:: Loot Batch #1 ::

Now that I've had some time to use my random People, Places, and Things generator for a bit, I've found that it's really efficient to just run up one page of "Things" at a time, print it out, cut up the items, and hand them out to my players as needed. Because each "batch" contains one weapon, one armor, one slot item, one grimoire, and so on, they are also really great for describing what a given auto-generated NPC might have on them (omitting the things that don't make sense, like armor on a mage).

For this reason, when it comes time to dole out loot, I usually describe the items as being on some dead adventurer who met their fate facing the challenge I just got done putting in front of the PCs.

"You fall down the pit, being impaled by the spikes at the bottom. Next to you lies the body of a dead adventurer, a spike impaling his skull. He's wearing some pretty nice gear, though, and you think you could salvage some of it...once you get off the spikes yourself..."

Got a big monster? Even better.

"As your finishing blow slices across the chimera's belly, the contents of its stomach spill out as well. Besides an assortment of crunched and chewed animal parts, you see a mostly-intact corpse that the chimera seems to have swallowed whole. Most of the adventurer's gear has survived the stomach acid for this long, and is probably still usable..."

So, here's your first batch of loot. Give it to one or two NPCs, dead or alive, and enjoy!
~Jay

:: Riverkirk, Coastal Thorp ::

Established where the river empties into the sea, Riverkirk is a hot, blasted thorp on the coast with a population of only 13: four humans, three ranai, two córeans, and a pigfolk, plus relatives. Nearly all the residents are merchants, and to the casual visitor it seems to have been a travelling co-op that forgot to pick up and keep moving one day.

Two of the merchants—Carina of "Carina's Unsurpassed Earplugs", and Dural of "The Charging Sticks"—are candlemakers, and each will say they were the first to offer their services to Riverkirk and the other is just a latecomer. Carina clearly just wants to make an honest living, but Dural seems to have less-than-savory motives...

Those who wander away from the sound of this debate and venture to the river to fill their waterskins might find a silver breastplate waiting at the riverbottom. Whose is it, and how recently did it arrive there? Would anyone notice if it went missing?

If you ask Joaquim, the miner, if there are any interesting places nearby, she will show you her broken leg and tell you about the hidden entrance near the barrow that leads down into the mine she's just discovered. She says there was a cave in and a helpless ranai was stuck inside only a day ago. She was trying to rescue the frog-folk herself when a rock crushed her leg. None of Riverkirk's other residents are willing to help. All of Joaquim's notes are documented in her journal "A Record of the Hidden Entrance Near the Barrow" which she will gladly sell you for only two gold (1 gp and 5 sp if you will promise to save the frog-folk within).

:: Knut, Buffalofolk Cavalier ::

For those who don't know, I'm a middle school Spanish and Latin teacher, and one thing we do every semester is choose which electives we want to teach. Reprising a popular elective from last year, I went with D&D! Well, Pathfinder, but the young'uns know what D&D is in principle so I just went with that.

For their first day, I helped them come up with class and race for their characters and auto-genned this one as an example. So, enjoy Knut, the buffalo-folk cavalier, soon to make an appearance in a middle-school D&D elective near me!

~Jay

:: Calufray and the Wonderful Pitcher, Ch. 9 ::

Chapter 9 and Epilogue

(Plot 8 and Falling Action)

Only then did Nizhoni come to, lifting his face from the mud into which it had slid so unceremoniously. When he looked up, the people of Cadfelham had surrounded him and Master Folger and his officers were nowhere to be found. Nizhoni hung his head.

“Calufray,” he said. Calufray joined the center of the circle. “There is something you need to know about that pitcher—it was made by my mother, Cadfel.” The crowd murmured in astonishment. “She was the sheriff of Cadfelham before you were born, and the namesake of the hamlet.

“Her mate was Methoataske, a siren woman who came to land to be with her, giving up her home to be human. My mother was happy, but she spent more and more time with Methoataske, and less with me. I didn’t have any friends in the hamlet—certainly no other sirens lived here. I was an outcast in my own home.

“One day my mother made that pitcher and gave it to Methoataske as a gift. My mother had never given me anything. I knew she didn’t want me anymore, let alone the people of the hamlet. I ran away.”

:: Calufray and the Wonderful Pitcher, Ch. 8 ::

Chapter 8

(Plot 7)

Calufray entered the sheriff’s quarters, well hidden by the tarp and the clothes lent to him by the astronomer on the mountain. The room was full of cheerful laughter, as if the last twenty minutes hadn’t happened. Calufray overheard Nizhoni’s voice:

“Can you believe it? She’s always been that hot-tempered. If she ever ran out of fuel for her oven, she could bake bread just by breathing on it!” Several belly laughs cascaded across the room. “It’s too bad her husband was taken by the fire…” The conversation in Nizhoni’s corner died down to a low murmur. Calufray bent a keen ear that direction. Nizhoni’s voice broke the silence: “If she’d tossed him in the firepit, she’d at least have a loaf or two to show for it!” Nizhoni cackled alone, but no other laughs joined in. “Come on, men, it’s all for a la—whoof!”

Calufray’s fist had slammed into Nizhoni’s gut. Immediately, the contents of the siren’s stomach emptied out of his mouth and he doubled over, supporting himself with the webbed hand that still gripped his tankard. The room, already quiet, fell more silent still. Several officers began to edge toward the door.

:: Calufray and the Wonderful Pitcher, Ch. 7 ::

Chapter 7

(Plot 6)

The steady light drizzle quickly chilled Calufray’s bones as his own world transitioned from flowing iridescent wisps to the solid, colorful reality he knew. There was the same familiar mountain he had called home once, but it was a new hamlet that greeted him.

The magical eagle circled Cadfel Cove, granting Calufray a commanding view of the new pier that had been built over the ring of stones and what he assumed was Master Folger’s ship docked to it. The clipper had its sails bound, its anchor away, and a trail of shiphands hauling goods to the shore where another trail of souls—the hamlet-folk themselves—carried them off to the hamlet. From up here the whole operation made Calufray think of a trail of industrious ants invading a model ship for morsels of food.

All of this could not have happened in a day or two; something about the other world he had traveled through on the back of the magical eagle must have distorted time for him, somehow. The dock was one thing, but a large swath of trees near the beach had been cleared away and the newly-built depot that sat in its place told him he had been gone for several weeks, at least. Calufray was uncertain about the exact details, but he suspected that Nizhoni had indeed beaten him back this time. Such a delay might also explain how Nizhoni had arrived at Obeliskdale so quickly, from Calufray’s perspective.

:: Calufray and the Wonderful Pitcher, Ch. 6 ::

Chapter 6

(Plot 5)

Calufray made his way slowly, but deftly, down the slick rock-face into the outskirts of Tin Obeliskdale. He was drenched, of course, for the freshwater falls fell on him the entire way, but at least he had arrived safe and sound.

The windows and sign-poles of the small settlement hung with enchanted banners that featured a moving crest—a quill swooping in a signing motion beside a red “X.” This, Calufray recalled, was the symbol of the deity of Tin Obeliskdale, Opasha, the god of fair dealings. The halflings of the settlement preferred to treat every aspect of life as a contract, whether social or business, spoken or written. This led to every citizen having a prescribed routine that they were obliged to follow.

For example, everyone within a house woke at staggered intervals, prepared and ate meals at staggered intervals, and even used the facilities at staggered intervals. “Better to go and not need to than need to and not go,” was a common saying. All of this was seen as proper protocol and part of the unspoken social agreement of living in the settlement, and resulted in making Obeliskdale quite orderly and efficient.

Calufray watched the dance of routine operate like clockwork around him: a homemaker would shake a dusty rug out of the 2nd-storey window just as a formally-dressed notary would walk underneath, the cloud settling just as the notary passed, avoiding them entirely. Ten steps behind was the notary’s assistant, perfectly synched with the cloud to avoid any unpleasant dusting of professional attire.

As he passed, Calufray supposed that someone in that home had just signed a contract, and always did at this time, on this day of the week. How did he know? He looked around and confirmed: everyone in view had a small tightly-cinched drawstring pouch attached to their waist. But these bags did not hold money, Calufray knew.

:: Calufray and the Wonderful Pitcher, Ch. 5 ::

Chapter 5

(Plot 4)

The swan-folk gulped down a morsel of bread. “Find a good spot?”

“Yes,” said Nizhoni confidently, “the dock can be built right over the circle of stones out in Cadfel Cove.”

Calufray took a big step closer. “That’s the Fairy Circle.” He still had his eye on the Pitcher. It was holding down one corner of the diagrams next to Nizhoni’s hand—like a common paperweight.

Several adults looked over their shoulders at Calufray and laughed lightly.

“Yes, I’m sure the children will be broken up for a few weeks about losing a curious beach spot,” Nizhoni stated matter-of-factly. “After their stomachs are full of the food coming off of Master Folger’s ships—which will be able to make port after we build the dock over those stones—I’m sure they won’t mind so much.”

:: Calufray and the Wonderful Pitcher, Ch. 4 ::

Chapter 4

(Plot 3)

Calufray stayed with the Sisseton tribe for some time. He went on regular patrols with the scouts, comparing his time aboard the Trawler with what he learned of the undersea topography to gain a thorough knowledge of what was both above and below the surface of the Siren’s Sea. The Sisseton introduced him to several troves of supplies and safeguarded treasures kept within the bellies of underwater caverns far below islands that would have been considered unimportant to passing ships. He painstakingly documented everything on waterproof maps—with the promise that he would never divulge the information to any surface-dweller, of course.

During communal time with the tribe, he learned to play a sort of underwater shawm, a haunting instrument he wished he had known those many months earlier, when his father had left the world. He tried and failed many times to compose a dirge in his father’s memory, but nothing he came up with seemed to fit. The music of the Sisseton was far too cheerful for his purposes, and he settled on playing low drones that changed only slightly for minutes at a time. Like his father’s later life, he thought; dull and hardly changing.

“You play like a blobfish,” said Len, one of his scouting partners, poking fun at him. “Cheer up, our watch starts soon.”

:: Calufray and the Wonderful Pitcher, Ch. 3 ::

Chapter 3

(Plot 2)

“Tighten up the mizen, lads!” the captain shouted across the Trawler’s deck. “We don’t want her fallin’ out of her corset so long as this wave keeps up; eyes sharp and ropes tight as she goes!”

The “wave” was the doing of the Wonderful Pitcher, as wielded by Calufray himself. He had leaned out over the ship’s stern and upended it, pouring out an endless spout of seawater. The resulting wave had been pushing the ship faster than their sails could pull them, the sails even slowing them down as the canvas caught the wind rushing past. For this reason the captain commanded the sails be reefed until they reach the Merrow Sea.

“You’re sure about this plan, Cal?” shouted the captain over the roar of the waters rushing from the Wonderful Pitcher.

“Sure as sure, Cap’n. She took my father. I can’t let it stand.”

“The merrows have been a bane on sailors since before the Trawler took her sails,” the captain replied. “I’ll be happy the day we never see another one break the surface. But I can’t say as I understand provoking them.”

“Not all of them, Cap’n. Just the one.”

:: Calufray and the Wonderful Pitcher, Ch. 2 ::

Chapter 2

(Plot 1)

Weeks later, Calufray could be found on the shores of a small island, a passable hut erected from flotsam and palm fronds. Supper was bubbling in the shell of a coconut over the firepit. Calufray was whittling down the tip of what used to be an old oar he found on the beach—now fashioned by him to serve as a spear. He had seen rays swimming in the waters, and was ready to move on from boiled crab.

Leaving supper where it was, he rose and rested his spear over one shoulder. Out of habit, he scanned the horizon, moments later reminding himself that even if the Trawler found him, he didn’t deserve to return to that life. What he had done was…

He adjusted the spear on his shoulder and set out for the shallows where the rays swam.

:: Calufray and the Wonderful Pitcher, Ch. 1 ::

Chapter 1

(FeyGen Prompt #5, Setting, Hero, Rising Action and Major Conflict)

Once upon a time, in the clean overcrowded hamlet of Cadfelham, there lived an old man by the name of Calufray, whose name meant “Violet.” The name was given to him by his father, Wapasha, when Calufray’s mother died in childbirth. Violets, Wapasha knew, were his mate’s favorite flower, and his newborn would remind him of her every time he spoke the name.

It has been many years since then, and Calufray’s life has smelled little of flowers. Growing up on a chilly mountainside, where the rain sprinkled constantly, gave him plenty of opportunity to smell the violets, but Calufray had other things to occupy his mind.

:: FeyGen Prompt #5 ::

SETTING—Calufray's home

Name: Cadfelham

Location: Clean Overcrowded hamlet, kingdom of Aviqming

Environment: Chilly Sprinkly mountain

Prominent Places: sherrif's quarters, Fairy Ring, Pyramid, Signpost

Leader: Cadfel, sheriff

Demographics: Chaotic Evil halflings

Prominent Professionals: Glassblower, Bottler

HERO

Name: Calufray (''Violet'')

Identity: old male human

Physical: Average, Deformed Neck, Repulsive Apparel

Attributes: Strong, Hardy, Foolish, Wavering

Beliefs: Chaotic Good, worships the Primal Spirits

Personality: Well-spoken

Voice: Low, Dead

Motivations

     ''I want to measure up.''

     ''I fear that evil may be necessary.''

Experience

     Class: Fighter

     Craft: Boatwright

     Knowledge: Geography

     Perform: Piper (Shawm)

     Profession: Sailor

     Skills: skilled bully, incapable sneak

Combat: Falchion, Pistol

Good Movement: climb, Bad Movement: swim