West Marches at the Board N Brew

“Wow, it's beautiful, Grognak. Thank you.” Tulgey took the new staff of carved and polished pale wood, clasped it together with his old, unworked staff of aged and mossy yew and inspected the pair carefully. “Yes, this should do it… Thanks, Grog! I’ll be back to show you later.” The half-orc scratched his head quizzically as the gnome scurried off towards the fields outside of town. Tulgey took the staves to the orchard where Haakon’s small wooden bear totem still stood. The ritual had helped, it seemed, and new shoots were starting to form on the old pear tree. Clearing a patch of snow with some flame conjuration, he planted the ends of each staff so they stood upright in the earth. From a pouch, he took a sprig of yew: flat, dark needles and red berries; and an oak twig: broad, lobed leaves and acorns. He braided the stems together, around and between the pair of staves, forming an intricate knot. He stepped back and looked over the display. Something was missing. “Stability ...

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...

“Thanks for helping, Haakon. It’s been a long time since I’ve even thought about anything like this.” The goliath nodded, and stepped back from the fire-pit he had built, small and contained by rocks so as not to threaten the orchard. Not that the snowy landscape was in much danger of catching, but still. No sense in risking it. “The druids of my forest would use these communions in the months leading up to winter, to lengthen the foraging season. Nobody wanted to be stuck eating lichen until the spring.” Tulgey sighed, and looked around at the bare trees. “I don’t know if it’ll do any good here, when winter is already set deep. But these people are suffering, we have to try something .” Tulgey shuffled through a bundle of faded scrolls, on an odd sort of parchment that the gnomes of Tumtum Tree made from riverbank reeds. The notes, scrawled in a mix of gnomish script and druidic symbols were messy and disorganised, barely legible in places. Tulgey was never much of a student und...