Last time on RPG Recap, our Pathfinder crew was on a world-saving quest, and also recently acquired transport in the form of a carriage with no horses (thanks to Bonny and Totok’s bar hopping adventure). We rented horses and took the carriage to our next destination, another neighboring kingdom with a quest to be had. As the rain began to fall, we came to a nice inn and stable, which appeared as cozy as it was abandoned. The party debated whether we should stay or ride out the dangerous storm. The thunder worsened as if in reply.
Bonny used her scry spell to see a half-hour into the future — very useful for predicting misfortune. She saw herself enjoying some hard liquor by the fireplace, and said, “It’s safe,” and strolled on in. We parked the horses and carriage in the stable and got settled inside.
Immediately we knew something wasn’t right: on the center table in the main tavern was a jug with ten coins inside, and a note that said something along the lines of, “Ten Per Patron,” or something otherwise cryptic I can’t recall at present. The inn appeared to have no other patrons, and no staff. We got to debating whether it was a self-sustaining magic inn, or a haunted house, or something worse, but just to be safe we each hucked ten gold into the jug.
As we explored the inn, we kept finding oddities, the biggest one being that all the books on the shelves were filled with nonsense. As we began to take votes on whether we should leave right away, Finn the Thief was attacked in the kitchen by a bunch of hungry plates which had suddenly sprouted mouths. Then the chairs and tables all came alive and attacked us. And the books. And the bookcases. And the door, which wouldn’t let us leave.
Then the entire house began to move, roaring like a t-rex.
During the ensuing chaos, Aros the Dragonborn tried to make the best of the situation and grabbed the jug full of our fifty-odd coins. The jug proceeded to bite the shit out of him, while the ten original coins inside sprouted spidery legs, crawled up his arm, and sank their fangs into his face and neck. I don’t remember how we got him out of that one, but he shrieked like a cheerleader.
Long story short, we gave the giant mimic indigestion until it opened the door and let us leave. We then stood in the pouring rain and watched as the inn picked up and walked away on several awkward woodeny legs, vanishing into the forest and leaving us totally without shelter.
“We can take shelter in my carriage!” said Bonny, as she turned and found an empty lot where the stable, horses, and carriage used to be. The party then could scarcely make out the stable itself, a half mile ahead of the house as it also fled, still chewing on the last of our carriage and horses.
We kept expecting to run into the inn again every couple of miles, wondering if it would recognize us and take off running like a conman caught in the act.
Mike's Toybox 