AAR [2M]: The Wolf Pack and the Six Pack (2020-10-09 @ 2300 GMT)

[predajey]

AAR: The Wolfpack and the Six Pack
GM: Jeff
ECR: 2
Difficulty: Medium

Player Rewards:
Taras: 800 LP, 200 SP, 3 TIPs
Orlam: 800 LP, 200 SP, 3 TIPs
Strata: 800 LP, 200 SP, 3 TIPs
Nergae: 800 LP, 200 SP, 3 TIPs, a wolf, a boar named Bulwinkle
Amhran: 800 LP, 200 SP, 3 TIPs, a boar named Chuckie

Journals: 40 LP, 50 SP

GM Reward: Jarock (4000 LP, 475 SP, 3 TIPs)

Downtime:
Orlam:

• Research (Skill, rating 3, step 9); +3 step available by paying 20 sp to access the great library of Throal.

Taras:

• Research 12 (if and only if you spend 20sp for library access); Mourning a lost homeland while drinking vodka.

Amhran:

• Item History ECR 8, Rank 1

Summary:
Clem hired the party to dispatch with the wolves destroying his scarecrows and find his prized boars. When the party returned, they found Clem dead in his field and had to deal with the scarecrows, which were actually strawmen. The farm has been razed and Clem's still was sold. Amhran and Nergae each keep a boar, and Nergae takes home a wolf.

[Sharkforce]

Orlam Rolfsom, Journal Entry # 3: The Wolf Pack and the Six Pack

There is no possible way that all farmers could be this bad at what they do, or we would have all starved before the scourge even began. I swear, I must be cursed to meet the worst farmers in the entire province.

But I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself. A poster in the Grand Bazaar requested the assistance of Adepts at a farm to the south of Throal owned by a fellow named Clem. Surprisingly, several other Adepts were interested as well, mostly inexperienced; Nergae, a Dwarf Beastmaster, Strata, an Obsidiman who calls himself a Gauntlet and seems to punch things a lot, Amhran, a Windling Troubadour, and Taras, a fellow Human who is a Scout. The entire trip, I was thinking to myself "please don't be a pig farmer", and when we arrived I thought we were safe, but it turns out that he was just worse at keeping his pigs from running away than my last employer, although he didn't request our assistance with that at first.

Instead, he needed someone to watch his "farm field" (and I use that term very loosely) overnight to stop whatever was tearing apart his scarecrows. He invited us into his house (sort of) after Taras just walked right in, and it definitely made me appreciate the rations I had brought with me more. He offered us some moonshine that he had made from a "secret family recipe" (I suspect the main ingredient was wood alcohol), which I politely held until the liquid dripped out through the cracks, and then put it down empty. Amhran seemed less wise and gulped down a mouthful, and sent it right back up again immediately and seemed a little woozy for the rest of the day. Taras also drank a couple of mugs full, but seemed to handle it a little better. Either way, it was probably a good thing that we decided to catch a bit of a nap while we waited for night.

I wove us a few Shelters up in the trees around the area, except for Strata who remained below, not trusting the trees to support his weight, and after a while a pack of wolves showed up and started sniffing around. They seemed uncertain about us in the trees, but figured out Strata was not just a rock and attacked him. We quickly defended ourselves and made short work of the wolves, which based on their tracks in the area had been wandering through on a regular basis, and in the morning Clem seemed pretty pleased. And then he sent us out to find his pigs.

Thankfully, they were not angry poisonous pigs which made them a lot easier to deal with; we simply led them around with food and Nergae's Beastmaster abilities. They didn't gore us or charge at us or trample us or bite us, which was a nice change. Of course, nothing ever seems to go smoothly; we got back to Clem's farm and he was lying face down in the field. When we got closer, it became very obvious that he was quite thoroughly dead, as his entrails were spilled out all over the place. Strangely, we couldn't find any indication of what had killed them. I noticed that there was an extra scarecrow around, placed in the small fire pit we had built to provide light in the night, but it didn't seem to be that important at the time. Taras noted that whatever killed him hadn't left because there were no tracks leading away and I immediately decided I should prepare my Wood Skin.

This turned out to be a very wise decision when the scarecrows turned to face us and started walking at us menacingly. In earlier conversation it had come up that Clem had gotten some straw from a passing caravan, and since Clem's competence certainly didn't suggest he could have ever in a million years created a creature from straw deliberately, we figure it was probably tainted (after the fight, we would set it all aflame to be sure it didn't get reused), so I would advise that some effort be made to track down the rest of it. Anyways, the scarecrows were quite poorly made and did not give us too much trouble; a few air armours passed around blunted their attacks quite effectively, and they were not very tough.

Afterwards, with our employer dead, we put everything in a pile and burnt it to make certain it would not be tainted. Amhran wanted to give Clem a decent funeral (she also wanted to bury him, which we weren't going for) so she collected some flowers (I stopped her before she could pick any poison ivy... I don't think she's used to the outdoors at all) and gave a speech, then we collected the hogs and went on our way.

(note: a sharp-eyed observer comparing this entry to those of the other Adepts on this adventure may or may not notice the group also claimed Clem's still. Orlam decided against including that particular piece of information).

[bronzemountain]

The Bad Farm

I have met worst farmer. He is elf. His name is Clem.
He is dead now.

Clem bought tainted straw (?!) from caravan. Made terrible scarecrows from tainted straw.
Local wolves attack scarecrows every night. Because local wolves have good taste.

Haha, also literally. Because local wolves attack us. Is very sad. We try to calm them down. But they are wolves. They want to eat. We fight.
Now we eat them. See? Joke. That tear drop on page was because joke so funny. No shut up you crying.

Bad Farmer Clem has lost pigs. We go get pigs. Pigs are very nice. Will also have good taste. Yes, I make same joke twice. In Vorst, we do not have many jokes. So jokes are re-used.

When we come back with pigs, no Clem. Only Clem's body, with entrails very messy on ground. Steaming and bloody. Not the worst way to go but not best. Is sad. I mean, a little sad, not very sad. But a little.

Clem killed by his own scarecrows. Something something poetic justice.
Scarecrows attack. They are Horror constructs.
But also they are only scarecrows. So we destroy them easily.

Other Adepts also came. Read their journals.

[Serespar]

<Throalic year (Strats doesn’t keep track of days)>

Da short form of my name in the surface folk fast talk is Stratavaraprolagrahayopristanockahgannagroth, tho da fast movers keep it even shorter n call me Strats.

The feel of the sun n wind in the cycles of day and night are so beautiful, and go by in da blink of an eye.

I’m enjoying da world outside the Stone, but it goes by so fast ya gotta catch da moments.

Such speed n fleetin splendor.

Da wind brothers speak of a swarm of insects that go by in the blink of an eye to them; I wonder if it’s something like dat. <ponders for an hour>


Am not sure ‘xactly how I gots swept up in the farm stuff.

I wuz standin by a wall in da bazar with all dis paper n writin on it, lookin at da most amazing stone carving <journal digresses into nuances of the stone involved for several pages>.

Next thing I knows, a cat is batting at my horkla. I look round n a bunch of folks waz all swept up in sumthin.

The cat points to her dwarf n tells me da dwarf needz protectin cause she don’t know stuff good like catz do n she’s not ready for her servant to get eaten. She tells me I needz ta practice protectin n to git ta work.

I shrug n goes along with it. Am here for practice protectin stuff, n so I starts following da dwarf.

Still tryin to get the gender thing straight, but I think she wuz a female? Beastmaster anyway. Da cat said somethin bout how much trouble it waz to get the dwarf up to speed so it wasn’t SO MUCH WORK ta tell her dwarf wat to do, or somethin. Am a gud listener so let the cat ramble while we shuffles along n she tells me lotz about this Nergae o hers.

It gradually sank in dat der was some others there too.

Der was a human wat resonated with stone energy n some other stuf. Elementalist. Name a Orlam. He had a spirit pebble in one of his matrix tings dat kept pokin out at me n gigglin. I wasn’t formed yesterday n didn’t turn my back on da little stinker; I knows an earth dart ready for mischifs when I sees one *snicker*

Der was another human that paid attention to the stone he walked on, tink his name was Taras? He looked and sounded like the scars after an earthshift had messed stuff up. Scout guy.

An der was a lil windling, a gal I think? She talked n talked n talked n talked. And I thought a river rolling over stone never stopped. Still not sure what she wuz sayin, but da cat was glaring when I wasn’t payin tension to her servant so I let da stream a words just roll on by.


Da cat waz takin her dwarf for a walk; don’t know why, but waz a pretty day. Or was it several days? Hard not to blink. Tink it was several of em.

We smelled sometin bad; turned out ta be a pig farm n an elf covered in pig shit. He washes himself in some mushroom stuff he makes in his still n gargles with. He got no land sense at all. He was tryin to grow stuff in soil that had way too much …. <digresses into a technical discussion of rock, soil, watersheds n a conversation about a bit of broken off rock with striations from a glacial event millennia past>.

I was startled when I realized da windling had stopped talkin and started snorin. While I was lookin at the soil the group around the cat’s servant had all climbed trees n gone to sleep. I lit a fire n kept watch. Stars were amazin. So peaceful.

Looked over n some fur brothers, think the surface folk call ‘em wolves? They came by for a snif. I let ‘em check me out but growled a warnin when the beta of the pack started liftin a leg. Nut uh. The beta decided it was a dominance challenge so I punched him n he went down. His packmates launched themselves at me as I waded thru em to give the cat’s servant some cover. I punched dem too. Dat matrix pebble snickered as he flew by. He seemed happy to pepper da wolves n waz too busy ta pay much attention to me. Just love punchin. Wish da fur brothers hadn’t started tings. Won’t start a fight, but I’ll finish one.

One of the humans handed me a bad of crabapples n said something about getting some pigs? Not sure, but smiled n took da bag, then followed da cat’s servant as she took her dwarf for another walk.

The surfacers seemed ta be playin some kinda game involving pigs n crab apples, but I don’t know der culture or da rules. Just kept an eye out for stuff that might need a punch. I think dey score points for putting pigz in a fenced in pen full of shit or somethin?; they spent a lot of time drawin da pigs back to the pig pen anyway.

Der was a commotion n I noticed that da shit covered elf was dead in the field. DAT got my attention n I began to really pay attention n see what needed to be punched.

The shit covered elf had made straw decorations to get his field ta grow, or something; I’m polite with other cultures tho I don’t really understand em. Anyway, da dwarf waz shoutin something about the straw bein cursed n the decorations attacked. I punched em.

The cat then took her dwarf for another walk back to Throal.

[Lashana]

Dearest Mishpokhe,
Goodness this is exciting. I was hired to travel with a group of fellow adventures to help a farmer named Clem. He was looking for assistance to stop the mysterious villain that was raiding his fields and destroying his scarecrows each night. My traveling companions were a very eclectic group, really widening my horizons. Clem had farmland, and creepy skeleton-like scarecrows that REALLY felt like they followed you with their fake little eyes. We were going to stand watch and catch the midnight raider in the act.
Clearly we need to learn manners because while we were talking to the farm owner Strats just opened the door and walked into his home. Rude! But then Clem invited us inside his…..ummmm….home. It was rather run down and spartan. But he offered us some of his family recipe moonshine. And while I know I’m not supposed to partake, it seemed rude to decline. So I accepted just a small cup, And good day, was it strong. It nearly burned my windpipe away. I daresay I got a wee bit tipsy but the lesson was learned.
Orlem made awesome beds for us in the trees but Strats (a huge obsidifolk) remained firmly earthbound. I’m pretty sure I was asleep before my head hit my backpack. Next thing I knew I was being woken up with shouts about wolves. My only real contribution to this fight was to dart in and out of the fighting to try to distract the wolves so others were better able to hit them. But they were fairly quickly dispatched. And Orlem and Taras said it looked like the wolves had been tracking through the area fairly regularly so Clem seemed pleased when we reported that they would no longer be an issue for him.
He did then ask us to go find his boars, which had escaped. I thought he said one of them was named Chuckie (but he actually said Charlie) and one of our party members is studying to be a great animalhandler - I think she called herself a Beastmaster. Her name is Nergae, she traveled w/this great little kitty. Anywho, Nergae and I managed to sweet talk and bride the boars back to the farm with wild apples we pulled from the trees. It was much easier than Orlem led us to believe. He made it seem like they would suddenly rise up and spit acid and goar us with their 8 foot long tusks. Silly Orlem. I took an instant liking to the boar named Charlie, who I affectionately call Chuckie.
When we got back to the farm it was to a most gruesome sight, poor Clem was dead. And I mean very obviously dead. But I didn’t see anything around that would indicate what had done him in. Orlem though, being ever so vigilant noticed there was ONE extra creepy skeleton-like scarecrow in the field than there had been last night and in our firepit from the night before. And Taras, he’s a scout and likes to shoot things in the butt (don’t ask), well he pointed out that whatever had killed poor Clem had to still be here because there were no departing tracks.
As he finished saying that, that new mystery scarecrow turned towards us and began advancing in a most unfriendly manner. Luckily they were not well made (I think I mentioned above that Clem was a farmer of questionable quality) so they fell apart fairly easily and took to flame quite easily once we figured that out. Orlem then recalled Clem saying he had purchased the straw for the scarecrows from a passing caravan, he suspected foul play. He insisted we burn everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. So we burned the house, the crops, the straw and poor Clems corpse. I had argued for giving Clem a decent funeral but I was shot down. They did allow me to say a few simple words about him and I gathered flowers to throw on the flames for him. I had to be saved from picking some poison ivy. How embarrassing. I managed to save the hogs. Nergae and I both kept one, she named hers Bulwinkle .

Love,
Amhran