West Marches at the Board N Brew

Tulgey marched purposefully into the Grumley & Amberwash , hopped up on a stool, and set down his bag of alchemy supplies on the counter with a gentle clink of glass. “Good morning, my fine friend!” he called to the small figure in the back of the cramped little potion shop. “I’m here to procure the use of some of your equipment while I’m in town. I trust you’ll find my guild papers are in order.” With a flourish, he slapped down his letter of introduction, on filigreed Baldur’s Gate Guildhall letterhead. “I’ll just need some fresh subliming pots, and a larger alembic, if you have one. What temperature does your athanor run at in this weather?" He folded his hands on the counter in front of him and smiled expectantly. Filtwish Amberwash climbed up onto a stool opposite and squinted at Tulgey over his pince-nez spectacles. He seemed to scan the tree sap-stiffened mohawk and scalp tattoos with disapproval as he picked up the letter and unfolded it. Seeming not to notice, Tul...