Brazen Wolfe Tabletop

Battle for Botanica

511MoBaBo

As the sun hit the village of Morrowell the lush greens of the leaves and the myriad of colours from the flowers instantly told the party they were in the right place. Morrowell was famous for the plants and occasional fungi that the village cultivated under the watchful and caring eye of the head druids. The village itself a central hub where dozens of neighbouring villages came to partake in the Festival of Botanica.

The party had come to Morrowell as some of the rarest herbs and medicinal plants could be found within the small community. However their timing could not have been better as the festival was well under way. Anyone could participate and the rules were simple. Grow a plant and if the druid circle ruled it unique, healthy and important enough they would add it to the cultivated gardens within the village.

The single story houses were a mixture of mudbrick and wood woven together to give it and earthy and natural feel. It was to no one surprise that elves, halflings and gnomes were the primary races that inhabited the village. As the party walked down the only street within the village they noticed that either side of the walkway – as long as it wasn’t blocking a doorway there were large wooden crates and barrels that housed the plants – leading towards a large tiered hill that was the cultivated gardens of the druids.

There was a small tavern, general store and blacksmith that only had farming and gardening implements amongst the houses and the village was filled with people enthusiastically talking about their plants to whoever would stop to listen to them. a few large plants caught the parties eye as the vibrant colours indicated that they would have come from a tropical forest rather than where they were. As the party were drawn to it mutterings from other gardeners indicated that this was the least favourite plant by the growers – but the enthusiastic crowd painted it in a different light.

Large vines wrapped around the lip of the barrel it resided within and a few tuberous looking flowers were on the cusp of opening. A dizzying scent could be smelt which appeared to attract the bee’s flies and even beetles from their hiding place to come and investigate what could be making the smell.

‘It’s not from round here pops.’ one halfling said as the owner, a human, talked excitedly how he found the little tendrils in a bag of beans he had bought from a distant merchant.

‘A plant like that wouldn’t live in these places if it wasn’t for magic, ‘gainst the rules that is. Filthy cheat.’ the older man muttered to the younger. The party had to agree but the man insisted that he cared for it like any other plant. Sunshine, good soil and lots of water and fertiliser is all that he said he gave the plant. But there were many others gardeners who were busy spreading rumours about the man and his nearly too colourful plant.

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