After a few strange rounds at the pub, it was clear that something was wrong with the beer. Not only was the tavern filled with many more belligerent drunks than usual, several people were being yelled at by various small animals, and several beers were talking, singing even through some strange medium. Kerouac, and a rather inebriated Tirias (who was trying to get away from the annoying conversation of the barkeep’s dog) headed to the Stormhammer brewery, a short walk across the city in the Crystal Hall neighborhood.
In front of the brewery a mob of drunks and teetotalers faced off, and the two adventurers convinced the picketers to let them through. Inside, a strangely quiet and placid front office. The receptionist, with a bovine look in her eyes, strongly encouraged our heroes to take the brewery tour. She then was very keen on having the boys try the newest batch of Fustre’s "No. Really. you. must.” Wanting no part in the dubious brew, Kerouac attempted to knock her unconscious but merely sent her reeling and calling for security.
Security arrived, a much larger and more heavily armed clutch of guards than one would expect at a brewery, perhaps mercenaries who’d been drinking too much of the new Fustre’s themselves (they did have a strange look on their skin and eyes, didn’t they?)? Things looked brief as the guards grabbed both Tirias and Kerouac, dragging them into the back rooms, until Guark arrived (unable to convince the teetotaler’s to let him through, his axe did the talking and started a riot outside) and provided some needed bolstering
After a close call with the guards and a spot of rest, the gang continued the tour self-guided and entered the main brewing floor, where huge blobs of sentient, chattering yeast colonies spoke of hatred from their enslavement to produce beer for so long. The yeast was a potentially deadly foe, wounding and poisoning Guark; he swung his mighty axe only to see the mass split into two new foes. Fortunately, evocation savant Kerouac made handy use of his frost ray to hold the monstrosities in place, turning a potentially fatal encounter into a winnable fight.
The gang decided that to be sure they’d put a stop to the yeast they had to torch the brewery, and left the building doing that cool walk-away-from-the-explosion move… right in front of a large complement of city guards dispatched to quell the rioting. A chase ensued through markets and back alleys, across the rooftops and rope bridges of the buildings. At the last moment, escape in sight, Kerouac fumbled and catastrophically lost his footing, finding himself in the dust, surrounded and caught.
The wizard was taken to a holding cell awaiting a trial by pie, one of the city’s bizarre baroque means of inquisition. The others retreated to their encampment in Sgrot’s sanctuary, but not before seeing another band of wolves in the dark alleyways feeding on…something; too tired to engage the beasts, they returned home.
Meanwhile, last we heard of our bard, Herbert Fiddlesticks was off seeking his muse in the forest. Rumours have reached the party that he thought to return to the high seas for one last stint of piracy, but the ship he sailed on was lost at sea. That said, something tells you that he’s still singing songs, not yet having them sung about him.
Loot found:
- A set of drawings, from life it seems, not unskilled, of a young aristocratic lady in compromising positions (hidden in Kerouac’s robes in the cell with him)
- A bag of telepathic snails with shells made of pure silver (700 of them!). You could sell them for their shells, but every time you do the snails protest, saying they’d really rather not be sold. (with Guark or Tirias)
- A tidy sum of gold, I forget how much, nicked from the brewery’s till.
Friends made:
- None, unless you count some dubious adoration by the prohibitionists for blowing up the brewery
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