Thug Muggers in the City 12/3/23
Table Talk:
Two mechanical things this time, and actually, both are for Raelle-the-Protector.
Protection fighter: “When a creature you can see attacks a target other than you that is within 5 feet of you, you can use your reaction to impose disadvantage on the attack roll.” - page 72 of the Players Handbook. You don’t need a shield though, and can use your staff instead.
Extra attack: “[Y]ou can attack twice, instead of once, whenever you take the Attack action on your turn.” - page 72 of the Players Handbook. This doesn’t say anything to define targets or range, so i’m gonna say that you can divide your attacks between targets as long as your movement allows it. BUT, as we’ve discussed before, your bonus attack has to be on the last target you hit.
Postal Worker: This is highly irregular.
Malvo: No. Highly irregular is the time I found a human foot in a toaster oven. This is just odd.
—Noah Hawley, “Fargo: (S1 E2) The Rooster Prince"
🎲🗡️🔔✨🌿
Chapter 3: Reset
🎲🗡️🔔✨🌿 Chapter 3: Reset
Back in the palace on the fifth floor, the bottom of the crown suite, The Crown, The Soul, The Heir and the Scion and The Sprout sit down in lush overstuffed armchairs. Lo pours a tart berry tea into finely worked golden cups, and hands them around to everyone. They all have calm, but happy expressions, “I think that went well.”
“Yes, I do too.”
The Heir pauses before taking a sip, “I am worried though.”
“Don’t be, you did an excellent job testing them! You remind me of Cabehti at your age.”
Xe blushes at the complement and bows xer head, “I mean I'm worried for the city. Do you think they can manage it?”
While The Crown finishes xer drink an unfamiliar voice says “I watched Uncle Bostra from the shadows. He thinks we hate him. I suspect they all think that we simply do not care, and are taking this as a matter of little interest.”
“I know Robin, and we have to play it that way for now. If he sees you he’ll figure out exactly how serious we are.”
Sam sets down the golden teacup on its saucer. “I really do believe in Bostra, you know that. He gave it all up, because he wanted to do what was right for the city and the people. Xe… He passed over his title because he thought it was the right way to serve. One day I will tell him just how wrong he is, and show him our love. But, for now I need his fury, we all do, it may be his righteousness that saves us all.”
In the dead of night in Jar Street, a group of adventuring heroes creep up towards the middle bank building. “Where’s the guard? He said he’d be here.”
“I’m telling you, Kaelle, it’s too good to be true.”
“Shut up, magic boy!”
“I’m just saying; crooked guard → meets new in town adventures in a tavern → says he’ll help us break into the bank, come on really!? That’s straight out of the original adventure chapters. Look, I’m an orphan, I can tell they’re obviously gonna mug us!”
“Shut up Torin!” The fighter spits at the sorcerer and readies her spear. “What do you think, Eri?”
“I don’t know…” the Ranger says pulling out a crossbow, “it does feel pretty convenient though.”
The paladin, a quiet gnome, is off to one side ignoring them, and finds a body laid out by the side of the road. “Uh, guys, maybe we should go.”
“Why? What is it, Acacia?”
In Wood Row a shaken scamwich artist (like a subway sandwich artist but a scammer, get it?) is holding a mug of warm tea to her lips and looking around at the late night carpenters who saved her. “I’m just so.. How could… if I can’t sell garbage to late night drunken heroes how am I gonna make a living!?”
“Lizard people.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
The girl who hit Cypress slaps a wooden baluster into the palm of her hand, “Yeah. Lizard people. I heard of them before. Like people, but their lizards, but not like real lizards or like real people or even like real lizard people, they’re shape shifters and they wear our faces so they can-”
“Get out of here!”
“Alexandria James, stop spreading conspiracy theories and go to bed!” Then as an afterthought, “And no more coffee for like a week, Gods!”
Back in our suite at the Nort Gate Inn the Thug Muggers are sleeping off a truly crazy day. Just as a reminder, it started with Sorin getting distracted buying poison, and Rae did a whole grab bag thing. Then came to a crescendo with meeting the literal ruler of the kingdom. And ended with Ari exploding someone’s face, right before Cypress leapt out of and through the table to attack me personally, so… yeah. It was a day.
But that’s all behind us now and we can start fresh. Right? RIGHT!?
tZulèe is making little snoring noises that sound like sandpaper, and Akris is stacking balls of lint on top of Sorin's sleeping forehead. Who wakes up first?
Cypress’s eyes are the first to open, but he hastily squeezes them shut, trying to will himself back to sleep (been there buddy, been there).
Ari wakes up and tosses the cool sheets off of her.
She shivers and her hypothalamegalous sends a signal burst to her pancreogizard which tenses, pushing together the pellet-y iron like lumps inside it to release a small amount of a nitrate compound back up into her liver. There it bonds with an amino acid and enters the large intestine. When she stands up, her hypothalamegalous sends more singles and her inner muscles begin to spasm in waves of microtremors. The new amino acids break down and a tiny amount of capsaicin enters the bloodstream. With her elevated heart rate, the warm blood now flows into her pulsating muscles and she begins to warm from the inside out.
It’s absolutely garbage science, from some very quick googling, but it sounds good for a fantasy mechanism of why tieflings can make themselves so much hotter on just a regular human diet.
As she feels herself warming, Ari pulls on her leggings and undershirt then stares at her armor. She's made it look like regular clothing, and like her old beat up bloody armor before. But now, she decides she wants it to look like plain leather armor, just like when she bought it. She grabs the hem of the sleeve and unfolds it. The fabric unfolds to show leather, and she folds it back further. The leather has a rivet that pops when she tugs and she's able to unfold the leather up the arm, over the fabric. Then she tugs the strap she finds under the collar and the leather gorget comes out. She folds it over the top of the fabric bust.
Ari keeps folding the cloth and unfolding the leather until all the cloth is gone and the entire piece is just simple leather armor. It’s a bit lighter than she remembered, but it's well oiled and the edge chasing is burnished to a shine.
Like a feather tickling his nose, the feeling of the changing magic aura in Ari’s room, makes Sorin twitch awake. Give me a Con save. Uh, 11. He doesn’t notice as his yawn sucks in the crumbs, dust, and lint that Akris had been stacking on his nose, but they also don’t do him any harm. He stretches and stands up. Then walks over to Ari’s door and knocks.
Ari opens the door with her armor half on to see a teenage wizard staring at her. His hair is a mess. It’s spiked out in all directions as all of it is trying to flee the bad ideas in his head. His face is a roadmap of pink lines from the couch and robe he used as a pillow. The teenage wizard slouches casually against the door frame. Ari can hear his pants shifting, about to fall off.
“Hello, beautifu-”
Ari closes the door.
Rae hears Sorin grunt as the door smacks his hand, then the ‘flump’ of fabric hitting the floor. She opens her own door to see Sorin picking up his pants. “Stop bothering her. In fact, get away from her door…and pull up your pants… it’s unhygienic.”
When they hear Sorin muttering and slamming the bathroom door, Cypress gives up on his attempt to will the sandman into existence.
He takes the pillow off his face and sits up. WIth a cough and a grunt, he separates the two armchairs that he's pushed together into a nest and pushes them back into their places in the room. Enjoying the breeze from the cracked window under his long tunic with a smile, he pulls the potted plants together in the weak morning sunlight to a little makeshift altar of nature, and prays.
Give me a religion roll with disadvantage.
As he prays he gets an image of himself, an image he doesn’t much care for. He sees himself shouting at a terrified sandwich scammer, threatening them with his huge lizard jaws. He sees his companions killing some street tuffs with no restraint, while giant lizard Cypress plays with a chew toy. As he watches himself cover their corpses he hears the voice of an old tutor in the grass hall, “Remember that some people will not have a moral conscience, it is your task as a divine emissary to guide their way.”
He pulls his pants up and knots his belt thinking about the meaning of conscience, and picturing himself as a cricket on his friends’ shoulders… being swatted aside.
On the other end of town on a small farm, a small boy wakes up. He is bright eyed and smiling. He creeps and tiptoes around the curtain of his moms’ bedroom whispering something about ‘fun before chores’. Then in the early morning light he runs out the door into the yard.
He jumps up and grabs a rope laughing.
The rope is attached to an old, worn-out wagon wheel hanging parallel to the ground. He sits on it and kicks his legs, pushing the swing into the air.
Now that everyone has their pants on, let's go down to eat.
In the lounge this morning, there is a large dish of mint sized candies with a card readi-
Ashley: “Sorin eats those right away.”
… how many?
Ashley: “He just takes like five, and inhales them.”
…make four constitution saving rolls.
Sorin burps and he can taste the fact that he’s about to throw up. He runs from the room. In the lobby he looks around in a panic for a-
NotimeNottimeNotime RUN!
He runs outside and just barely makes it to the wall in time before he throws up an entire meal, a meal which he hasn’t even eaten. Then, because he failed twice, he does it again. Sorin takes 9 damage as his internal organs continue to try to exhume food he hasn’t even eaten.
Cypress looks down from the window to the little card by the bowl. In fine filigree it reads:
“Raton’s Ration candies,
Just one is as good as any meal.
Please limit yourself to only one”
Without another word the others all pass over the dish and go for the omelets instead. The Korean-style omelets are a delicious folded egg dish that look like a yellow Crunchwrap™. The egg is cooked in a very very thin layer by rotating a wok over high heat and then they are filled with fried rice, and folded in a hexagon. These ones have seafood fried rice with shrimp and crab. They are delicious.
After eating their omelets, the others take pity on their friend, and Cypress brings out a pitcher of water to Sorin.
While Sorin rests for a second clutching the water pitcher and Akris laughs at him, Cypress gets another plate and omelet and takes it upstairs.
They go over to the gargoyle and kneel down. tZulèe is looking lonely and sad. With kind words, Cypress coaxes it to eat. Silently, the gargoyle looks at the food and the plate, then politely sets the omelet down and eats the plate.
Once the cracking and crunching has subsided, Cypress asks, “What food do you like tZulèe?”
“Heart. Wood.” It says with the smile of a child thinking about candy. “Is best. And delicious!”
Cypress thinks about this and then smiles. “Would you like to come with me today, tZulèe?”
After a pause, the Gargoyle gives a shy and almost embarrassed nod.
When Cypress comes down to the courtyard they are carrying the gargoyle on their back like a backpack. They nod at Sorin as he stands up. “Where can I find some cheap crockery?”
Sorin blinks in thought, “How cheap?”
“Broken would be best.”
“What, you mean, like, just pieces of pottery?”
“Yeah.”
A fond smile plays on Sorin’s lips as he remembers his time working for Bellfan the tinkerer and recycling master. “Follow me.”
After several minutes giggling and swinging, the young farm boy drags his heels in the dart, and slowly spins to a stop. He has an idea. With a 6 on his Strength Check (rolling a D10), he manages to pull and shimmy his way up the rope and onto the branch of the old Ash tree. With a 3 on his Perception Check (rolling a D4) he can see out over the back porch of the farmhouse. He can see the still shed, the side field full that has berry bushes and grain this year, the potato patch, and of course, the great big cucumber field. He smiles to himself thinking about how he's never seen the farm from this high up. Even from the attic window things looked small, but now he can see the whole thing!
Just off the Main Way to the south, stands a three story tall (that’s 8 millibananas in metric) square barn with a small sailcloth windmill on top. Nailed into the red lacquered wood siding are foot tall ceramic letters on one side of the open doors. The shiny blue-teal swirling glazed letters announce, “The Potter House”.
This early in the day, the full doors are open to let the cold air in. They are each about seven feet wide and open all the way to the roof. With a closer look, we can see that this building used to be two tall narrow barns that were roofed over and joined together. When they were, the side walls were torn off to leave a great open floor in the middle with two great rows of stalls. The stalls on the ground floor are almost all storage. Pitchers, bowls, buckets, plates, glasses, bottles, and more. Everything on pegs, racks and shelves or in boxes lined with straw.
The second floor is all workshops with wires and brushes and tools and pegs. Some of them have wheels that spin gently in time with the windmill on the roof. The third floor is a completely different kind of storage. Up here there are small ladders and scaffold planks running across the gap to join the two sides with people carrying wicker baskets across them. The rooms up here are not full of shiny glazed beauties like we find below, but shelves holding pottery in grays, tans, and browns next to hard little cones and rectangular clay cards. Some doors look shiny and almost oiled, and we can see light shining inside them from the kilns.
In the middle of all this, hangs the mazes of ropes, cranes and pulleys used to raise and lower bags of fuel, board of drying clay works, and soft rag baskets of finished pieces.
Cypress takes it all in as Sorin talks about belt linkages to the windmill for the wheels and how the thermal properties allow them to arrange the building by heat. He’s clearly quite proud of his city and how smart it is.
Sorin walks Cypress to the back of the long barn. On the right is a room with several sacks that seem to be leaking pure brown. On the left though, is a true dream job.
Grog is a component used in many forms of pottery. It is a ground down baked clay. Grog can be coarse or fine depending on its use and can be made of all different kinds of clay. Adding gray grog (a mix of various left over bits) can add structural stability to a vase or bottle. Adding red grog (terracotta ground super fine) can add a thermal resilience to an oven pot or a bucket. It’s been used by potters going back to early bronze age porcelain to give a kind of temper to pottery. And all throughout the world and history there has been a simple and satisfying way to make it. Smashing pottery.
With a wave, Sorin walks up to the two elves working back here. One of them drops a twisted tea pot in a big iron pot, then drops a large stone on it with a crash. “Sorin!” they wave back and come over, “I thought you didn’t work for Bellfan anymore? What’s the old man bringing us?”
Sorin chuckles, a casual social chuckle that throws Cypress off guard, “Nah, you heard right, the old guy made me retire. Said I was getting too old for him.” After the perfunctory laugh he continues, “Nah I’m in the school now. That's why I'm here, I need some grog for a project.” He nods down at Cypress, “My friend and I-”
The elf laughs and makes a friendly jab, “They make good innocent people be friends with you up there, damn what’d this guy do? Kill a teacher?” They all laugh, but Sorin blinks to stop from actually feeling the insult.
“We’re trying to test different kinds of mixtures in spells to isolate the necessary ingredients. We hope that we can get Tongues down to just a line drawing instead of a whole sculpture.” He says, thinking fast.
The elf scratched their chin. “Interesting. On the one hand, it’s less business upstairs, on the other, it’s more money for us.”
“Well right now it’s just a theory. We need a bunch of different grogs to try it out.”
“For Bellfan’s old errand boy, 8 silver and will grab you a few different ones.”
The young farm boy is standing on his branch on top of the swing rope in the old tree. He grabs the center of the tree, and suddenly he’s in the crow’s nest, sailing on a vast pirate ship. He rocks back and forth, his ship cresting the giant waves as he gets ready to attack his foe!
Nibiru is landlocked, the tree is too skinny and the wrong type of wood for a mast, a ship would not attack on rough waves, and the farmboy has never seen a sailboat let alone a galleon. But there’s no logic that a little imagination can’t force out of the way!
He bucks his legs and chest with the waves laughing and “ARRR”ing and then… he slips.
A mother appears in the farmhouse door with her stern hands on her stern hips making a stern face. She’s ready to scold her naughty boy. She looks left… looks right… then looks up. She gasps, “Aschten! Don’t fall!”
Suddenly there is a blur as her girlfriend rushes through the door, a big burly mass of strong arms yelling “I got him!” As she runs out while trying to stop her pants from falling down.
The boy falls.
But the rushing figure makes it just in time and scoops him up right above the ground.
…
Then her pants fall down.
Aschten laughs, pointing, “Yer, silly Behy!”
She sighs, “Yup. I just saved you falling out a tree… And I’m silly alright.”
Further south, on a wall in Dead Plaza, Ari pushes a copper coin into the circle of Devin’s mark.
The circle blinks… then blinks again and suddenly the circle has a green iris. Three more parts of the wall blink and like a weird datamoshing video, the faces and necks of Devin are suddenly just there, carrying the texture of the wall with them for a moment. He blinks and lifts his third hand to shield his eyes. “Isn’t it usually dark when I talk to you guys?”
“Yeah,” the other head says, stealing the middle arm to shield its eyes, “this early morning sun is gross.”
The first head takes the middle hand back asking, “So, is it buying today?”
The second head takes the middle hand back asking, “or is it selling today?”
Ari sets her back on the ground and starts rummaging. “Selling today.”
Ari hands over her bad dagger to Devin, and finally his two outer arms cover both faces as his middle hand holds the weapon up for inspection.
“Is there anything special about it?”
“No.”
“Liar.” One head says.
“It’s eSPECIALly bad.” the other head says.
“Look, Devin, I’m not asking for an arm and a leg, just, like, a couple-”
“1 gold.” The buying head says.
“Deal!” Ari excitedly pockets the coin.
“Now about that arm and leg…” The selling head begins.
“What!?”
The middle hand disappears into the wall and starts rummaging, “Does it need to be human, or just human-oid? Lets see elf… Taxabi..”
“WAIT WHAT!?” Ari waves her hands shocked, “NO! Devin, I don't need any body parts from people!”
“Huh, oh really? I can get ‘em cheap.” Then pulling his arm back out of his wall-chest and shaking his head, “Well if you change your mind…”
Ari sells off a few more random items in her pack for 3 Gold and 1 Copper. Then she and Rae head over to the banks to see if she can do anything with the Dwarven check that’s been in her bag for a week.
Leaving The Potter’s House, Cypress turns to Sorin, “So I need a monogram thing right? What's the deal with that?”
Sorin explains (it’s explained here in the blog if you don’t know), and draws his own symbol in the dirt.
“So where do we go for that?”
“Well that depends…”
There are a few small Monogram makers in town, but they all kind of have the vibe of tv commercial lawyers. They’re fine if you need them, but they aren’t exactly reputable. Sorin got his monogram through the school. There is one other place though. THE Monogrammers. They don’t really need another name because they were the first and they’ve been going nearly as long as the royal family. They’re run by one of the oldest gnome families and a monogram from them carries distinction and class and is an instant registration in the city.
“Alright well let’s go there,” Cypress says with a sigh, “I think a cheap stamp is good enough for me, personally. But I have a hunch that in the coming days it’ll be a good idea if we can look fancy and legitimate to snobby people.”
It’s time for a late breakfast now on the farm, and Ceera has decided to let young Aschten have his favorite food. One, because he did a good job with not dying from a fall; and two, because it’s something she knows he’ll eat. With a sigh, she puts a handful of the little snack in the top of the mini oven, lights the little candle, and pushes it in under the Air Stone. After a few minutes in the air oven, she pulls out the little breaded shark shapes and puts them on a plate before cooking real food for herself and Behy. She remembers asking the trader once if the sharksticks were made of real shark or just fish, but he just laughed and said “Yup one hundred percent pure fresh water river shark.”
The door to the Monogrammers is a work of art in and of itself. A masterpiece of delicate smithing and carpentry where the branches of an iron tree open to reveal the door. Inside is a triangular shaped building with two floors. The upstairs deck is lined with doors to small offices, but otherwise open. The ground floor is a wide open floor plan with large drafting desks and small tables scattered around. The edge of the room is lined in rows and rows of books on one side and shelves of different props on the other. There are a few artists present and working at a few of the desks. They have living plants, anvils, tools, loaves of bread, and small taxidermied animals arranged as references as they work on large sheets of paper. Some papers are covered in lots of tiny ideas and some are just one big idea being refined.
When we walk in, a butler stands to attention and walks to us. “Are we receiving, or requesting today?” Then after looking at Sorin's close, “Or delivering?”
Sorin grins, refusing to take offense and motions to Cypress, “My friend here is requesting. And at the behest of-”
Cypress steps on his toe and gives him a look.
“Requesting.”
“Right this way.” The butler escorts them to a drafting desk without much clutter on it, where a gnome is tidying up.
The next few hours are an extensive interview. The artist takes notes up and down 4 sheets of paper asking Cypress about things like:
his family tree,
his religion,
the things that matter most to him,
his purpose in life,
his favorite colors,
what he plans to happen to his legacy after death,
his favorite books,
his thoughts on he economic systems of kingdoms,
his favorite song to dance to,
why he came to the city,
his favorite song to drink to,
the first thing he pictures when he closes his eyes and imagines what the world looks like from the eye or eyes of an all powerful god,
his favorite tea,
and so on…
Ari and Rae find the bank with the large dwarven runes carved in the marque over the door. This time of day of course, the doors are open. And as we walk in we almost don’t notice the walls until we realize that's because they are just as thick as the open doors. The whole building is a yard thick block of stone carved from a single piece and brought down from the high mountains. Behind the gate is a guard who seems to be asleep in her chair, a massive stone throne raised 4 feet off the ground only accessible by the ladder carved into it. Hanging around her head from shiny bronze chains are cages filled with birds, bats, spiders, snakes, and a giant moth. As we walk in, all of their heads turn and follow us.
There are no doors or side rooms, but In the center of the building is another cage. A massive cage. It is all bars of fist thick infernal iron that shimmer with dull red pulses. It stands just over one story high, and in the middle of it is the bank’s hoard. A pile of gold, silver and gems teetoring stacks and cascading piles.
So how are you guys going to approach this? Give me a history roll to say how much you know about dwarven banks.
Ari’s nat’ 1 means she is just staring at the vault and, let’s be honest, probably drooling.
Rae’s 13 doesn’t give her the knowledge that dwarven banks are notorious for giving money to any check holder without question and as such are a lot like crypto currency, where lots of shady people use them to avoid being traced. It does give her an idea though, and she whispers it to Ari as they walk up to a desk.
I say ‘desk’ but in truth, as we sit down, we can see this is a workbench. Positioned a few feet in front of the enormous vault cage, is a hard wooden slab with a brazier of red hot coals, several different sizes of hammer, tongs, files, clamps, a magnifying glass, a loupe, and scales.
Ari coughs nervously and sits down. Then recites Rae’s idea, “We have a, uh, check, uh, it’s from our… boss. He said to cash it here?”
The dwarf, a tallish man with a white beard thick enough to hide a flock of seagulls in, grunts and holds out his hand. For a second Ari almost runs… runs so far away, she thinks of running, running so far away, running all night and day. Then she reaches out a hand to touch her … check, and passes it over.
Give me a Charisma roll to determine the condition of this check you’ve had in the bottom of your bag for a week. [As a DM, a 1 will cause them to think it’s stolen, less than 4 and it can’t be cashed, less than 15 and it has to be examined, and over 17 will give advantage to the next roll, determining it’s value.]
11.
The dwarf takes the check and holds it up to the sunlight coming in from a high window. With the light shining through it, we can see that it changes colors in a swirling pattern like mother of pearl. “Eeeup i’s on’e ourn,” he says and then places it in a vice on the desk. He tightens the vice down then pulls out a large wicked looking ax from down by his legs. He pushes the ax into the coals and whispers. The coals glow blue and then he takes out the ax and we see its edge also glowing blue.
The dwarf carefully draws the blade down the thin edge of the check, splitting it apart like a cartoon hair. Then he unfolds the inside of the check and looks inside at the blue runes sparkling inside it.
Give me a Luck roll with a D8 to determine the value of the check. [as a DM, 8 will equal a d20, 7 will equal a D12, 6 a D10 and so on, then that die roll x10 will be the value of the check.)
7.
Roll a D12.
10.
The dwarf looks up from the check and writes something on a slip of paper. Then he stands up and walks over to the bars of the infernal iron cage. He passes the paper in to another dwarf in simple robes and a bright red beard braided into a tight series of knots. The red dwarf nods and retreats to the stacks of gold.
A moment later they return and hand a small tray through the bars.
“Thanks Kryten,” our teller says to the red dwarf and walks back to us.
Ari and Rae both roll high enough Con saves to keep their cool, as the old dwarf counts out one thousand gold to them. Then they leave trying hard not to high-five each other on their way out the doors.
As Behy clears away the dishes she turns to the child, “Are you gonna help us out today? We got lots of cucs to cut and jar on this here pickle farm!”
“I wanna chop ‘em up with the big knife!”
Silence in the kitchen.
“How ‘bout you help me get them in the jars and mom can swing the big knife?”
“But…”
His mom chimes in, “And, if you do good i’ll give you 6 copper coins. We’re going to the market tomorrow so you can get something with all of your saved up coins.” She points to a string by the sink. It has several copper, and a few silver coins, hanging on it like beads with the string through the holes.
“Hey, we're going to the market tomorrow! So Mom’s famous Pink Pickles must be done!
The boy cheers and chants, “Pink-ckles, Pink-ckles.” over and over.
“Because some roads you shouldn't go down. Because maps used to say, "there be dragons here." Now they don't. But that don't mean the dragons aren't there… Let me tell you what's gonna happen, Officer Grimly. I'm going to roll my window up, then I'm going to drive away, and you're gonna go home to your daughter, and every few years, you're gonna look at her face and know that you're alive because you chose not to go down a certain road on a certain night. That you chose to walk into the light instead of into the darkness.”
- –Noah Hawley, “Fargo: (S1 E1) The Crocodile's Dilemma”
Table talk:
A big shout out this time. When i was trying to figure out a good name for the ceramics super workshop in the city, i remembered my friends at The Potter’s House so i named it after them. Bev and Kris have known me since way back when i was doing blacksmithing at Renne fairs (in fact Bev recently told me she still uses some old tools i made her over 50 years ago). They’re some of the best people i ever knew in those circles! So, if you’re reading this please go check them out! They always make fun designs and try out new techniques and ideas!
An explanation of a farm boy. In Summary 4/30/22, Sarah’s child, Ashie, made an appearance by scolding me when i had the audacity to claim i was someone else. He’s a super fun kid, and every now and then he’s around during our games. Well, he was here this time and wanted to play D&D with us. So, he got to put his shark on the minimap and roll dice on his turn. He’s just to the point of being able to grasp the core concepts that make a RPG work. On his turns, he told me what he wanted to do, rolled a dice he decided he liked, and then i told him what he did in the world. So if you’re wondering, that’s why. Also, he calls his mom’s girlfriend ‘Bae’ like it’s still 2012, and that’s where Behy got her name. And the pickle farm… well that’s related to his family name, and a good way for me to annoy Sarah, i’ll just leave it at that
