. Long, moon-white hair spills down in loose strands.
His expression is calm, cold, disciplined—yet beneath it lies a tension born of divine ancestry and karmic weight.
"Taek Sul" he presents himself, "At your service"
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A gentle, somewhat aerated sound emits at a low frequency as a robed figure enters the grove, graceful movements, almost delicate, arriving him from his hiding spot amid the trees. A peer under the cloak reveals a soft metallic face, and yellow eyes alight with some amber radio glow, rivulets of that same color connecting a pair of twinned streaks that flow down his neck, and presumably, to the rest of his body.
Having studied the village from afar, twas the newcomers what spurned the automaton's decision to show himself - he proceeds to catalogue the various forms of life.
"Greetings to you. Curiosity drives Salutation. I understand both that the village stirs with Integrated Activity, and that their attitude to outsiders doesn't mark Territory. You may call me III"
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A lady arrives, her entertainer's dress at odds with the rugged wide-brimmed hat and dusty riding boots. She smiles to all of you.
"Well met strangers! let us raise a glass to these new beginnings! they have *just* accepted me as a new Pathfinder-in-training, and here's hoping our first task will be a resounding success. I'm Mellissant, but please call me Mel. My friends all do!"
She shakes everyone's hand, and proceed to order more wine.
An older halfling woman in bright clothes quickly approaches, a large golden wolfhound at her side. She places herself before the heroes with a glint in her eye and grins. “I don’t suppose you’re looking for any work, by chance?!” she asks. “If you are, I have just the task. Doesn’t pay much, but you’ll get full bellies and a place to stay, along with the joy of helping an old woman on Winter Week!” She holds up a small cobble stone with great reverence and a slightly crooked facial expression. “My name is Kupyn Baro,” says the halfling. “Me and my pup Darb need your help to make this rock into a stew that will feed our village.”
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A man that you first assume is a simple elf approaches. Upon closer inspection, you realize that his frame is too sturdy, his ears a bit too round, eyes a bit too small, arms a bit too long and his lower canines are too pronounced when he smiles.
The traditional robes and staff he carries suggest that he is a practitioner of the arcane arts, a suggestion further reinforced by his speech.
"I, for one, would delight in a bed and some rock stew," he says to Kupyn before turning to deliver a scholarly lecture to Valamar.
"In many communities, it is a tradition to create a stew where the first and core ingredient is a simple rock. This is often only symbolic as it is the small bits of other food that are added to the stew that actually make up the consumable portions. However, it is not unheard of for certain rituals and incantations as well as exotic ingredients to be added to nothing more than a pot full of water and a rock to actually generate a hearty meal for a large number of people. You see it all comes down to a certain transmutational principal..."
He will continue in this vein until he is interrupted.
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"Ah, you've been here before," Kupyn says to Groskas before he natters on for too long. Which she immediately follows up by nattering. "For the rest of you, I have a tale:
"After the town of Scallion’s Wrap lost all their crops and sheep to a roving band of wolves, the townsfolk met in the village green to figure out where they should move now that they had no food.
"Their witch, Tulyn Baro, questioned why moving was necessary.
"'What would you have us do,' the mayor asked, 'eat rocks from the Hollow Hills?'
"Some laughed at that, but Tulyn picked up a gray rock and said, 'Do you not know this little rock is magic? Why, with it I can make a stew that would feed the whole of Scallion’s Wrap through Winter Week!'
"The villagers allowed Tulyn the chance to prove her boast. Thus began Tulyn’s plan. As she poured water into her cauldron, she began to wheedle small things from various folks in the area, 'just to help the magic of the rock along.' From the farmers, she finagled carrots and celery. From the dwarf miners in the Hollow Hills, she received bags of deep-root potatoes. From the brownies in the surrounding glade, she procured five bundles of scallions. After this, Tulyn grimly left the town to see about meat for the stew, bouncing the 'magic rock' in her hand. Where she found the meat, none dared ask, but wolves never troubled Scallion’s Wrap again.
"Upon returning, Tulyn placed the rock into her cauldron
"And that is why we have rock stew every year for Winter Week!
"We have a song that we sing before eating, which I suggest you practice while you help out. Not that you would be refused, but there may be some... good-natured teasing... if you don't know it. It goes like this:
"Rock stew for me, rock stew for you!
It’s the soup that helps us in all that we do!
"If you want to make it, you need a few things,
Potatoes, carrots, celery, and
FIVE SCALLION RINGS
"Rock stew for me, rock stew for you!
It’s the dish that helps us see winter through!
"Some salt, some pepper,
a cauldron of bounty,
a few cuts of mutton
and a magic rock or three!
"Rock stew for me, rock stew for you!
Have a Happy Winter Week, let’s eat some stew!
"So that should be all, right? I think I might be forgetting something... oh, yes, I will need to tell you what I need.
"Carrots and celery from Farmer Greetle’s farm, found in the southwest part of the village.
"A bag of deep root potatoes grown by the dwarves at the foot of the Hollow Hills, a bit west of the village.
"And a bundle of scallions from the brownies who tend them in the grove just north of the village
"Any questions?"
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Groskas listens closely to the instructions, humming along with the song and nodding his head in time with the tune.
"And is the song a portion of the incantation? I once read a treatise regarding the shared psyche manifestations of energy as pseudo arcane results, yet it suggested that a singular focus such as a chant, song or other rhyme was vital to the effect," Groskas says, once more demonstrating his ability to talk with only vague goals and purposes that are unrelated to the task at hand.
"You could think of it that way," the witch answers Groskas. Then, turning to , she adds, "As far as I know, the villagers are all on good terms with each other. But the ones with the ingredients I need all have issues with me."
The group heads to Greetle Farm.
From the new paint and fine wooden carvings of the farmers’ god Erastil lining the gate, it’s evident the farmer has been doing well.
Bunwol Greetle, an elderly human, sits on the front porch with his grandchildren, shelling peas and singing about rock stew. Far from unfriendly, when Farmer Greetle sees people approaching, a smile breaks over his face. “Hail and well met, strangers! What can I do for you on this fine day?”
"Oh, you're hear for the witch," Greetle answers, his voice turning disappointed. "Yes, I've got carrots and celery for sale." He names a price you definitely can't afford.
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"new dynamic? Only new dynamic I seen is Kupyn grumblin' about Winter Week like it's a chore. How'm I suppos'd to get in the spirit if the witch don' care any more?"
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"new dynamic? Only new dynamic I seen is Kupyn grumblin' about Winter Week like it's a chore. How'm I suppos'd to get in the spirit if the witch don' care any more?"
”Well she sure cares now!”, Valamar replies. ”Maybe you misheard her? Maybe you caught her at a bad time? Besides, it’s more about the kids, isn’t it?”
He gives Mellissant a little nod.
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Groskas has remained at the back of the group, lost in thought as he contemplates a new thesis regarding the power of cultural faith in large scale arcane rituals.
But a tune has been going through his head:
"If you want to make it, you need a few things,
Potatoes, carrots, celery, and
FIVE SCALLION RINGS"
And as he bursts out with the last line he starts to pay attention.
"Yes, she's quite eager to make the soup. She even asked us, relative strangers to help her out. Seems she feared she had upset some of the suppliers of the...supplies. Apparently, a valid hypothesis."
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Off-beat "Spirit moving through you acts upon the whim of your consciousness" not understanding the function of a pep talk (or pep song) when a good idea presents itself, which, ought speak for itself (by his own reckoning) "Does not the fact of the ritual and your unique position to be the catalyst of it's occurance speak to you sufficiently?"
Carrots and celery are the primary ingredients of soup if he was not mistaken...
Greetle ponders the words of the visitors, and begins to hum the next verse of the song.
Farmer Greetle is happy that the team and Kupyn still have the spirit of Winter Week. He gives them carrots and celery and promises to attend the Winter Week feast.
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?”
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Mellissant kneels, addressing the royal fey politely. "We are humble adventurers of novice standing trying to help the village gather rock soup ingredients for their festival. There will be music and merriment! have you heard of it? one of the ingredient is grown in your majestic kingdom, Your Highness: a bundle of scallions. Would it be possible for your great people to lend help to the struggling humans so that they can achieve new heights in the realm of celebration?"
Nelia tells the group that her brownies love Darb very much and only wanted to make his golden hair look more noble, and so tied it full of braids and ribbons. When Kupyn came by to complain, they thought her amused, but then the halfling knocked down their “castle” in a huff!