‘You are freed from all cares brothers and sisters! All worries! All need to toil and labour for the baron’s taxes, in the guild’s fields and for the peddler’s wares! All the drink you could ever need!’
Final words of an extremely drunk hedge conjurer by name of Oates Greenlock.
A goddess with a holy object of veneration in every pocket, wallet and bank; as well as down the sides of the big comfy chair in the inn.
"A demonic plant? Don't be daft, go research something useful to society."
"But-but the p-plant! It's evil! It must be destroyed!"
"Now the flowers bloom all year round thanks to the most holy Spirit of Urban flora. It just takes a little blood."
Rain slowly builds, thunder and lightning continue to roll in. Road muddies, horse/wagon getting stuck in the mud. Thunder strikes coinciding with a deep hole a horse just walked in, horse panics, breaks its leg (maybe just sprain?). Horse is decompacitated and the rain just went from pouring to an all out monsoon. Shelter needs to be found, horse needs to be taken care of, covered in mud, add the posibility of items being lost to the confusion with the wind and dealing with spooked animals.