In Search of a Finder in the Town of the Sour Well

From a distance, we could see the town. There were low buildings and a pokeout -- a reminder of the cataclysm that covered this world in lava rock.

At the town limits were narrow lookout towers, made of stone and wood. Two riders on lizard approached us. They wore floppy hats and badges to identify them as deputies. They did not seem hostile -- just curious.

"Are you going in to Sour Well?" one asked.

"The sheriff runs a tight ship," the other proclaimed. "No funny business."

We explained that we were merely travelers seeking shelter.

"Feel free to throw around your money," they advised, eying our clothes and equipment. It was clear that we were wealthy enough to afford some powerful armor and weapons.

The town was small (less than 100 inhabitants) but active. There was a mix of races -- Dragonborn, Halflings, Humans, Half-Elves, and Dwarves. Some walked together in groups. Perhaps these were parties such as our own. Not many had bows and arrows -- many had the iron wands that we saw earlier.

At the General Store, we bought working clothes, so that we would not stand out. Nearby, we found a maker of the iron wands. We purchased one with a bone handle, carved from a lizard. We also bought the magical powder (which made the wand work) and a couple hundred metal balls (which the iron wand shot into the air). We were pointed in the direction of an armorer in town who could enchant our weapons.

As we walked to the armorer, we passed by a pokeout. A guard was standing in front of the door to the pokeout.

"What is in there?" we asked.

"A spent pokeout," he explained. "It's been here as long as the town has been here. If you want, it could be arranged to get you entrance to tihs pokeout." We politely declined and continued on.

The armorer was a gruff dwarf who complained about our manner of speaking. "You talk funny," he remarked. We explained that we were not from around here.

We spoke a bit about making magical weapons. He knew of a ritual that would transfer the magical enchantment from one weapon to another. He agreed to take gold as payment, as long as he could verify that the gold was pure.

He also had heard of a tavern that was popular and that we might be interested in. We walked over there and asked the tavern owner if there was a room to rent. He replied that there was a room but that he'd have to kick out the current tenant.

The room cost 4 gp to stay, and we'd need food and drink. The water from the well tasted better now (perhaps the curse was over). The food would be more expensive, since it was created magically.

The tavern owner advised us to wait at a table while he cleared out the room for us. Nearby, two Finders were talking to each other about a blip yesterday. During this blip, something went away and came back.

Carlagnios, our Dragonborn Fighter, wanted to intimidate them to get some information. Firinne, our Half-Elven Paladin, suggested a diplomatic approach instead. She and Garg, our Half-Elven Warlord, asked the Finders about the "blip".

"You wouldn't know -- you're not a Finder," one of them replied.

Carlagnios decided to intimidate them but the Finders seemed unconvinced. "Why not just sit down with us and have a beer?" one asked.

During this time, Ryn, our Eladrin Warlock, noticed an elf standing by the door. The elf quickly left, and Ryn tried to follow him but lost the elf in the streets.

Back in the tavern, one of the Finders introduced himself as Caleb. We asked Caleb about life in these lands and about pokeouts. "You go out into the Waste and find things. Sometimes you find a good pokeout, and once in a while, you find a useful item in it. You want to get the book on it."

"You can last a short trip without a Feeder," he continued. "If you want to learn how to be a Feeder, you need to learn the right rituals."

He eyed us closely, as if trying to judge our worth. "Some folks just go out and come back, honky tonky. They're not serious about killing."

At that point, there was a yell from outside. It was the elf that Ryn had seen. The elf was yelling at us.

"Come out and meet justice! They killed Lyle!"