4e Tallow's Deep

[Nebulous]

4e Tallow’s Deep Intro

After completing Keep on the Shadowfell, instead of jumping straight into Thunderspire Labyrinth, I wanted to run an old 1e/2e adventure called Tallow’s Deep from Dungeon magazine #18, written by Steve Gilbert and Bill Slavicsek. I originally played this with my brother and a friend (and a DM-NPC named Ash) around 1989, and it has always cemented itself in our minds as a classic scenario. It introduced me to 3-D dungeon design, crafty goblinoid tactics and devious traps, all of which combined to create a truly fearsome – and mildly frustrating - scenario.

All those years ago, this adventure was run without miniatures, maps and markers, and looking back, I can hardly remember how we did it. I suppose we did have graph paper, pencils and our imaginations, which were obviously more than enough! But I wanted to update it to 4e mechanics and pacing, and now that we’re done, I can say that it adapted very well. I changed a few elements around, adding some and detracting others, but the core adventure of Tallow’s Deep remains the same, a deadly romp through a trapped goblin warren where, as the tagline says:

“In the goblin’s mine, adventurers get the shaft.”​

I hope you enjoy reading these recaps. I had a lot of fun writing them. And as always, thanks to the players for making it all happen in unpredictable ways.

Nebulous

ADVENTURE NOTES​

This mini-campaign actually kicks off with a character from Keep on the Shadowfell, Douvan Stahl the Ranger. He was an NPC in KotS that we elevated to PC status and ran in a 3-part Side Trek that paralleled the events in KotS. In part two of that Side Trek, Douvan has returned to Silverymoon to procure payment from his employer, one wily halfling businessman known as Merple the Moneylender. But not everything goes as planned when Douvan arrives. If you read the KotS storyhour then this first installment will be familiar, but it introduces some necessary characters and the rest of the campaign branches off from here. Tallow’s Deep is bookended with a completely new story that has the module sandwiched in the middle.

The 4e conversion of Tallow’s Deep took far, far longer than the original ever did, mostly due to expanded encounter format and combat. But it was no less fun, and probably even more so.

I should also note that one player, whose 4e character is Jolen, the Cleric of Tempus, was an original player in the 1989 Tallow’s Deep. He did not know he would be returning there because I never mentioned it until the session they actually arrive, which was adventure #3. His first character EVER in D&D also died in the final encounter of Tallow’s Deep, so we were very curious to see what happened to his newest incarnation…




Here is a breakdown of the games:

Prologue
Adventure #1 – Merple’s Mishap
Adventure #2 – Merple’s Mission
Adventure #3 – Tallow’s Deep
Adventure #4 – River Trap
Adventure #5 – Tunnel Traps
Adventure #6 – Shar-shazaluk’s Lair
Adventure #7 – No Escape
Adventure #8 – Owlie’s Lair
Adventure #9 – Skull Crusher
Adventure #10 – Grishog’s Gambit
Epilogue


Prologue


Douvan Stahl scratched at his prickly beard. It irked him this morning, but he wasn’t going to shave. No, in fact he had been thinking about growing it out like his father’s beard, a great bushy thing that even a dwarf would admire. But he had to get past the damn itching first.

He and Merric had just arrived in town where they had a strange encounter with the Griffon Guard. See, he and the halfling had found a strange mirror buried in the muddy graveyard of a dead dragon outside of Winterhaven, and for reasons he did not quite understand, the Griffon Guard wasn’t keen on this item entering city limits. So they took it. Regardless, Douvan wasn’t terribly worried. Merple would still pay him for the information they learned in Winterhaven, with or without the mirror.

Merric parted ways with him and Douvan continued alone, admiring the city around him. Douvan loved Silverymoon. He loved the elvish architecture of soft, curving lines and the organic transition from homes to gardens to businesses and back to gardens. It was Mirtul now and flowers were starting to bloom; rich yellowfiddles from Sembia and fragrant violet roses supposedly imported from Evermeet long ago. He stood on one of many small bridges criscrossing Silverymoon, drawing a few deep breaths of fragrant morning air. The sun had just crested the city skyline, bathing the world in brilliant shades of red and orange.

He stopped by an eatery, threw down a few coppers and grabbed a slice of bread and cheese, and munching on breakfast, he kept walking, trying to remember exactly how to reach to Merple’s place of business without getting lost…

[GM Note: This particular session was a solo adventure. The other characters will make their appearances in Adventure #2: Merple’s Mission (except for Raven the Druid, who does not show up until much later].

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #1: Merple's Mishap

PART ONE

It is another glorious dawn in Silverymoon, Jewel of the North, as the sun rises in a vermillion blaze, casting long shadows across the ground and spire-like turrets of the city. The whisper of commerce begins early, and into this rising whisper walks the ranger Douvan Stahl.

He finds himself winding through the convoluted streets of Silverymoon while trying to reach his employer, one Merple the Moneylender. Silverymoon is a unique place where the various races all live in harmony, and he enjoys his stroll down tranquil neighborhoods decorated with bright flowers and exotic trees brought from all across Faerun.

He eventually leaves the residential area and reaches Diagon Alley, an place he would not normally visit. Spellcasters of all sorts make their living here, and he passes more than one shop housing bizarre items behind the glass; various stuffed imps with lolling red eyes and urns puffing smelly colored smoke; floating baubles spinning around mannequin heads and rows of twiggy broomsticks designated as:
“ON SALE! TODAY ONLY!”

[GM Note: I was reading Harry Potter at the time I wrote this, so some of the details leaked over]

He finally reaches the unadorned door of Merple the Moneylender and raps the appropriate amount of times. A squeaky voice announces: “Enter!” The door swings open of its own accord and Douvan steps in. The place is the same as he remembers, small but cozy, a roaring iron furnace on the wall, a few shallow steps leading down to a den lined with bookshelves. Merple sits in a chair behind a desk cluttered with pens, quills and a fat ledger book. There’s a new item though- a large square cage draped by a blue cloth.

“Douvan!” he cries. “Good to see you again! How did you fare in Winterhaven? Find anything interesting?”

Douvan starts at the beginning and tells him the whole story; the trapped bridge, the flooded excavation site, the dozens of kobolds, the human helping them, the bones and the mirror and the bugbears and Valthrun and the Shadowfell and the Griffon Guard taking the mirror. Merple’s face changes during the story from extreme joy at the beginning, to glum disappointment by the end.

“They took it, eh? Sad, sad, sad news that is. Very sad to hear. It sounded like a most exquisite artifact! Worth a coin or two, I’m sure, I’m sure. I hate to say this, but it is unlikely they will return it, Douvan.”

The ranger is aware of this too, but doesn’t dwell on the news. He steps closer to the cage and is jolted when a pink tongue whips out.

“CROOOAK.” There is a huge toad inside.

“Oh, don’t mind him. That’s Toady, a rare speckled specimen from the Evermoors. Should make short work of the nasty rodents around here. He’s quite nice, actually. I’m fond of him.” Douvan takes his word for it.

As promised, Merple pays his half of the fee for finding the Tomb of Blacksoul and determining that there is nothing there left to salvage. He insists though in paying Merric in person. Merple makes a few notes in his fat ledger book, emphatically dots the entry with his pen, and closes the book.

“Well,” says Merple, “with that done, are you interested in a new job? I always have several pots brewing on the stove. For instance—”

But Merple is interrupted by heavy pounding on the door. The pattern of knocks is very specific. He presses his lips together into a thin line. “Oh my. Oh my oh my oh my. He’s early. Very early.”

Merple is flustered and stands up, wringing his hands. Douvan is confused. “Not good, no no no. Not good at all. Douvan, you must leave. Wait! No! He mustn’t see you leaving, no no no. Hide in the closet here. Wait! No! He’ll look there. Oh my oh my oh my, dear dear dear dear…” Merple pushes Douvan toward the cage. “Go in there with Toady. Don’t worry, he’s very gentle! Just be quiet and don’t say a word. Zip! Zip!” Merple makes a pinching motion across his lips.

Douvan stares at the dark cage with the big toad inside. He doesn’t like the sound of this, but Merple is clearly upset. “Are you sure, Merp—”

“Yes! Yes! Just go!” he hisses. “And quietly!” To the door he shouts: “Coming! Just a wee moment!”

Douvan is bustled into the cage with the wet, spotted amphibian, and a tongue lashes out to lick his arm. Or taste him, he isn’t sure which. There is not much room and Douvan maneuvers to the back, hunching down for as much cover as possible and peeking out through the dark fabric draped over the cage. Merple has returned to his chair, pressing down the lapels of his coat, and then announces: “Ah…enter!”

The front door creaks open. A shaft of light spills down the steps, a shadow elongated upon the threshold. From his position, Douvan cannot see who it is. Footsteps slowly click into the room, and then the door closes.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #1: Merple's Mishap

PART TWO

“Balthazar!” says Merple with forced sincerity. “A pleasure to see you so soon, a pleasure indeed. How…ahem…how can I help you today?”

A man says, “Help me, Merple? I believe you have helped me enough already.” The voice drips with sarcasm. Douvan shifts for a better angle, peeking out into the room. A man clad in black robes with red trim and a pointed hat has stopped in front of Merple’s desk. Draped around his neck is a hissing maroon pseudodragon, its yellow eyes glaring all directions.

Douvan’s stomach lurches. This man is obviously a wizard with his familiar, and he does not look happy.

“What seems to be the problem, Balthazar?” asks Merple. “Perhaps we can work out—”

“The problem, my squat Halfling, has to do with a bag of powdered unicorn hoof you sold me. The PROBLEM, my dear, conniving, treacherous little half-man, is that you sold me powdered mule’s hoof instead!”

The pseudodragon spits and hisses, flapping its wings. Merple pales. “It’s not true!” he wails, his voice squeakier than ever. “It’s not true, Balthazar! I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

“It’s your job to know,” growls the wizard, producing a long, thin maple wand from the depths of his robe. The pseudodragon leaps from his shoulder and flaps to the floor, sniffing. “Do you think that Balthazar of the Potion Emporium wouldn’t notice that kind of trick in my magical workings? Do you even comprehend the sort of unwanted side effects that arise from daring to ADD a mule’s foot? DO YOU? Or course not!” Merple falls to his knees, begging and pleading.

Douvan pushes the fat toad aside, wondering what in the Nine Hells he has gotten himself into. Toady pushes back some, feeling equally cramped in the cage. Douvan is knocked into a latch he had not seen previously. There seems to be a secondary door on the back of the cage that is flush to the stone wall. He peeks out the curtain again. The pseudodragon is closer, sniffing and snarling.

“It was an honest mistake!” shrieks Merple. “Please believe me, Balthazar! It won’t happen again, I swear!”

“Oh, I know it won’t,” the wizard says airily. “Not for the next day at least. After that, I expect you to be on your best behavior, Merple.”

The tip of the wand begins to glow blue. Merple’s face is bathed in its light. “What are you going to do?” he whispers in abject terror.

The wizard’s smile is not pleasant. “Teach you a lesson.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes. I DO.”

A thin beam of light streaks out, enveloping Merple and followed by a puff of acrid smoke. He screams once, but when the smoke clears Merple is no longer there, replaced by a large squat frog, a pair of oversized glasses dangling awkwardly from its face.

Merple-Frog croaks and hops away, while Balthazar cannot help but to laugh. He puts the wand away, circles around to the ledger book and begins flipping through it, still chuckling. Douvan is appalled, and not more than a little terrified! He shrinks back into the cage, but the pseudodragon familiar is curious about Toady and the shadow lurking behind it. It has moved closer than ever, ruffling its wings and squawking a warning to its master.

Balthazar looks up from the ledger. “What is it? Oh my, yes. Look, Merple! You have a friend here! One of the few you’ll probably ever make. Wretch.”

Balthazar walks closer to the draped cage. His eyes narrow. “Is someone…in there?”

Icy cold fear fills Douvan’s gut. He nearly springs out of the cage, using the toad as a shield and bolting for the door, but doubts his chances. The wizard’s wand is out again. Douvan brushes the backdoor latch, and this time in the subsequent glow from the wand he sees the outline of a trapdoor in the wall outside the cage. The cage is pressed flush against it. Douvan does not waste another second. He pushes the toad out of the way, jerks the small cage door open, and presses on the stone outline. There is a quiet click as a secret panel opens.

“WHO IS THERE?” bellows the magician. “SHOOOOOOOW YOURSELF!”

The front door of the cage magically jerks open and Toady wriggles out, just about the same time as Douvan has squeezed himself into a passage obviously made to accommodate a halfling and not a human. He tries to close the secret door just as the red pseudodragon darts into the cage. Douvan succeeds, and then shuffles on his elbows through a narrow dank tunnel, but soon bumps his head on a stone wall. Beneath his fingers he feels a wooden trapdoor with a metal ring. He pulls up, feels space yawning beneath him and an unpleasant stink. He doesn’t have time to ponder the destination. The secret passage is opening behind him. His fingers scramble for a dilapidated wooden ladder, and then Douvan is moving down, down, down into darkness, his boots scuffing on wood and stone, his heart hammering in his chest. Blue light fills the tunnel above him and he hears the throaty rasp of the pseudodragon. He hears running water and the strong smell of a sewer, and soon Douvan’s feet touch on a cold stone floor. Far above him the blue light winks out, and then he hears doors slamming.

He’s trapped down here. Wherever “here” is. He can’t see a thing in the pitch blackness.

He’s not terribly worried yet. He did not descend far; he’s surely in the upper level of Silverymoon’s sewer system, which is well maintained by sweepers and ratters. His keen directional sense gives him an idea of which way to go, and he knows that the aqueducts empty to the east. Plus, he has several sunrods that will light the way if all else fails, but he doesn’t want to use them quite yet. Too much light. Feeling along the wet, slick walls, Douvan eventually finds a torch sconce and half a torch. He lights it with tindertwigs and looks around him in the wan illumination. He’s on the cusp of a sluggish, stinking channel, bobbing with all sorts of glistening, unsavory things.

Douvan starts walking toward what he hopes is an exit.

The debacle upstairs worries him though. Merple has never wronged Douvan, not that he’s aware, and his punishment at the hands of the mage seems unduly cruel. Transmogrification or Polymorph, whatever they call it, also seems illegal. Douvan starts to wonder if there is a way to blackmail the wizard, and then he has second thoughts about that as well. He’ll need to speak with Merric first. One must never be careless with a wizard.

Half an hour later Douvan stops cold when he hears a new sound over the swish of dirty water – a rhythmic flapping like a wet leather sheet, and it is moving closer. He pulls his sword and waits, unable to see anything down the dingy tunnel more than twenty feet or so, listening to something draw nearer, and nearer, and nearer, and THEN—

Something bulbous, pink and veined explodes around a corner at high speed! It careens off a wall and whips past him, darkness swallowing it within seconds, coming and going so fast that Douvan barely caught a glimpse. His heart rate finally starts to slow, and he thinks back on what he knows about creatures in the sewer system. It must have been a sludge bat, a relatively harmless if disgusting denizen of the region.

He continues, eventually reaching a junction blocked by slick green slime dripping from the ceiling. He can possibly leap to the far side but would rather not risk it. Untold diseases lurk in the water. Douvan hunches down and waits, anticipating some flotsam and jetsam to float by eventually, maybe something that will support his weight so he can vault across.

He hasn’t been waiting long when he hears voices in the distance.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #1: Merple's Mishap

PART THREE

Douvan slowly grinds out his torch and retreats a short ways, watching torchlight approach from a tunnel across the watery channel.

“I’m hungry,” a voice rasps. “Where’d that sludge bat go?”

“I dunno,” says another. “Shut up.”

Douvan also hears rats squeaking, and a few moments later several unsavory characters enter his sight. They’re ratmen, almost surely the lycanthrope kind, with elongated noses and twitching whiskers. They’re armed with shortswords, and the foremost wererat carries a torch. A few filthy rats scurry around their feet.

Douvan presses his back against the wall, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. They’re heading his way, and their vision is much, much keener than his own. This is also their element, and he’s not sure if he can take on two of them at once. Separately perhaps, yes, but both? They’re filthy, cruel little monsters, and he is sorry that he encountered them. Worse, as lycanthropes, he lacks a silver weapon to make the wererats truly howl in pain. This won’t be easy.

The wererats push open a moldy door and root around inside, then exit again and stand at the lip of the channel. “We’ll jump,” one of them says. “Stand back, need room.”

Douvan sees his chance. He unslings his bow, peeking around the corner from cover. The ratman has backed up, testing his footing, and then sprints forward, gaining momentum to leap over the gap. Douvan readies to fire just as the wererat is about to leave his platform. The arrow catches him square in the chest. It shrieks in midair, floundering, hits the corner of the far walkway and flops into the water. It rises, sputtering and choking and squealing as the current carries it down the tunnel.

“Meazel! HELP!”

The other wererat follows, extending a hand to pull him out. Smiling, Douvan shoulders his bow and backtracks until he finds a hidden storage room. Inside he finds some old mops, one of which is sturdy enough to use as a pole. Praying for the luck of Tymora, he prods the bottom of the stinking channel, and then hurls himself across. He thuds to the other side, safe and sound, and keeps walking. He soon finds a new door, but it is swollen in the frame. He rams a shoulder into it, bounces off, and then tries a better plan.

Skullthumper.

He takes the maul out and starts hitting the door. Cracks appear, spreading wider and wider, and soon he has battered the door down. He steps inside a disgusting room filled with rotting bags of grain covered with tiny black insects. There is a cracked barrel that he rolls in front of the door, and then he takes some time to reapply the pitch to his torch. There is only enough fuel left for a few minutes, but he still has the sunrods. Unfortunately, the sunrods will draw the attention of anything nearby long before Douvan sees it approaching.

He finds a second door, but there is only wrecked equipment beyond it. Then he sees the ladder.

The same sort of ladder that led him down here to begin with. He has just started climbing up rungs when he hears footsteps approaching! Outside the ravaged door he sees the wobble of torchlight. Fearing that is the wererats again, he climbs the ladder double haste, pushes through a lid at the top and finds himself in a narrow drainage tunnel flooded by a beautiful thing—

SUNLIGHT!

There is an iron grill above his head, but once he laces his fingers through it Douvan finds that the grill is firmly secured. He hears wagons outside rolling across flagstone streets and the neigh of horses. He sees legs walking by, so he’s probably standing in a drainage tunnel on a main thoroughfare.

“Hey! Someone help me!” he calls out. He’s ignored for the most part, and then he hears sounds from below. At least one person has entered the room beneath him.

“Is anybody there? I need out of here! Help!”

Finally, a pair of immaculate shoes stops beside the grate. The face is unseen because of the dazzling corona of the sun behind the man’s head.

“What are you doing in the drain?” asks the man. Douvan is VERY disappointed to find that the man’s voice is familiar.

“Ah…please…ah…please help me out,” he says lamely.

The other man is quiet for a moment, and then with an exasperated huff, mutters, “Very well. Stand back.” He pulls forth a maple wand, taps the iron grid, it shudders violently, and then peels back like the skin of a soft fruit. Thanking the gods for his fortune (and wondering at the incredible irony of his benefactor being someone he does not want to see again), makes sure his assumption is correct.

It is. His savior is none other than Balthazar of the Potion Emporium, with a rather mean-looking pseudodragon curled about his shoulders like a scaly cat. Up close Douvan sees his bushy black eyebrows, and the glint of intelligent green eyes.

“Can you help me up?” asks Douvan.

Rolling his eyes, the mage in the pointed hat starts to oblige, but pulls back. “By the gods, man, you reek! No! I won’t help.”

Douvan pulls himself out and stands up, turns around calmly, and fires an arrow down the shaft. He hears a shriek.

“Do…I know you,” asks the wizard slowly.

Douvan shakes his head. “No. No, I don’t believe you do.”

The cage with Toady had been very dark, and Douvan scampered from sight before they had a good look. But the pseudodragon looks suspicious…and so does his master.

Nevertheless, Douvan thanks them again and then jogs into the crowded streets, putting as much distance as he can between them, and tries to remember how to get to the Green Tankard to tell Merric the story. He needs a beer after all of that.

And a bath.


And there we stopped. That finishes the crossover adventure from KotS, from here on out it is new material.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #2: Merple’s Mission


PART ONE

A full week has passed since Douvan’s incident with Balthazar of the Potion Emporium. He hasn’t seen the wizard since and was not going to worry about it, that is, until the morning he and Merric Littlefoot receive a message at the Green Dragon Inn. It’s from Merple himself, and he wants to speak with them immediately at his shop on Diagon Alley.

Merric hasn’t been paid yet for his last mission to Winterhaven where he and Douvan dug up a magic mirror from the grave of a dead dragon. But Merric knows happened to Merple…he was turned into a frog by a spiteful wizard, and for all Douvan knew, Merple was still in that state. Or worse.

They trudge through town and pound on the door to Merple’s shop, answered at once by “Yes! Yes, come in!” The door swings open of its own volition as it always does, and they are treated again to the smoky dark interior of Merp the Moneylender’s abode.

The squat Halfling is seated behind his desk, but his face is an unusual greenish pallor. He is constantly dabbing himself with a handkerchief and sweating profusely.

“Ah, Merric, Douvan, good to see you, good to see you. Have a seat, have a seat.”

Merple explains quickly why he has asked them here. It is about Balthazar, and Merple makes it quite clear that he wants something personal now…revenge. Balthazar is a menace the Halfling explains, full of himself and his magic and thinks he’s above retribution. Well, that’s just not true, no, no, no, and Merple wants to put that bastard in his place once and for all!

“I’ve been eating flies for days!” the Halfling whispers harshly, his watery eyes following a small buzzing insect even now. He licks his lips, and then shudders, revolted.

Merple’s plan is simple. Trusted sources have told him that Balthazar travels once a month south to Everlund and returns with sacks of gold. How and why no one knows, but Merple is sure beyond a shred of doubt that it is an illegal venture, he can feel it in his bones. One unscrupulous businessman knows another, and Merple thinks that the wizard has his fingers in dirty business.

Now, Balthazar is too powerful to confront directly, but if the heroes were to follow him, acting as mercenaries on the caravan guard, and poke around where Balthazar goes, they might dig up information. Bring this information back to Merple so he can find a way to exploit Balthazar, compromise him, and bring him down by subtle, conniving, methods.

The mission sounds good to the ranger and rogue, and Merple tells them that he has hired two others as well, in case they need more eyes and ears in Everlund. Jolen is a trustworthy cleric of Tempus, and his female companion Nari-lana is a genasi swordmage. They can find them at sunset at the Green Tankard Inn to discuss their mission in private. The merchant caravan will leave South Gate the following morning, and Balthazar will be on it.

“Say nothing to him!” the Halfling insists. “Do not mention me, not even if asked directly. You were hired by the Merchant’s Guild, and leave it at that.”

A price for their services is agreed upon and they shake on it. Douvan and Merric leave and return to the Green Tankard Inn to meet their accomplices at sundown. As expected, the cleric of Tempus and the genasi arrive through the front doors later that evening. The priest is a tall, imposing man, clad in stout metal armor proudly bearing the insigna of Tempus, the god of war. The genasi woman, a rare species not often seen, and one who invokes stares from the commonfolk, stands at his side, a broadsword strapped to her back, her head bald and brown and riddled with small cracks of amber light. Her eyes are bright and pupiless. The group becomes acquainted over dinner and leave with the agreement to meet again the next morning at South Gate.

Dawn arrives cold, blue and invigorating, and the caravan is quickly assembled. There are three wagons drawn by horses and mules, a driver for each, and about ten other travelers and guards accompanying the troupe. Balthazar of the Potion Emporium arrives soon afterward, a red pseudodragon draped around his neck like a scaly scarf.

Douvan wonders if the mage will recognize him, so Douvan keeps his distance, pulls his helm down low and avoids eye contact. If anything though, it is the pseudodragon’s sense of smell that will place him at the scene of Merple’s “mishap”.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #2: Merple's Mission

PART TWO

The caravan is soon rumbling down the road, and the heroes meet another boisterous traveler on this journey, a blue-skinned genasi with a penchant for loud conversation.

“GREETINGS!” the big man booms, striding beside them. “I am Ghale Stormbrow. Well met!” He turns his face in profile so they can get a good look at his features. Yes, he’s a boastful man. Handsome though. He talks with them for a short bit, mostly about himself, and then returns to the front of the caravan to ensure that no hostiles approach on his watch. As if they would dare!

Balthazar is riding in the foremost wagon with the driver, and although the rest of the group stays with the third and final wagon, Douvan notices later in the day that the little pseudodragon is staring intently at him.

Merric makes sure no one is watching and ducks through the flaps of the middle wagon. It smells of pungent spices, and a quick search reveals crates with dozens and dozens of various colored bottles and vials. They’re all carefully labeled, but he doesn’t spend too much time in here.

They do not pass any other travelers, and by that evening they reach the designated campground that is halfway between Silverymoon and Everlund. The wagons are drawn in close, campfires are stoked, and the hunters scrounge for food to roast over the open flame. Balthazar has spoken to no one all day and continues this trend, reading a book by the light of a candle flame on his finger.

Merric the Halfling gets bored and starts rooting around in another wagon, finding it well stocked with barrels of fine ale, mead and wine from Silverymoon. He hops out and decides to entertain himself (and others) with a short acrobatic performance, doing backflips and somersaults around the campfire to the amusement of Ghale Stormbrow who heartily claps.

“AH! Our little friend is talented! Here’s a copper! Come everyone, share your coppers with this small man, he is wonderful! Very fleet of foot. Aha!”

Merric picks up the meager coins and feigns gratitude. Nari-lana is appalled at the genasi’s stinginess and turns her head in disgust.

The night is otherwise eventless and the caravan continues in the morning on the last leg of the journey. This leg, however, is not as smooth as the previous one.

Around midday they’re on a winding trail through hilly country. A slope to the east rolls down a rocky hill. To the west lies a tree-lined bluff of conifers and birch. The wagons are skirting the narrow road between low ground and high ground. Douvan Stahl is casually looking up at the clear sky, watching the cloud formations float by, when he sees a tree on the bluff above them sway in a breeze that does not exist.

This, he thinks, would make an excellent spot for an ambush. He tells the others. They all squint up but see nothing, so Douvan tells the blue-skinned genasi, Ghale Stormbrow.

“Ah, of course you need my help, friend. Fear not. Stand back. I shall take a closer look for you.”

Gusting wind suddenly lifts the genasi off his feet and gently drops him on the bluff.

Almost instantly a harsh, grating voice bellows out:

“CRUUUUUUSH THEMMM!”

A log flies toward the caravan and impacts two mercenaries, smashing them into a red mist and flinging their bodies down the hill. Chaos ensues. The horses begin bucking, shouts fill the air, terrified drivers try to control the beasts, and steel rings from scabbards as the heroes prepare to defend themselves from unknown assailants.

“BATTLE IS UPON US!” Ghale shouts.

Douvan and the cleric Jolan clamber atop a wagon roof to get clear line of sight over the bluff. Three hulking ogres have appeared from a clump of birch trees, clubs in their hand and holding chains connected to three emaciated bugbears that don’t look happy to be here. But worse, the trees beyond them are swaying as something even bigger is pushing through.

The genasi swordmage Nari-lana clambers up the bluff and pulls out her broadsword, ready to engage the enemy. On the third wagon, Merric the thief deftly leaps to the roof and then jumps to the rise. Three half-elf archers clamber to the top of the wagon after him and notch their arrows.

Meanwhile, Balthazar of the Potion Emporium has risen from his seat on the wagon, apparently unpleased with this unscheduled stop. His pseudo-dragon takes to the air, flapping and hissing. Balthazar grabs his belt, reaches into a purple pouch, and with a vigorous motion, pulls forth a…

…rabbit.

“Godsdammit!” he shouts. “Always a rabbit! Always!”

But the others hardly notice. They have their own problems.

Douvan notches arrows and starts firing at the ogres, but he feels the chill of fear when the largest trees are knocked over and a massive Hill Giant enters the fray, a tree trunk lifted over its head. “ME SMASH YOU!” it bellows, and hurls the tree at Ghale Stormbrow who is hovering twenty feet off the ground. The trunk misses and rolls down the slope, and smiling, the genasi retaliates with a crackling bolt of lightning from the tip of his longsword.

The ogres are screaming at their bugbear allies and tugging the chains. “Get in der and fight! What wrong wid you? Why not you fight?” A bugbear is pushed Nari’s direction, shambles toward her, arms outstretched, and then veers off the last moment, rushing past and leaps off the bluff to the road below, dragging the chain behind it. The other bugbear likewise avoids combat and shambles awkwardly down the slope to where two cowering travelers launch a few frightened arrows at it.

Merric is fast and deadly, delivering viscous cuts to the ogre closest to him before diving out of range. The monster is knocked off balance, stumbling uncertainly at the edge of the bluff and trying to swat the little Halfling who has rolled between his legs.

“Stay still, you!”

“Nope.”

Jolan, cleric of Tempus, calls upon the might of his warrior god, and his prayers are answered. Divine light sears an ogre, and Merric uses the opportunity to sink his dagger deep into its back. Jolen instills uncontrollable fear in yet another ogre and it flees the battle scene, only to return shortly.

“What me thinking? Why me run like dat? Me stoopid.”

Douvan Stahl continues firing arrow after arrow, hampering the enemy as best he can. Between him and the warriors standing atop the last wagon, the two closest ogres have been thoroughly perforated, although they’re still standing strong and fighting to the death.

The giant is being distracted by Balthazar and Ghale Stormbrow. Eldritch purple lightning strikes the giant, and from nowhere a spectral panther manifests, leaping to the back of another ogre and ripping into its shoulder with shadowy teeth that are all too dangerous.

An ogre is finally felled, drilled down by arrow, blade and spell, and it collapses in a bloody heap. Attacks concentrate on the other ogres, and Merric lands a devastating strike to the thing’s groin as he dives between its legs and stabs up. Blood jets between the ogre’s fingers as it holds its crotch, and then Douvan finishes it off with a Twin Strike, planting an arrow in each beady eye.

It is ultimately Balthazar who turns the tide of the battle with a flashy show of magic. The hill giant would have been far too deadly an opponent to face on their own without the wizard’s assistance. Upon twirling his fingers in an arcane pattern, a burst of multi-colored prismatic energy springs toward the last ogre and the hill giant, lashing out at them in a miasma of scintillating power.

[GM Note: I told everyone it was a 15th level Prismatic Spray, so yes, they know that Balthazar is at least a 15th level spellcaster].

Several of the travelers have been cowering, firing their arrows intermittently, and the grizzled old soldier in Jolen rears his head. He was a commander and leader of men in the past, and it burns in his soul even now. Stomping toward the guards, he plants a hand on their shoulders and stares at them with piercing grey eyes.

“You! Are you cowards? Do you want your families to remember you dying this day, as whimpering children hiding behind the mules! Aim those bows at the ogres! Fight like, men, dammit. FIGHT!”

The two guys glance at each other, and then nod vigorously, invigorated by Jolen’s speech and encouraged to face their fear head on! “Yer right, sir! Yer right! What are we waiting for?” They follow Jolen up the slope, aiming for their enemies even though their feeble shots miss by a mile. But Jolen’s mission is accomplished, for he instilled the vigor of battle lust in his allies, even the weakest of them.

[GM Note: That was great. They might even follow you around as henchmen, Jolen!].

The last ogre is finally dropped by a barrage of arrow fire from the guys who CAN hit, and that leaves only the injured hill giant whose logs have inflicted minimal damage to Ghale Stormbrow, who dodged nearly all of them like a leaf in the wind. But the giant is staggering from another spell cast by Balthazar, and loops of flame ring its head, blinding the giant. It decides to flee the battle while it can, and stumbles away, but Merric and the others won’t let the final enemy escape.

Merric slashes the hill giant across the kneecap, drawing a splash of blood, and then runs forward in another daring acrobatic somersault to land on a rock. The monster stumbles, clumsily swinging a tree trunk at the halfling, and just barely manages to clip his foot! But the blow is insufficient to severely harm Merric, and the blow just spins him into an extra rotation as he lands on the bounder beside the wounded and whimpering hill giant.

“BOW BEFORE MERRIC!” the halfing demands, pointing at the giant with his dagger as if it were a king’s scepter.

[GM Note: This was by far the funniest part of the adventure and had us all rolling, but it might not translate well here just by reading it; had to be there].

A couple of dice rolls later, and fear fills the giant’s eyes, flitting from the halfing to the approaching wizard to the flying genasi, to the ranger and to the swordmage…and its fat lips begin to tremble.

“MERCY!” it bellows. “Not kill me! AGH!”

Merric smiles ear-to-ear as the hill giant grovels at his feet, and Merric raises his arms in victory.

Balthazar walks up beside the halfing, an expression of utter bewilderment on his face. “You must be ******* joking,” the wizard snarls. It was Balthazar who crushed the giant, not the halfling, but Merric enjoys taking credit anyway. Balthazar looks disgusted.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #2: Merple's Mission

PART THREE

The hill giant pulls its knees to its chest, trembling as it is surrounded by the survivors of the ambush. Clearly, this raiding party picked the wrong caravan to mess with. The giant is questioned, and it answers as best it can in thick, broken Common, trying not to meet the eyes of its captors lest they destroy him. The group demands to know where the giant’s treasure is, but it says they don’t really have any yet. Their caravan was the first to be ambushed, and the party sees piles of logs and boulders stockpiled for just such an attack. The group asks about the ogres, and the hill giant says they just agreed to work together.

As for the strange-acting bugbears that wouldn’t attack, the hill giant just says they’re stoopid…the pot calling the kettle black, and the adventurers don't think much more about it.

[In fact though, there is significance to their behavior...]

But then the archers on the back of the last wagon are shouting for assistance, and Douvan runs over to investigate. They point to the flap at the back of the wagon, and peeking in, Douvan sees one of the bugbears cramming foodstuffs into its mouth! It sees Douvan, slows down chewing, but doesn’t stop, reaching carefully for another hardened biscuit. There is still a chain and collar around its neck.

“Get out of there,” the ranger says.

The bugbear complies, easing out of the wagon, and then quickly shambles down the road as fast as it can, spilling crumbs from its mouth as it keeps eating.

“Hey! Stop or I’ll put an arrow in your back!” Douvan shouts, raising his bow. The bugbear does not stop though, and the last second that he can fire before the monster is out of sight, Douvan lowers the weapon. The bugbear flees into the woods.

Balthazar is in a hurry to get the caravan moving again, snarling at the drivers to calm the mounts and to clear the debris off the road. “I have business in Everlund! Hurry up! Time is wasting!”

But the PCs want to find the hill giant’s lair and scavenge it for more treasure, despite the giant saying it doesn’t have any. They ask the giant how far it is, but it doesn’t know. They ask how many giants steps does it takes the walk there, and the giant counts on his fingers.

“One…two…three….more dan three.”

Balthazar is FURIOUS at more delays, but they convince him that it will take time to bury the dead and to clear the road. Jolen volunteers to bury the two mercenaries under some rocks and say a prayer to Tempus over them, guiding their brave souls to the afterlife. The other PCs follow the trail of shattered trunks and smashed bushes about a mile up into hilly terrain, eventually finding a shallow cave and a large bed of flea-infested animal skins stitched together into a crude blanket. Here, they do find a large locked trunk, but inside is just a finely crafted outfit of noble’s attire that might fetch a fair price in the right market.

When they return they ask the giant about the box and the clothes, and where it got them, but the giant just says it forgot. Indeed, the box had not been broken and was locked. But now they have the problem of the subdued giant sitting on the ground.

“Kill it,” says Douvan. “It will just ambush someone else. Won’t you?”

“NOO!” the giant moans, shaking its head, but they don’t really believe the thing. Even if it was truthful, it’s dumb enough to forget its promise. The giants are notoriously evil and stupid.

Merric gives it an ultimatum, which the giant readily accepts: pick up your club and fight honorably to the death—or strip naked and run from here like a coward.

The hill giant is naked in a heartbeat (everyone turns their heads, groaning in disgust), tugging down its raggedy trousers and then trundling up the hillside, its bare white buttocks wagging goodbye to the heroes. Whether or not they’ll see this particular hill giant troubling wayfarers again remains to be seen. Hopefully not naked.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully, and by evening they have arrived at Everlund, a walled fort city of some ten thousand occupants. People mill about the streets, and the smells of commerce and hot food wafts over the party members.

“Last stop,” says Ghale Stormbrow, crossing his hefty arms. “You fought admirably today. It was a pleasure to battle at your side, and I hope you learned from my techniques. I’m sure you did. Until we meet again!”

Balthazar disembarks without a word to anyone, and the group decides they’ll need to split up. Merric decides to tail the wizard, and Douvan will follow Merric to watch his back. Jolen the cleric knows that there is a shrine to Tempus in Everlund, although not a full temple or church. They agree to meet at the shrine later. The cleric’s plan is to target a tavern or other place of gossip in a more seedy part of town, and since Everlund is largely a trading post full of travelers and adventurers, seedy parts of town abound.

Jolen takes his two henchmen to the Stag Horn Tavern where they discuss what happened on the road with anyone who will listen. “Drinks on me, friends, I’ve a tale to tell! We were just ambushed on the road today by ogres and a giant, and you’ve not seen magic like our wizard had! Balthazar was his name. Do you know of him? He must be famous…” The cleric is able to draw a crowd and slowly pick them for information, although it ultimately turns up very little.

He decides to stop by a local magic shop, the Witch’s Crook, where an ugly hook-nosed hag nods to him as he enters. “Help ye, love?” Jolen knows about the problem that Balthazar had with Merple the Moneylender, something about how Merple cheated the mage out of a spell component, something called…powered unicorn hoof? Or was it horn? He’s not sure now. Jolen inspects the wall of jars and vials and bags, finding numerous tidbits for rituals that could help his own magical endeavors, and finally comes across a small amount of powder labeled as Unicorn Horn.

“Why would someone need this?” he asks the crone.

“Oh, that, hmm, yes.” She nods, grinning in a non-pleasant way. “For necromancy it is. Or healing in the right hands. A unicorn does not give its horn up lightly. Someone killed it for that yes, hmm. Not me, love! I just sell it.”

Jolen finds that interesting.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #2: Merple's Mission

PART FOUR

Meanwhile, Nari-lana the genasi swordmage inquires around town if anyone knows of a wizard named Balthazar, and in wider brush strokes, tries to learn the current gossip. She spends two hours asking questions and listening carefully to answers, and she unearths several interesting tidbits:

1) No, no one is familiar with a wizard named Balthazar.
2) There is a magnificent feast beginning tomorrow, BurgerFest! Named after the Mayor, Horace Burger. It lasts for three days and features scrumptious food from all around the Realms, and the most wonderful little things called “burgers.” Many people would readily pay a gold piece for a full burger meal and good beer.
3) There used to be a terrible bugbear problem in the region, but in the past few months Mayor Burger has managed to fix it up. With diplomacy, somehow.
4) Mayor Burger is a connoisseur of fine food and wine, and in fact, has dedicated half of his estate in Everlund to a 5-Coin restaurant, Burger’s Palace.
5) The standing army of Everlund is down by at least half from an original 2000 troops. Many weren’t being paid enough and migrated north to Silverymoon.


Back to Merric and Douvan:

Balthazar has bolted through town, glancing behind him occasionally and using his pseudodragon as an extra pair of eyes, but Merric keeps to the shadows. Evening has arrived and before long the town will be draped in darkness. The wizard eventually steps inside a public Bath House: The Steamy Towel. Merric swipes a disguise off a merchant’s clothing rack (making appropriate rolls and not getting caught) and saunters into the bathhouse after the mage.

Douvan sees Merric enter and the ranger does a sweep of the exterior, noting that there is no back door, although a second level does feature numerous windows. Douvan Stahl plants himself outside, inconspicuously watching anyone who enters or leaves.

Merric makes a thorough sweep of the building, pushing through hot steamy rooms and seeing more naked old men than he would care too, but he ultimately finds no Balthazar. Discouraged, he finally leaves.

“I lost him,” he tells Douvan. And the ranger didn’t see the wizard leave either.

Discouraged, they have no idea what to do now.

They decide to head back to the Silver Gate entrance where the caravans were originally dispatched. They’re all gone now, but Merric and Douvan ask where they might have gone. It turns out that one of the wagons did belong to Balthazar, at least some of the contents, but it wasn’t the wagon he was sitting on. Shortly after the wagon arrived a heavily-scarred human arrived to pick it up and drove it out of the Mountain Gate to the north.

It’s the only clue they have, so Merric and Douvan head to the Mountain Gate and walk briskly up the road, wondering how far of a lead this scarred man has with Balthazar’s wagon. Night has fallen by now so the Halfling lights an everburning torch, and they continue following the wheel ruts in the road.

But half an hour later someone speaks to them from the dark woods:

“YOU TWO! Stop where you are. Lay down your weapons and we’ll let you live.”

Another voice on the opposite side of the road says, “Ayup. He’s right. I’d do it.”

Merric and Douvan freeze. They can’t see anything beyond the meager glow of the torch. It is dark out tonight with no moon, but Merric thinks fast and plunges the torch into his shirt, shutting off its light.

“Damn!” someone snarls.

They hear twigs snapping and bow strings creaking, but there is no line of sight on either side of the combatants. Merric stealthfully moves to the treeline and draws his dagger. Douvan tries to creep ahead in slow quiet steps, but now he can’t see his comrade at all. They heard two voices but there might be more, and they could easily be aiming bows at them right now, waiting for the chance to fire.

Merric finally pulls the torch out quickly, just to give himself some bearings, and an arrow immediately shoots out at him. It misses, but someone else fires at Douvan, piercing his arm. The ranger dives into the woods, trying to pinpoint the source of the attack. Merric follows him, and seconds later they’ve both converged on a dour dwarf and a masked human!

Merric wastes no time attacking the dwarf, exchanging a few heated blows until Douvan backs him up. Within seconds the dwarf is down and the masked human runs for his life. Douvan grabs a fallen torch and sprints after him, ultimately planting an arrow in his back and the brigand falls. They find little on the bodies except some gold, and from the sounds in the woods, there are other brigands retreating from the fight.

Sheathing their weapons, the ranger and rogue continue following the wagon tracks.

A while later the trail diverges again, and Douvan surmises that their quarry bore east along a side trail. They head that direction, and eventually come upon a railed wooden fence, and then a gate bearing a sign: BLACKJACK’S PIG FARM.

Oh, yes, it’s a pig farm indeed; and they smelled it long before they saw it. In the distance over an expanse of black fields they see tiny lights winking inside a large squat building. [Although this picture is a daytime picture, it is the layout of the farm if they could fully see it]:

Merric and Douvan can’t really see anything other than the distant lights at the farmhouse. Eschewing the road route, they clamber over the fence and enter the pig pens. Squealing, grunting pigs are dismayed at their presence, and they make a lot of racket as the two adventures push through their ranks. Douvan Stahl smears his entire body in pig (I assume he did this to mask his scent in case the pseduodragon was around?) and Merric takes a few steps back. Nasty. The ranger is going to catch filth-fever!

But the pigs have disturbed the dogs. Now that they’re closer, they see at least six dogs in front of the house. Some are chained, some not, but all are barking. They’re big dogs too, rottweiller mixes or maybe wolfhounds. Douvan and Merric climb out of the pens and circle around in a wide berth to the back of the house where it’s dark. They see a shed off to the side and approach it, but once closer, Douvan sees a dog lying on the stoop. He tries to approach and calm it with Animal Training, but the dog is a vicious guard dog and not willing to listen. It immediately leaps forward, snarling and snapping, and bites the ranger’s leg. Douvan smacks it across the face the flat of his blade, sending the dog squealing off into the dark. The other dogs are yapping their heads off even louder. Someone is bound to come investigate.

Merric uses the distraction and breaks a window in the shed. Inside he finds a wagon, and judging from the smell of herbs and spices, this is the same wagon on the road from Silverymoon. But whose is it, and why? Is this Balthazar’s stuff?

They just don’t know. Merric and Douvan flee for the dark woodline just as someone exits the farmhouse. He’s big and burly, and possibly scarred on the face. The man carries a lantern in one hand and a broadsword in the other.

“Who’s out there? Show yerself!”

The dogs are yapping and howling, a few of them straining at their chains while a few are roaming free. After a minute or so the scarred man retreats inside. Merric and Douvan wait for things to cool down. They’re not sure what to do. Their comrades have no idea where they are and they’ve been gone for hours.

[GM Note: Yeah, this was a situation where two players were the in the spotlight for a long time while the others watched or read a book; it happens].

Finally the dogs all go to sleep, but there are lights on inside. Merric stands up, stretches the weariness from his muscles, and is going to sneak closer for another look…

…when they hear clomping horse hooves.

A black stallion gallops up the road, bearing a lone rider with long red robes and a golden beard. The dogs are on their feet and barking incessantly. The man vaults off the horse once at the door and waves a hand across his face…instantly transforming into the black-bearded and black-clad Balthazar of the Potion Emporium. The red pseudodragon is curled around his neck. Balthazar knocks twice on the door and then enters, closing it behind him.

The dogs whimper, yawn, and finally go back to a fitful sleep, keeping one eye open for more intruders.

And there we stopped.

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #3: Tallow's Deep

PART ONE

Adventure #3: Tallow’s Deep

The session begins immediately where the last one ended.

Merric Littlefoot and Douvan Stahl are waiting in the shadows after Balthazar has arrived at Blackjack’s Pig Farm. They’re in a green field, the scent of grass and pig wafting around them, but mostly from Douvan who has slathered himself in feces to shield his presence from the nosy pseudodragon. (Oh, the poo-poo jokes were flying thick this session; I won’t even bother recounting them all).

Eventually the two heroes sneak closer to the building, trying to find a window or door to allow entrance. They’re careful to avoid the dogs congregated at the front stoop. Sliding through the shadows, they finally press up against a window, only to find it barred and the drapes shut. They can’t see inside, but they CAN hear Balthazar’s voice raised in anger:

“There’s not enough! We’ll need more, many more. You fool! You had a month to take care of this!”

The other voice sounds like the scarred man from before, very apologetic now, and then the voices fade. They hear a door slam. And then a door opens, the front door, and light spills into the darkness. A man’s shadow is extended from the portal of light. They hear wings and something flutters into the night, most likely that invisible pseudodragon. Merric and Douvan barely breathe as they huddle against the wall. If that little monster can see in the dark then there’s no way they can hide from it…

They hear the thing a few more times, like a bat circling around, and it eventually returns and the door shuts.

Merric and Douvan decide that this has been enough risk for one evening. Their companions Jolen the cleric and Nari-lanna don’t even know where they are, and rather than split up again and risk brigands on the road and angry wizards at the farm, the duo returns to Everlund as fast as they can.

Back in town, they reconvene with their allies who have been waiting at the shrine of Tempus. Merric and Douvan have been gone for hours and the others were starting to get worried. Merric has swiped a jar of spices from the wagon at the farm, so they’ll take a closer look at that, but it’s nothing more than oregano and parsley. It is only 10 pm and they feel that there is still some snooping that can be done.

Their thoughts return to the Merchant Guild, the caravan and the wagons. What was Balthazar carrying? Is it a huge secret? How much does Mayor Horace know about this? Do the travel logs have a detailed listing of the contents of the wagons? Douvan and Merric decide to break into the warehouse and find the logs, while Nari-lana and Jolen return to a tavern and start asking about Balthazar and Blackjack, the scarred man.

Turns out that a lot of people know Blackjack. He’s an ornery ex-soldier from the Everlund militia and he’s now a pig farmer operating outside of town. He’s not particularly well liked. But no one has heard of a wizard named Balthazar.

At the merchant warehouse on the River Rauvin, Merric and Douvan find four guards stationed at each of the cardinal corners. By luck, the guard at the south has dozed off in his chair, and Merric is able to sneak up, pick the lock and infiltrate the building. Douvan scuttles in behind the halfing, but the guard is roused at the last second. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he fails to notice the cracked door beside him, and soon falls back asleep. Douvan carefully and quietly locks the door.

[GM Note: Breaking into thewarehouse created the inevitable option of burning it down and killing all the guards, preferably by tying them to a barrel of gasoline, the first in a long series of destruction across the Realms].

They search quickly by candlelight, and eventually find the ledger from that morning. Indeed, there were dozens and dozens of various spices labeled, but nothing comes across as unusual. Somewhat discouraged, they leave the warehouse (intact) and return to their companions. There is not much more to do tonight, so they decide to get a good night’s rest and start again in the morning. After all, that will be the first day of BurgerFest and the heroes are very curious to see what all the fuss is about.

Dawn arrives, and the buzz of excitement is apparent. In fact, huge banners have been hung above all the main gates into town:

 

[Nebulous]

Adventure #3: Tallow's Deep

PART TWO

Jolen still has the admiration and devotion of Henchman #1 and Henchman #2, the two men whom he convinced to battle the ogres and giant the day before. For now, they’re steadfastly devoted to the priest and want to help him. So Jolen has Henchman #1 watch the Mountain Gate, with orders to leave a message at the shrine of Tempus if either Blackjack, Balthazar, or a wizard with blond hair and red robes comes to Everlund.

And then they’re off to Burger’s Palace, Mayor Burger’s home/5-coin restaurant, where a line has already formed. People are bustling with excitement, jittery and literally salivating at the thought of lunch. Followed by dinner. And then a big breakfast the next day. The heroes find this very odd and remind each other to NOT eat any of the burgers! It sounds suspiciously like a magical compulsion.

There’s a band playing outside of Burger’s Palace, and soon Mayor Horace Burger appears at the front doors himself, standing on the dais and spreading his arms wide.

“Greetings, friends! Civilians and neighbors and guests! Not much longer now, and the doors will officially open for Burgerfest! I can’t wait, and I know you can’t either! See you soon!”

And Burger returns inside.

Merric, Douvan, Nari-lana and Jolen soon find the delivery entrance to Burger’s Palace, in a busy alley in the back. White-apron wearing cooks, chefs and busboys with tall white hats are busy unloading food and from wagons…and who should be here but Blackjack the pig farmer, scars and all.

“Hurry it up,” the big man is saying. “I got business to finish.”

It looks to Merric like Blackjack has driven the same wagon where all the spices were kept the night before at his farm. It also looks like workers are unloading meat from the wagon. It’s very important that they get some more samples, and sneaking into the busy kitchen looking like a bunch of tough adventurers will be very hard to do.

[GM Note: This also spawned the idea of killing cooks on their cigarette break, wearing their outfits and sneaking into the kitchen that way. It didn’t happen either (thank goodness)].

However, an idea that does sound plausible comes from Jolen the cleric. Pushing ahead, he boldly strides up to Blackjack.

“Those scars, my friend,” he says in his most machismo voice. “You have seen as much battle as I have! Tell me, what did that to you? A dragon I bet! Last mistake it made, yes? HA!”

Merric Littlefoot is hiding nearby, hoping that Jolen can distract Blackjack enough from the wagon so that the Halfling can steal more goods to inspect. This instigated a quick Skill Challenge where Jolen tried to think of various points of interest and conversation to distract the burly scarred pig farmer, relying mostly on Diplomacy and History.

Blackjack is standoffish at first, but Jolen is able to lull him into a story of an encounter Blackjack had years back at the Goblin Marches, describing the dozen of little bastards he butchered that day! Oh yes, that’s where he got the scars, not from a dragon but from little gobbers. Jolen is able to convince Blackjack to join him for a beer and a burger later at Burger’s Palace.

Oddly, the pig farmer agrees to the beer, but declines the burger.

The distraction is sufficient (and the DC lowered) for Merric to swipe another bottle of spices. He sneaks off with it, and determines that it is just cayenne pepper, and Nari-lana the swordmage does not detect the hint of magic. Another dead end.

Blackjack is done soon afterward and clambers atop his wagon, heading toward the Mountain Gate. Merric the Halfling rogue decides to follow him at a distance, not that he could keep up anyway.

In the alley behind Burger’s Palace, the other party members try one more idea. They discreetly pull a cook aside and tell him that they’ll pay good gold for a sample of cooked meat and uncooked meat from Blackjack’s farm. The cook balks at first, but when he sees the ten gold coins jangling in front of him, his concern evaporates.

“Wait here. Ten minutes,” he says, and goes inside. He returns with a paper sack, exchanges it for the gold, and then tells them to get the hell away before they’re caught. Inside the sack are two balls of meat in wax paper, one cooked and one raw.

And they both radiate a faint aura of magic.

So, now the PCs know that whatever enchantment was probably done to meat was done before it reached Burger’s Palace. Whatever Blackjack and Balthazar are doing, it most likely happens at the farm.

But Nari-lana is concerned about Merric so she follows him to Blackjack’s farm. In the meantime, Jolen and Douvan Stahl wait in line at Burger’s Palace, hoping to get a few words in with Mayor Horace Burger himself (who does look suspiciously like Baron Harkonnen). The big man is there, and he openly and flamboyantly takes a big, messy bite of the first burger to kick off the festival. Cheers erupt, clapping ensues, and BurgerFest has officially begun.