Running a long campaign means not every night is filled with steel-on-steel combat or eldritch revelations. Sometimes, the table breathes in the quiet, letting small moments and suspicious glances carry the story forward. Session 18 was one of those nights—a tapestry of roleplay, rumors, and the faint scent of cider on the spring air.

A Tale of Two Paths

The party split once again, with Raven and Clover keeping to Trollskull Manor while Doc, Kiril, and Maple journeyed into the countryside.

In the Alley, Clover wandered into Rolling Stone Instruments, a shop run by a Tabaxi bard with an easy smile and a knack for encouragement. Clover found himself at home among strings and song, while Raven leaned into the role of the manor’s quiet shadow—cleaning, listening, and waiting.

Meanwhile, their companions arrived at the Snobeedle orchard. The halfling vintners showed off their perfumes and fruit, though not without a little comic fumbling from Doc and Maple. Outside, Maple bonded with a friendly dog while Kiril’s sharper eye caught something Blossom Snobeedle was trying to hide. Nervous mannerisms, awkward excuses—the orchard keeper knew more than she let on.

The Cider Bargain

The group reunited at Trollskull, traded stories over Raven’s drink, and then pressed on toward Undercliff. Their road ended at Stoutfellow Farm, where Mary Stoutfellow greeted them with suspicion that quickly softened under Jack Stoutfellow’s hospitality.

Seated beneath the trellis of their farmhouse, the adventurers heard the farmers’ tale: scarecrows, restless at night, seen shambling from the snowy hills and wrecking fields in the dark. Proof was scarce, but the fear was real.

Jack and Mary offered payment in kind—an entire barrel of their prized Stealthily Reserve cider, a rare vintage coveted in the city. All they asked was peace of mind, an end to the midnight terrors that haunted their land.

Shadows Gathering

The bargain struck, the adventurers prepared to face the unknown. Somewhere out there in the fields and orchards, something stirred—a presence in the dark waiting to be unmasked.

The scarecrows hadn’t yet shown themselves, but the seeds of fear were already sown.