In which gender is discussed, mothers are remembered, and sleep is finally found.
The pair enters the wasteland. Goat cheese is eaten. Names are exchanged.
In which a slave is sold to an unpleasant customer.
When photons bounce off your subs and into my retinas, this is how my headmeats give me numerals.
So you’ve finally done it. With the best of intentions all around the table, your PCs have finally blundered into the blender like curious gerbils, and now they are hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned. They are doomed, unless you unleash Secret GM Gambit #4 on them.
Certain trees have sap that is filled with magical potential. Their sap is harvested and distilled down to produce various types of potions, much like maple syrup is collected in some areas. The magical effects of these syrupy potions are often fairly trivial; perhaps they simply cause the imbiber to grow hair more quickly, summon butterflies, or walk a few inches above the floor. People enjoy the syrup as a flavoring, instead of imbibing it for its magical powers.