SWORD &

BACKPACK:
THE YOUNG ADVENTURER’S ALMANAC

THE COLLECTED BROADSHEETS

From ROTHBARD & GAZPUS
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From the Introduction, “Essential Tools of the Adventurer’s Trade”:

It is the opinion of the authors of this book that any adventurer worthy of the title must

possess, at the bare minimum, two essential items to prosecute their trade successfully. They

must have a sword and a backpack.

Neither item need be expensive or, for that matter, enchanted. Gold and silver do not

necessarily purchase quality, and enchanted items are oftentimes more trouble than they are

worth, especially to a novice. Enchanted swords tend to have arcane rules about their use

and care, and often have obstinate attitudes; a backpack that has been magicked to hold an

infinite amount of items can make its owner lazy and reluctant to winnow down their

possessions down to an important minimum. Too many choices can be distracting, and

distraction tends to make one creature bait.

A rusty sword – perhaps one inherited from a long-lost uncle who mysteriously appears

for dinner one evening and is gone before breakfast the following morning – will do, as will

a musty old backpack riddled with holes. After all, tarnished blades can be sharpened and

polished, and needle and thread are widely available to patch up a backpack. In fact, their

meager origins might give their owner the grateful advantage of humility over those who

possess the latest and most expensive items from the adventurer’s shop. But cost is besides

the point: when an intrepid dungeon crawler is stuck between a dragon and a hard place;

when a crafty rogue is fleeing across a city’s rooftops from agile, scimitar-wielding,

necromancer-cursed skeletons; when a shrewd sorcerer is hunting for eldritch spell books in

the haunted library of an ancient, dead city, two modest possessions are often the sole things

that stand between them and certain, unpleasant death: a sword and a backpack.

So: Acquire them, care for them and, above all, respect them, and they in turn will do

their part in keeping you hale, hearty and ready for questing, wilderness exploration,

dungeon-crawling, monster-fighting, and sundry other heroic escapades.

No. 1 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Chapter 1, “Choosing an Adventuring Profession”:

Some call them ‘vocations,’ and some others prefer the term ‘classes.’ W hatever the

nomenclature, all agree that an adventurer who is new to the profession must focus their

energies on a specific course of study to be most effective in the field (and forest, and

dungeon). Think about it: That cadre of swamp trolls swarming over the hill to raid the village

that hired you to protect them isn’t going to wait for you to decide whether you prefer

wizardry to swordplay, are they? Of course they aren’t, so you must be prepared.

But how does a directionless adventurer find the career map that leads them on the

quest that is an adventuring career? Oftentimes, events from life have already given the

undeclared adventurer signs and portents. Consider these scenarios:

• If as a child you were frequently visited by faerie folk during the full moon, sorcery (or one of its many sub-

disciplines) could be in your future.

• Likewise, if you were raised in a nomadic clan from the Northern Wastes of Darkmount and had to fight your

ten brothers and sisters for a chance to dip your bowl in the camp’s cooking cauldron, you should consider

training as a warrior.

• Orphans who have grown up on the rough streets of great cities like New Elysia or Kammerant, and who

depended on their wits, cunning and charm to survive ought naturally to be attracted to the arts of roguery

and thievery.

These are, of course, just examples. There are many other vocations (tracker, forest

priest and wandering minstrel, to name but a few) that also call young adventurers. And let

us not ignore the fact that many novices these days construct their own specializations, or

adapt and combine traditional disciplines into new ones. The important thing is that one has a

focus. And if you are truly at a loss as to what path to follow, consider what so many have

done before: Roll a pair of bones and follow the path of chance.

No. 2 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Appendix ix, “On the Naming of Weapons”:

There’s a proverb that states, “Sleep on the left side and keep your sword hand free.”

W ise advice, for there’s always trouble awaiting an intrepid adventurer. But what exactly

does that sword hand reach for when danger approaches? A simple tool, or a friend you trust

to stand between you and death? Friends have names, and the true adventurer knows that a

nameless sword is merely a glorified knife. It’s half a weapon. Should you survive your

adventuring career (and even if you do not), the scholars and bards chronicling your exploits

will appreciate having a clever name to hang upon that thing in your scabbard or strapped to

your backpack. Here then are some basic weapon-naming guidelines:

• Trust Your Dreams: If in a dream a mysterious woman rises from a lake, hands you

your weapon and says that its name is ‘Demonsbane,’ who are you to doubt her?

• Obey Your Instincts: Don’t wait for a prophetic dream. If, on the other hand, you look

at your war axe and think, “She looks like a Demonsbane,” then Demonsbane it is.

• Language M atters: A sword named ‘Demonsbane’ is good. A sword named ‘Fan Dun

Dimmir,’ a phrase that roughly translates to ‘Demonsbane’ in the esoteric, ancient

tongue of the sorcerers of the Order of Khel’la is much better.

A named weapon need not be an ancient king’s relic, or have been received as a boon

from an elf queen upon embarking upon a quest. If the sword feels right in your hand, if the

bow is balanced as you take aim, then it’s a worthy weapon. And a worthy weapon deserves

– nay, DEM ANDS – a name. It makes you feel better and it makes the weapon feel better

(especially if the weapon is enchanted and/or hosts of the restless, talkative spirit of a long-

dead sorcerer).

No. 3 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Chapter 4, “The Formation of an Adventuring Party”:

Unless you are thoroughly anti-social or hopelessly arrogant, you will find that in

adventuring there is safety in numbers. Adventurers who tend to be of a solitary and

melancholy humor are encouraged to consider becoming Grim W anderers, warrior-sorcerers

who are trained to fend for themselves and spend extended periods alone in stark wilderness

communing with no one save hermits, fell beasts and the occasional spirit animal. Their

solitude saves them from enduring the frivolous company of the less stoic, and saves the less

stoic from enduring their depressing companionship. And the arrogant? W ell, they tend to die

off rather quickly at the hands of unimpressed and vicious monsters. As for everyone else, we

believe they should consider becoming a member of an adventuring party.

There is no set model or paradigm for an adventuring party. It can be as large as a

unit of a ragtag army or as small as a pair of bosom friends. It can be a coven of sorcerers

(spooky), a pack of rogues (shifty) or a cadre of warriors (smelly), but it is our experience

that one of the most effective models of an adventuring party is a trio consisting of one

W arrior, one Sorcerer and one Rogue. It is a group small enough to be able to travel lightly

and with speed, and large enough to take on most threats of the mundane and supernatural

variety. Some readers might be familiar with the simple children’s game known as “W arrior,

Rogue and Sorcerer” [see Chapter 17, “Entertainment W hen Not Facing Danger”] in which

two opponents deploy hand signals meant to represent one of the vocations: W arrior beats

Rogue, Sorcerer beats W arrior and Rogue beats Sorcerer. It’s an elegant system that contains

much wisdom. Not only does it comment on the strengths and weaknesses of each vocation, it

underlines how interdependent they are. An adventuring party made up of the trinity does not

guarantee success, fortune, and easy dragonslaying, but it doesn’t hurt one’s chances, either.

W e also recommend that an adventuring party should have a name (in the manner of a

weapon or a band of minstrels) and a simple symbol, sigil or crest that can sewn into a patch

or easily scratched onto the walls of a dungeon.

No. 4 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Chapter 7, “On Orcs, Goblins and Other ‘Evil’ Races”:

In other sections of this book, you will find helpful information about the many

different sorts of creatures, beasties and monsters an adventurer is likely to encounter during

their career. You will find in-depth anthropological data about their cultural customs, their

favored weapons and systems of magic (should you find yourself facing them in combat), and

many more aspects of their natural lives. W hat you won’t find, however, are hard and fast

designations of what these creatures’ moral stances are based simply on what they were born

as. M any other textbooks and manuals traffic in this sort of monster-profiling nonsense,

assigning an entire sentient species or race an “alignment” and painting them in moral broad

strokes. Orcs? Vile. Goblins? Evil (and craven, to boot). The list goes on.

There are many reasons why this is wrong. First of all, it is lazy and it makes

adventurers lazy, and a lazy adventurer is a dead adventurer. Second, it is moronic, and a

moronic adventurer is also a dead adventurer. You may cry foul and say, “How then am I

supposed to tell if a traveling warband of orcish barbarians mean me and my companions

harm?” Our response would be, “Don’t be lazy. Use your brain and observe. Never assume.”

Casting the entirety of a thinking race of creatures into rigid categories of morality is the

basest sort of prejudice. Let us ask you this: If you are human, do you assume that because

you consider yourself good that all other humans share your upstanding nature? Of course

not! And consider these examples: The Order of Vile M agicians of the Grey M ountains, an

organization that makes an effort to let those they terrorize know that they consider

themselves to be irredeemably and wholly evil, limit their membership exclusively to humans.

And the Friars of Karroc W ood, warrior druids who conserve and protect that majestic

western forest and who bid all peaceful travelers welcome? Founded five hundred years ago

by the orc M aggur Barket, with membership open to any good-hearted lover of the green, no

matter what race they happened to be born as. Ponder these lessons.

No. 5 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Chapter 11, “The Myth of the Magus ex Machina”:

“Let the sorcerer fix it.”

If we had a coin or gem for every time that phrase was uttered when things became

difficult during an adventure, we’d be sitting atop a dragon’s hoard. Alas, things are not

often resolved with such ease. In fact, there is a saying that originated in the District

Dramatica of the grand city of Lanternport that describes taking the skills of the mystically

inclined for granted. Oftentimes in plays about grand adventure, the plot becomes so absurd

and labyrinthine, the situation so fantastical and knotty, that the playwright, instead of doing

what is hard and necessary and rewriting the mess, has a wizard come in (usually lowered

onto the stage held aloft by hidden ropes and accompanied by spectacular fireworks of

saltpeter and smoke concocted by the theater’s resident Lucifer Engineer), cast a spell or two,

and solve everyone’s problem. Dragon vanquished, lovers reunited, kingdom saved, cue the

orchestra, The End. This dramaturgical technique has become so common that it is now known

as the M agus ex M achina, or the “sorcerer from the machine.” Very convenient, undeniably

handy, and extremely unlikely.

Sorcerers have problems, just like you. They are capable of very impressive feats of

wizardry, but they are fallible. They get tired, they get cranky, they get depressed and, in the

end, they can only do so much. It is magic they work, not miracles. If it’s divine intervention

you’re seeking, get a cleric and prepare to endure some preaching. Otherwise, respect the

sorcerer’s craft and fear their power, but don’t think of it as a “Get Out of Dungeon Free”

card. And definitely don’t wait for some ancient and powerful enchanter to come to your aid,

either. They aren’t sitting around their aeries idly scrying into their orbs and hoping to spy a

band of adventurers in a fix who might need a helping hand. And if they do happen to be

watching and are bored, they might get a good laugh watching you die (nigh-immortal

warlocks tend to have inscrutable senses of humor). Depend on them at your peril.

No. 6 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Chapter 15, “The Path to Choose When You Are Not ‘The
Chosen One’”:
W hen you were born, were your parents visited by a conclave of wise mages from the
Order of the Eternal Torch? Do you have a birthmark that resembles the ancient sigil of the
W arrior King of the W est? Are you regularly visited by animals of all types who speak to you
in the common tongue and swear their eternal allegiance to you as you lead the Luminous
Legion in the upcoming battle against the forces of Lord and Lady Tenebrae of the Screaming
Darkness?
Odds are you answered “no” to the above questions, and for that you have our
congratulations, for you are not a Chosen One. Count your blessings, adventurer, for you
have dodged fate’s arrow. Prophecies are a copper a dozen. Any itinerant soothsayer,
ancient forest-dwelling crone or talking mirror can spout endless omens about special children
who are supposed to save the world. M ost of these people are, thankfully, full of dung. But
some of them do have the true gift, and it is our opinion that, more often than not, they
should keep their true gift to themselves.
Do not envy The Chosen One. Do not regret being passed over when The Chosen One
was selected. The Chosen One has an arranged marriage with Destiny. W hen The Chosen
One is a good, kindly soul, they’re often haunted by an oppressive sense of destiny and duty,
and over their heads there often hangs an air of gloom and doom so powerful that it is almost
visible. After all, if they fail in their mission they’ve been told (over and over and over again)
that the world as they know it will be torn asunder. Their friends also have the annoying
tendency to die, go insane, get transmuted into living statues, or otherwise live terrible lives.
And when it is discovered that The Chosen One is self-import and arrogant prat, it can be
enough to make you cheer for the armies of evil to be victorious. Thankfully, this is a rare
occurrence.
Revel in your freedom. Your adventures are yours, not scripts written by uncaring and
capricious deities. You can go anywhere you want and take on any quest you choose. Chosen
Ones are certain to have ballads written about their exploits and scribes will exaggerate their
lives in scrolls and tomes. You, on the other hand, can write your own songs and pen your
own tales.
But Freedom from Responsibility does not mean that you are free from responsibility;
lack of a prophecy hanging over your head is no excuse not to be noble, kind, or otherwise
generally heroic.
So if you are ever approached by a dusty madman with an odd look in his eye who
begins his address to you by saying, “It has been foretold...” then we suggest that you run
away from them as fast as you possibly can, preferably in the direction of a dungeon,
haunted ruin or enchanted forest, in search of an adventure with an ending that is uncertain.
And if you actually are a Chosen One? Our deepest sympathies.

No. 7 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Chapter 8, “On Treasure, Wealth and Mystical Artifacts”:

Adventuring is expensive, and there is no shame in collecting the various gems, coins,
enchanted artifacts and other assorted treasures found in dungeons near and far in order to
finance your travels and purchase better supplies and equipment, not to mention pay for
rounds of ale at the tavern and a more comfortable room at the inn. W e would advise all
readers of this book to save what loot they are able in anticipation of the day when they are
hopefully able to retire as peaceful farmers, or live in comfort as castle-dwelling hermits shell-
shocked from their harrowing encounters with W yrmkings, Spider-Goddesses and Elder Liches.
In this chapter we hope to edify you about the various items you might be acquiring and
perhaps give you a sound grounding in the economic realities of your chosen profession.
But before we proceed there is a line that we hope you will not cross (and that we
know some of you will), and that line is greed. Of all the character traits unbecoming a TRUE
adventurer, lust for wealth and riches almost rivals that of lust for blood.
Consider for a moment the story of Tarran of the Vale. Yes, the old fable you might
have heard by the hearth when you were young. Remember it again. How Tarran was young
and strong and brave; how he fought and caroused with four of his closest friends as the Five
Companions and had many fantastic adventures; how on one of these adventures he and his
company were captured by a gang of bandits; and how, when given the choice between
death or joining the bandits, Tarran saw which way the wind was blowing and the way the
coin was flowing and chose to join the bandits; how he took up arms against his four former
friends when they attempted to escape their imprisonment and how he helped slay them; how
Tarran rose to the rank of leader of those bandits; and how, after a long career of pillage,
plunder and murder, he was finally brought to justice and slain in single combat by the
youngest brother of one of his four former friends; and how that brother located every single
one of Tarran’s vaults and secret caves, emptied them all of every last bit of Tarran’s ill -
gotten gains and how he took that fortune and built the majestic College of the Four
Companions in Lanternport, which has four hundred years stood as the finest adventurer’s
educational facility in this or any other known land and which, to this day, is free of charge
to attend for anyone who can prove their mettle and heart. Remember this story well.
And should the time ever come when the wealth you have obtained begins to lose its
luster but you aren’t quite ready to lay down your sword and backpack, we recommend that
you embark upon what we call an Ephemeral Quest. The point of an Ephemeral Quest is quite
simple: Adventure with negative monetary gain. You begin as a wealthy and successful
adventurer and, if all goes properly awry, you end as a poor, unencumbered and hopefully
enlightened one, having spent your time giving away treasure to those who need it instead of
acquiring treasure for those who don’t care about it, seeing new vistas for the sake of
appreciating them rather than looting them, and fighting battles because they are battles
worth fighting and not simply means to an economic end.

No. 8 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Chapter 13, “On the Exploration of Strange Forests, Ancient

Dungeons, Haunted Keeps and Their Ilk”
Adventurers cannot exist without adventures. This is self-evident. In this chapter we will

attempt to codify, analyze and offer advice for the many types of adventures that can be had,

with an emphasis on the numerous physical settings in which they can occur. To begin with,

though, we would like to manage some expectations.

If you are skilled (or exceedingly unlucky), there will come a time when you and a

brave company of friends will have to unroll some dusty old maps and embark upon a journey

across snowy mountain ranges and dusty plains in order to foil the dark plans of Ancient Evil

in a faraway land. W hen the situation calls for it you should by all means take up the burden

of an Epic Quest. But before you go, become wise in the ways of the places to which you will

be traveling. Study customs and geography. Familiarize yourself with the culture and the

language. It takes experience and empathy for an adventuring party to know how to tread

lightly when on a far-ranging escapade, and unfortunately most companies lack even the most

basic adventuring etiquette. They are the types to loudly denigrate foreign cultures, complain

about strange food, and leave magical wreck and ruin (and disgruntled natives) in their

clumsy, fortune-seeking wake. The ancient sage Jarvis of Arabacus said it best when he

quipped, “Everybody hates an adventure tourist.”

Recognize that danger – and opportunity– is in your backyard. Beneath your feet?

Caverns of Chaos, possibly crammed to the stalactites with creatures and gold. Atop the

storm-shrouded peaks on the horizon? Odds are that there sits an ominously crumbling castle

that’s home to a soul-sucking lich. And in those woods just over the hills and not-so far away?

You might discover that the Unseelie Court that lives therein has been stealing babies in the

night from a nearby village, babies that are in dire need of rescuing. The possibilities within a

couple days march are most likely limitless.

In short: Think epically, quest locally.

No. 9 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Chapter 17, “Entertainment When Not Facing Danger”

Of all the untruths told about the adventuring profession, the greatest lie might be that

it is a job of non-stop excitement. This, sadly, is untrue.

The truth is that for every day you spend saving the world by banishing Old Gods back

to their own Dark Dimension, you’ll spend ten days looking through the stacks of the

Librarium Infinitum for obscure grimoires with the necessary spells, locating the hideout of the

Old God cultists, and so on. Hikes across the countryside between town and dungeon are

picturesque, but they can also be very dull. It is important, then, that adventurers know how

to amuse themselves during periods of tedium. This chapter covers games of skill and chance

for cards, bones, and more, but an adventurer’s best friend is the ancient child’s game known

as “Rogue, Sorcerer and W arrior.” The rules are simple: two opponents count to three while

pumping closed-fists; on the fourth count, each makes one of these ancient symbols:

fig.1, “The Rogue’s Lift” fig.2, “The Sorcerer’s Spell” fig.3, “The Warrior’s Sword”

Rogue beats Sorcerer by snatching an important spell component from them whilst they

are unaware; Sorcerer beats W arrior by engulfing them in a magical cone of fire before they

can bring their sword to bear; W arrior beats Rogue by bashing them senseless or otherwise

maiming them. Choosing the same symbol forces a rematch. M atches of “Rogue, Sorcerer and

W arrior” often devolve into heated arguments amongst adventuring companies, and we say

that the ensuing debates over W HY one symbol defeats another are half of the fun.

No. 10 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Appendix i, “The Right and Proper Backpack Kit”:

A backpack is only as useful as its contents. The items that fill its various pouches and

compartments can save you from danger, and the lack of something crucial can doom you to

certain death. So care must be taken in all aspects of your backpack’s maintenance, external

and internal. It should be proofed against the elements, its straps should be sturdy yet

comfortable, and it should be overall aesthetically pleasing to the owner. But it is what’s on

the inside that truly separates true adventurers from hikers on an afternoon jaunt. Space

inside is at a premium, so the selection of necessities is an art unto itself. Proper packing is a

subject adventurers will argue over endlessly. In fact, one of the most requested bard songs

in taverns across the land is the epic comedic round “The Tale of the Halfling’s Rucksack,”

which covers that exact subject. This, then, is our contribution to the debate, an

overcompensating (yet possibly incomplete) list of Backpack Essentials:

• Copy of this book • Torches (3)

• Pulp adventure epic • Cooking, lamp oil (1 flask each)

• Rations (3 days) • Pipe, pipeweed

• Cook pot or frying pan • Length of leather twine

• Salt and herbs • Rope

• Short dagger • Sturdy hide gloves

• Brass knuckles • Bedroll of woolen blankets

• Dice • Weatherproof cloak

• Cards (playing & divination) • Healing salves and powders

• Bone flute (or similar instrument) • Magnifying glass

• Scribing sticks, blank tome • Extra cloth for patching

• Chalk/charcoal (for sigil writing) • Stout needle & catgut thread

• Flask for liquor and/or water • A hidden compartment

• Flint and tinder • Emergency gold pieces (5)

No. 11 IN A SERIES
 SWORD &
BACKPACK
(Being a series of broadsheet excerpts from the famed textbook Sword & Backpack: The Young
Adventurer’s Almanac (fifth edition), published by Rothbard & Gazpus and presented in this public
forum for entertainment and edification.)

From Appendix vi, “A Meal Fit For an Adventurer”

A fellowship quests on its stomach. The adventurer’s deadliest enemy is not a red dragon,
hidden traps, or a legion of hungry kobolds, it’s the dulling of wits caused by a growling
stomach. It’s not always possible to tuck in for a meal at a wayfarer’s rest or comfortable inn,
so adventuring companies must be ready to make do for themselves at a moment’s notice. To
that end, you must know how to make Questing Stew.

W hile no one knows who made the first Questing Stew, scholars agree that the basic concept
is hundreds of years old. Today, practically every adventuring company worth their salt has
their personal version the recipe. In fact, every year during the Harvestfeast celebrations in
Lanternport, the Tavern of the Resting Sword hosts a Questing Stew Cook-Off, in which
companies compete to win gold and treasure in a competition judged by a panel of
Lanternport’s worthiest and most notorious. It’s an epic, all-day revel that all should attend at
least once in their lives, so start honing your skills now:

BASIC QUESTING STEW

INGREDIENTS: Oil; a decent portion of meat for each member of the party; carrots or
potatoes gathered from a friendly Halfling farmer; wild onions and garlic, mushrooms (non-
poisonous), celery, and other roots and savories according to taste or what’s at hand; salt,
pepper; Adventurer’s Friend spice mélange; fresh spring water; a good bit of wine in a skin.

THE M ETHOD: The W arrior in the party slays the meat (game fowl, wild hog, deer, or even
the odd reptile.) The Rogue peels and chops vegetables with a dagger on an upturned shield.
The Sorcerer starts the fire and heats the oil in a cookpot. W hen the oil is hot, add the
portion of meat, salted and peppered, and cook until browned. Add vegetables (carrots,
potatoes, garlic, onions, mushrooms, etc.). M ix thoroughly, cooking until vegetables are soft
and seasoning liberally with Adventurer’s Friend (this mix’s origins are traced to the kitchens
of the Grand M arket in Lanternport, where cuisines from kingdoms near and far freely mixed
and intertwined; legend has it that Adventurer’s Friend can make the meanest trail food into a
feast, and turns the finest food into ambrosia; it is sold readymade by many merchants, but it
is just as easy to make on one’s own by combining one part cinnamon, allspice, cayenne
pepper and coriander; two parts thyme and salt; four parts cumin. Store well and it will keep
over the course of many quests.) Once vegetables are cooked, add wine. Using a cook
spoon, scrape up as much debris sticking to the bottom of the pot as possible and then add
water and simmer. W ait. Have a pipe and talk of many things. Use your senses: smell the
stew, taste the stew. Once it’s cooked to satisfaction, serve.

No. 12 IN A SERIES