Perched at the edge of civilized lands, the small town of Falcon’s Hollow has always had to rely on itself to solve its problems. Meanwhile, the uncaring lumber barons squeeze the common folk for every last copper, deaf to their pleas. Now the hacking coughs of the sick are
heard throughout town. The plague has come to Falcon’s Hollow and the town’s leaders can’t be bothered to stop it.
Though early summer the residents of Falcon's Hollow go about their business wearing winter coats as a cold wind roars down Droskar's Crag.
To the west of town a halfling and his friend say their goodbyes as their friends leave town. In the Low Market a dwarven trader finds just how hard it is for a traveling vender. Meanwhile a half-elven woman checks to see if anything of interest has made it's way down into the market. To the south a lovely andoran woman boards the Ferry heading to town. And Finally...
A loud banging finally wakes the elf from his slumber. the tall. lanky, green haired elf opens his door to find a notice nailed crudlely into it
EVICTION: PENDING PAYMENT OF RENT AND TAXES
RENT: 4 GOLD
TAXES: 2 GOLD + 1 GOLD + 4 GOLD
Payment may be rendered at the Hollow Tribunal
As the you all begin making your about town one thing is obvious, the people of Falcon's Hallow are sick and it's only getting worse. The past week numerous residents have fallen ill, each suffering from a hacking affliction. Local remedies prove as useless as prayers.
"You guys take care now, you hear. When next you lay eyes on me and Clovis here, we'll be rich. Ha ha ha!"
<Later...>
"Hey, Clovis, you sure you bathed? I think people gone sick 'cause of yer smell. Ha ha ha!"
"Nah. You blew wind at them. Not saying where from."
The deceptively angelic looking halfling punches his friend's knee and yawns.
"I'm hungry. Got any money?"
"Ouch!" Shouts Kidlat in mock pain.
"Some. But why buy when we can charm people into paying for our food."
"Charm or pay. It's all the same. I'm still hungry."
"Still hungry? When has it been that you weren't hungry?"
"I tell you: you have a stomach similar to that of a cow."
"Let's try the Sitting Duck. I hear there games of chance there."
"You gamble, I eat. That's why I win more often than you. My stomach's mightier than your dice hand."
"Yeah. Sitting Duck."
"Five stomachs would be awesome."
As the two continue their friendly bickering, the smell of freshly cooked flapjacks. But not oridinary flapjacks, the legendary cinnamon-crusted flapjacks of the Jak'a'Napes. The smell causes hunger pains in the two.
As the two stand hypnotized by the aroma, a brutish, hulking man bumps into the two, "Watch ya steps freaks"
The bump breaks the hypnotizing trance of fresh flapjacks.
After colliding with the two former-carnies, he makes his way to a dwarf peddling from his cart
"You dwarf do you have a permit to be pettlin' ur crap here?" He slaps the the maces hand against his bare hand.
The Ferry finally pulls into dock. The younf woman steps off and into the squalor of the town.
Kidlat nudges Clovis, "I hate that guy and his bullying ways. Let's teach him a lesson."
"Yeah. He's a greedy creep. And those are great flapjacks."
Calling over to the rude trampler of carnies.
"Hey! What kind of licence does he need to sell breakfasty goodness?"
"Yeah! Answer the question!"
The brute turns slightly and casts a cold gaze at the halfling, "Shut yer trap runt! This is business 'tween men not carnie-freaks"
The few locals on the street laugh at the brutes reply. They begin pointing and staring at the two.
"Hey do a trick shortstuff" a young man yells from the gathering crowd. "Come on entertain us!"
"If we are freaks, what would we call you? Ah, yeah... BULLY!!!"
"You think he needs a licence to do that?"
"Shut ya mouth, ain't even a word to describe what you are freak! Now why don' ya take that shortshit and hit da road"
Even more people gather hoping for some amusment in their gloomy day.
Kidlat takes a bow, "Yes, we are here to bring levity to your lives! But what does this man bring you?!"
<Pointing at Bully>
"I'll tell you: nothing but misery and extortion!"
"Know what? There's lots of words to describe us. Sad when someone's got no vocabulary. Oh - yeah. One of the words is "unpredictable"."
A baritone voice calls out to the crowd.
"Stove pots, stove pots. Getcher stove pots. Buy one get two free. Or is that buy two get one free? Oh well, stove pots, stove pots."
Ignoring the last words of the carnies, the brute turns back to the stovepot selling dwarf "I'm gonna ask ya again stoutboy, do ya have a permit ta be sellin' ya crap around here"
Thumpy crosses his arms and stares up defiantly.
"Hey, don't be calling my wares 'crap'. These were crafted by the finest smithies of the Five King Mountains. And no. I don't have a license. And I don't intend on getting one. Not until you apologize."
Tatsu sees the scene as she passes through the market. She spares the dwarf a sympathetic smile but hurries on to her cousin's herbal shop. She knocks on the door of the shop. "Laurel, are you there? It's Tatsu. Your father wanted me to check up on you."
Tatsu passes through and head to her cousins shop. Creeping ivy and full window boxes cover the façade of the rugged-looking, two-story shop
bearing the faded sign “Roots and Remedies.” A line of twenty-some somber townsfolk - some with pale, wheezing children, others seeming to be precipitously near tears - stretches from the open door.
The commotion between the thug, the carnies and the dwarf draw most of the sick and hacking people from the establishment. Tatsu is able to make her way in, the few people left in line give the woman a dirty look.
The smell of burnt earth and spicy incense chokes the air of the cramped, mud-tracked shop. Bunches of dried herbs hang from the
ceiling, along with dangling pots, presses, alchemical apparatuses, and glassware of more arcane purposes. Pouches of rare plants, jars of colored glass, and all manner of dried, preserved, and jellied animal parts fill high shelves and tables doing double duty as displays and workspaces. In the shop’s rear, a rail-thin woman with severe-looking
spectacles and hair pulled back tightly busies herself between an overpacked rack of herbs, a table covered in stray powders and
measuring equipment, and a pot loudly bubbling over with thick gray froth. Over the din of her work and without looking up,
the woman impatiently shouts, “And what’s your problem?”
She blinks once before realizing just who's entered the store. She gives Tatsu a weak smile, "Well just don't stand there hand me those vials over there"
---------------
Meanwhile back at the Lower Market.
"I mean yer crap dwarf. No permit, no sale. Got a problem wit dat take it up wit da tribunal." The brute flips the cart of stove pots over and to the laughter of himself and several from the crowd.
"There, now get ya crap outta here before ya have problem."
"Aww, my stove pots! You didn't have to do that, you big lout!"
Fighting back tears, the dwarf picks up his dented and dirtied merchandise.
Lia stands back and watches the ebb and flow of the market. So far nothing stands out, but one never knows.
"Huh, whats this da baby want to cry. Look all ya the big, tuff dwarf looks like he's gonna cry. Ah give me a break. How'd thought making the stoutfolk cry was this easy, or fun. I thought ya was made outta tougher stuff. Come on baby, cry. Cry like ya do to ya bearded-mama!" The brute breaks down into a full roaring laughter. Going as far picking up two of the dented pot and making crying motions with them.
The half-elf doen't notice anything of real interest, but does wind up coming catching the tail end of the commotion brewing in the center of the market.
Trying to ignore the brute, Thorin clenches his teeth and continues loading up his cart.
Ser drags himself out of bed and takes the note off his door and sighs to himself as he ruffles his hair to exaggerate the "just woke up" look. After pulling his outfit together and scrounging up some gold from his scattered belongings he heads out towards the tribunal, possibly heading through the market for something to snack on, even though he's clearly missed flapjacks for the day. He ties a cloth around his face to shield from the sickness that floats the streets.
Ser's stomach groans as he approaches the tribunal, directly across the street is Jak'a'Napes. The smell of flapjacks tunts the poor elf. In The center of the market he sees a group of hacking and coughing townsfolk gathered around. From the center the he hears harsh insults.
"I think that big oik would look a whole lot better flat out with a pot on his head."
Clovis works his way easily through the crowd to where the unfortunate dwarf is being bullied.
"This big lug bothering you? Want some help? My friend and I can be real helpful."
Fixing his eyes on the swaggering oaf, Clovis suddenly looks a lot more dangerous.
"Hey! Bully! Want to be a chicken? Kidlat's hungry."
Inimidate (1d20 9=23)
The brutes eyes bug out at the halfing threat. He turns and makes his way quickly out of the mob and toward the ealled structure of High Market.
"I... I won't forget this. A... and you be outta town by midday ya crybaby!"
There are a few words spoken amongst the ccrowd as the brute runs. But it's clear that a few of them are happy with this turn of events. Many people try to hold back laughter and wide smiles as he runs.
"Yeah! And that, folks, is how we in the entertainment trade deal with injustice. Just one of many wonders we can show you."
"Nice pots you got there. Very pot-shaped."
He helps pick them up.
The dwarf smiles gratefully. He takes the least damaged pot stove and presents it to the halfling.
"This one's for you. No, go ahead, it's yours. No telling what he would have done if you hadn't chased him away."
"This might be the best gift I've ever had." Clovis puts the pot on his head.
"I'm Clovis. That's Kidlat. You've probably heard of us - we do an act at the carnival. Did. Now we're just looking for breakfast."
In direct contrast to his earlier menace, Clovis is now playing the big-eyed cute card as hard as he can.
Clovis, now wearing his stylish new pot-hat, and Kidlat help the dwarf pick up his dirty, dented pots. They exchange pleasantries as the sick, and hacking crowd breaks up going back to their gloomy lives.
A line of or twenty people stand outside of the local herbalist. A green haired elf stands outside the tribunal wondering what all the commotion was about. He thinks to himself what's more important getting in to pay his notice or stopping to grab a stack of flapjacks. And a half-elf who after seeing the last part of the verbal sparring match finds herself kind of taken with the group of misfits.
Thumpy watches clovis put on the pot.
"Uh, um, it's not supposed to ... oh well. It looks nice on you. I'm Thumpy. Can I buy you and your friend breakfast? I can hear your stomachs growling."
"Yes to both."
Hits Kidlat - "You were right - charm worked."
"I know I am right. Now you know it too."
"That's a fine greeting, Laurel, you use it on all your prospective customers?" Tatsu smiles as she says it, to let Laurel know she is only kidding her. She also quickly moves to the vials indicated and starts helping. "Can we talk as you prepare this or do you need to concentrate? I don't know ANYTHING about this kind of stuff. Here."
Ser pulls down the cloth that's draped around his face and breathes in the smell of flapjacks before looking over the line of people. he turns to the human behind him, "hey, can you save my spot? I really need some of those flapjacks" the man seems to shrug at him and he accepts this as a yes before heading deeper into the market, looking over the group that is gathered and wearing cookwear as daywear "times are tough indeed"
Finally having gathered the last of the pots Thorin parks his cart outside of Jak'a'Napes, and takes treats his new friends to breakfast.
Inside the leaning ramshackle inn a few townsfolk sit and discuss the earlier commotion, life an everything in between. To the rear of the establishment a rotund red-faced human can be seen working the grill and and flipping cakes.
"Welcome", a young hostess says to new comers "are you looking for rooms, or here just for breakfast"
"Breakfast first." Clovis politely doffs his new headgear.
Ser greets the hostess as he moves in to the room alongside the group from the market.
"Ok so is that a table for five?" she points out two additional stragglers. A green haired elf and young half-elven woman.
"I'm sorry are you not all together"
"That's a fine greeting, Laurel, you use it on all your prospective customers?" Tatsu smiles as she says it, to let Laurel know she is only kidding her. She also quickly moves to the vials indicated and starts helping. "Can we talk as you prepare this or do you need to concentrate? I don't know ANYTHING about this kind of stuff. Here."
"Talkings fine as long as you keep handing me the right things. Check the back cabinet there and hand the bay root." She packs a small bag with some pills and send the hacking girl away.
"It's been like this for over a week. We lost one of the towns elders yesterday. Make matters worse they all come to see me. It's not my job to fix every cut or scabbed knee these daft people have." her face looks beyond tired.
"But what can I say a girl has to make living. So what brings you home Tatsu?
"NEXT!"