We decided to give the hut a rest and travel down the road like normal folk. It was mid-morning when I caught the scent of freshly baked bread and… pastry? My mouth began to water, as I had not enjoyed a decent sweet since leaving Rel Astra. Off the road, just a little ways, we saw a small house with a table set up outside. Behind the table were three halflings—an older woman, and on either side of her, younger versions of herself… her daughters, perhaps? A cheerful painted sign read Memaw’s Roadside Bakery. Guarding the door to the house were two large birdmen, unlike any we had ever seen before. They stared at us as we walked toward the table, hands resting on their sword hilts as if waiting for trouble. The older halfling, with a handprint of flour on her cheek, introduced herself as Memaw. One of her daughters was Marigold, while the other remained quiet, shyly handing their mother our requests.
The bread and pastries were unlike anything we’d tasted in weeks—soft, rich, and touched with a kind of magic, though of the natural restorative sort. (+2 temporary hit points when eaten.) We left with a burlap sack filled to the brim: parmesan rolls, poppyseed knots, thick slices of pumpernickel, marbled rye, a dense chocolate torte, and a half-dozen cupcakes.
We asked her about the road ahead, and Memaw’s smile faded. She told us that more than once, the Over King’s troops had raided her bakery—hence the birdmen protecting her and her daughters. She had also heard rumors of what the locals were calling flesh eaters, led by an undead noble, roaming not far from here.
She gave us one last gift—information. A supplier of hers, Oswaldo the honey dealer, might know where to find the Fey. He lived about two days’ ride from the Wild Boar Inn.
We left Memaw and her daughters with our tasty goods. I wished I knew the secret ingredient that gave their baked goods such fortifying properties. Raelin wanted to go back and take a look inside the bakery, but we didn’t want to offend Memaw or her birdmen. Maybe one day, I would find out her secret.
We traveled by day, using the hut for rest at night. Raelin started learning to drive—jerky at first, but improving. It was mid-afternoon on the second day when I felt a tingling sensation and realized we had passed through some sort of magical barrier. I ordered Kron to stop the hut and stood on the porch, thirty feet in the air. Two rough-looking bandits stepped out of the trees. Kron wanted to stomp them, but I held up my hand to quiet him. They didn’t have their weapons drawn. I hailed them and asked why they were there.
They said they were part of a bandit troop and warned us that the road ahead was dangerous. Samus grabbed Leroy’s lute and started to sing—off-key—and the bandits grimaced, saying he was the worst bard they had ever heard. I don’t know what possessed me—maybe Leroy’s constant “Be the leader, Agniss” or his looks of contempt—but I said, “I’m sure you’ve heard of the bard, Leroy.” They laughed, saying that was a bard they would not stay to see, and offered to take us to their Chief to share more about what lay ahead.
The camp was not far from the magic trap, and we were greeted by a well-weathered human who looked as though he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in many weeks. He said he was the chief of this motley crew, and everyone simply called him Chief. On his right stood a goliath built like a siege engine, who introduced himself as Tug. On his left stood his opposite in every way—a thin, willowy woman with a longbow slung behind her back, named Fifi. Rounding out the group were the two we had met earlier: Whispers, a human woman dressed in blacks and dark greens to blend into the forest, and Surpungus, a dwarf who watched us over the top of his great axe.
Chief explained that Fifi had constructed the trap to reveal who was of evil intent and who was good. The evil didn’t get much further down the road. I brought out my bread and pastries from Memaw’s, and the crew’s eyes lit up. “You know the secret ingredient is Renizin eggs,” Chief said. We guessed correctly that the Renzin were the birdmen guarding the bakery.
Chief told us there had been heightened activity on the road with both the Over King’s troops and the flesh eaters, and to stay alert. We parted ways amicably and continued toward the Wild Boar Inn.
Not long after, we came across a horrific scene—six undead Over King troops dismembering a unicorn, while a second unicorn stood in chains. Kron cried out in disgust at the desecration of such a revered beast and charged them with the KFC.
Unlike the spiders, the soldiers attacked KFC’s chicken legs, while the human archers began pelting our hut and us with arrows. Samus jumped off the balcony, disappearing into the brush, then reappeared in ogre size to grapple the nearest foe. I yelled at Kron to bring the hut down and shrink her, or she would be lost—and right now, I had no means to save her. Kron complied, and I sent Mouse to retrieve the pocket-sized hut while we concentrated on the Over King troops.
With us distracting the soldiers, the second unicorn broke its bonds and raced away, disappearing through a magical door.
Chief and his bandits emerged from the forest to the left of the Over King troops and quickly turned the tide of the fight. Arrows scattered, undead crumbled, and the remaining archers fled into the hills.
We regrouped at the bandits’ camp. Leroy, always one for drama, regaled them with his rendition of the Battle of Foogleberg. The bandits listened—some laughing, others drinking quietly.
Later, Chief pulled us aside and revealed that Drax had killed his parents. About half his crew wanted revenge; the other half were simply in it for the coin.
We traded—eight greater healing potions for a +1 rapier and +2 leather. We also asked if they would be interested in making a bit of coin and sticking it to Drax and the Over King at the same time. We told them of our plan to rob the caravan, and they agreed to help for a cut of the loot. We agreed to meet at the Wild Boar Inn in four days’ time.
We left Chief and his bandits, spending the night not far from their camp, then continued our trip on foot. Rounding a corner, we stumbled upon a wildly painted vardo with fading letters: Nilwoo Wogins’ Greatest Show on Oerth. A tall human greeted us, claiming to be Nilwoo himself—before quickly admitting he was actually Dilfinger Rodigin, who had found the vardo and couldn’t change the name.
Before we could question him further, he panicked, shouted something about “They’re coming!”, and ran into the woods, yelling for us to keep the wagon.
Then we saw why: flesh eaters, stumbling toward us, led by the best-dressed zombie any of us had ever seen. We killed them all and claimed the vardo, along with the two oxen that came with it—Johnny and Fred—both of whom seemed unphased by the fight. At least we didn’t have to walk anymore; Raelin would be happy.
Inside the vardo, we found:
A set of six rare marionettes, finely crafted (worth ~500 gp each)
A pouch with 37 gp
A scattering of low-quality musical instruments
Several broken lanterns and a few torches
