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Wishing Well Winds [a Ryuutama PBF]


"You were quick healing yourself, I didn’t even have time to process doing it myself. I think everyone else is okay, " Shiro says, shaking the slime off of his hatchet before putting it away.

“Do these critters have anything worth bringing along?” He asks Dot, their resident expert.


“I’ve collected hime apples from slimes in the wastelands before but they weren’t like these ones. And they sure didn’t bounce.” Dot furrows her brow, “I’ll see what I can do.” She stows away her bow and goes over to inspect the puddles of slime. She’s trying to see if there’s anything she can salvage from the mess.

Trapping Check [DEX:d6 + INT:d6] 10, 7, 5 vs TN 6? (Monster level x2)
(not sure if I have to roll for each monster or not, so just ignore the other rolls if only one is required!)


Dot is able to recover 2 pale yellow apples from the goop.

It’s not far to Ersol Village, you’ll probably make it just before sundown.

[Town Creation for Ersol Village.

Just a quick build here, as it’s a very small village. I’ve gotten it started here. Each player is to provide a brief input:

@suz: provide Ruler or Representative.
@Abubu: provide Environment, as well as Sights, Sounds, Scents.
@PangolinPaws: provide Representative Buildings, as well as Town’s Threats.
@Pravikun: provide Specialty Goods.]

~Map has been updated~


((Ersol Village has the typical self-sufficient rotation of crops and wildstock, but the true merchant knows the village is on the trade route maps for two very specific reasons. Small expertly woven dried grass “good luck” dolls and spices.))


The transition from wild grassland to orderly plantation is at first subtle as the group continues walking towards Ersol village. The now familiar rustling of grass in the gentle winds of the plains continues even as the variety of colors diminishes to a bright green. Soon they are traveling between rows of towering Black Pepper plants, their dangling fruits hanging enticingly for anyone foolish enough to eat them before they are dried. The terrain slowly angles upwards and the older members are soon panting from the exertion. Then, they are free from the ocean of swaying leaves and come up on a natural clearing housing Ersol village. The rounded hilltop provides a beautiful vista across the plains. The sound of grinding peppercorns can be heard in the background, and the scent of the spice lingers in their noses; an ever present sneezing hazard as the group moves between the buildings.


Maki Kimura is Ersol’s matriarch and celebrated fortune teller. She has black facial tattoos and knows everyone’s business.


Ersol almost looks like its grown from the grassland rather than built. All the buildings have steeply sloped roofs of thatch, the lower edges of which almost touch the floor no matter the number of floors. From a distance this makes the place look like a clusterof sharply pointed hills amidst tge plantations.

The good luck dolls crop up in homes all the way up and down the trade route, but the older inhabitants of Ersol know they’re more than just trinkets. The village was plagued with bad luck right from it’s foundation but misfortune and accidents had almost spelled the end of the settlement fifty years ago. It’s widely accepted that Matriarch Kimura’s guidance is all that’s keeping the bad luck away.


Erasmus smiled broadly as they walked between the fields, breathing deeply and sneezing a couple of times, only to breath deeply once more, tempting fate as it were. He chuckled and spoke to the others. “Can you smell that my friends? That wonderful bite to the air, it invigorates me! The famous spices of Ersol! Did you know that a quarter of a bottle of plain pepper from this village has gone for up to 60 gold. We are fortunate to visit these lands.”


[Now if only free time, inspiration, and SU&SD’s forums not crashing would all coincide…]

As you walk through the plantation fields, the smell of peppers is faintly replaced by a new smell brought upon by the breeze: a burnt, damp smell. Coming around the bend, you find the source in a small clearing to your right. The charred remains of what used to be a shed squats there in the middle–the roof fallen in, its black and boiled rafters and frame about the only things still standing. The ground around it is covered in some haphazardly placed sand, and the nearest pepper stalks have been hacked short. It looks like it happened sometime in the past month.

The sun is starting to set over your left shoulder. The winding path between the fields leads you up a hill, atop which you can see the first building you’ve come across on your path, though you spotted a few here and there off in the distance. It is a long, low building, with the village’s typical thatch roofing. Standing outside on the path, there is an old woman. She is short, with a large head and even larger grey buns framing her face. She is wearing a simple kimono of faded purple, and is slowly sipping out of a green teacup that is round, ridged, and handleless. It looks like she has been watching you approach from her vantage point.

She takes another noisy sip as you get closer.

“Good evening,” she says in a creaky but cheerful voice.


“Oh - achoo! - good evening. We’ve come from Burr and we’re looking for somewhere to stay the night,” Dot looks longingly at the tea bowl. “Can you tell us a good place to set up camp? We passed a clearing just now, but it was a bit sooty.”


“Yes, what happened there? I can’t imagine a fire such as that would be common in a town like this with your surroundings as they are,” Shiro frowns, “I hope no one was hurt.”

Then, “Apologies, I’m Shiro and these are my companions, we’re on our Journey from the town of Burr to the West.”


“Yes indeed, completely un-soot-able, heheheh.” Erasmus murmured to himself, mostly under his breath and smiled broadly, bowing very low to the elderly woman before speaking up in his usual easy to hear voice. “A most pleasant evening it is indeed, Honored Elder. I am Erasmus Beigh and many a lovely sight have I seen over my years, but none so lovely as you.”


Willow chuckles and shakes her head at that introduction.


“Hmmmm.” the old woman’s voice crackles. “It’s not often we get Journeyers visiting our little corner, even from Burr.”

“Oh ho, no, no. The Evern lads and the Moiurns had it under control. I marched right down there myself and watched–I mean, observed … and asked questions, but no one knows what the cause was. It was an old shed, and fortunately it rained that night.”

“Oohhh, aren’t you just a sweet-talker,” the lady coos, as if talking to a little puppy, before turning her attention back to Dot and Shiro. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Grandma Margie. If you would like, we have a main room you can stay in. There are no beds, but the fire is warm. I’m sure my husband wouldn’t mind.”


“We would be glad for the company and hospitality! Thank you Grandma Margie.” Shiro says the last bit with a smile on his face. A grandfather himself, it has been a long time since he addressed anyone in that way.


“Indeed! As Young Shiro says, we would be most glad for the opportunity! You have our most heartfelt thanks, and should there be some small chores than need doing, please do not hesitate to ask, Grandma Margie. It would be our pleasure to assist you.”


“Young?!” Shiro bursts into a fit of laughter that does not stop until the corners of his eyes wet with mirth.

“Tell that to my back, it seems to have forgotten what being young feels like.”


Erasmus grinned broadly, delighted to have gotten laughter out of Shiro, stepping over and patting him on the back fondly.

“Of course it has, Shiro. Backs have notoriously bad memories.”


Meanwhile, Dot fishes out two packets of rolls from her backpack and hands them to Grandma Margie. “Can we share these with you for dinner? I bought them from Marjorie’s - the best bakery in Burr!” The buns look a little squashed.

[minus 2 rations]


[Yay, got internet back at home after several days!]

“Ohh, that’s alright, deary.” Grandma Margie creaks as she waves it away, “We ate earlier, but you can use our fireplace to make whatever you like. Come on inside.”

She turns to shuffle into the house as someone with all the time in the world.

The inside of Grandma Margie’s house is low-ceilinged and dim. It is mostly one large room with pillars and half-walls separating different areas: a wash room, a pantry, a shelving area. In the middle of the main area, there is a square hole in the floor boards, in which a fire pit is set up. A large kettle hangs from a hook over it, above which a metal exhaust hood comes down from the ceiling to direct the heat up into the chimney.

“Thomas!” Grandma Margie calls out in the soft voice of a butterfly, “Thomas! We have gue~ests!”

An old man with slumped shoulders pops his bald head up from behind one of the half-walls. “Hmm?” He scratches at the few wisps of hair on his chin.

“They’re Journeyers, they saw our little village as a nice place to visit!” she tuts an explanation as she shuffles slowly through the house, tidying up a blanket here and a candlestick there. “Please, help yourself to some tea.” she indicates to the suspended kettle. There is a tray with a container of loose leafed tea and a half emptied cup nearby. Soon–on Margie’s terms of time, at least–she is bringing out a tray with more cups.