After the successful attempt to board, yet unsuccessful attempt to enter, but still successful attempt to set fire to the airship in Owl’s Head we fled from the scene of the smoldering carnage and made our way to Jaanaford where we could clear our minds over a fishing distraction.

Truth be told, the “fisherman” of Jaanaford don’t seem to know a rock from a fish and have chosen their locations quite poorly. No wonder nothing is ever on their lines and they feast on nothing but anger. I also couldn’t help but notice some sort of brown bottle or canteen carefully concealed in the cooling waters. I’m not sure what it is, perhaps some sort of secret fish attractant, but they were awfully protective of it. Alley knew of a better spot, certain to yield more positive results.

However, the fishing trip was interrupted as we stumbled upon a sacrificial hot tub. What should have been a place to relax, unwind with a mug of ale, and drift away to the melodies of a wax cylinder or two, turned out to be a place of death and destruction.

While I compliment the owner on their choice of high end hot tub and the use of marble blocks to make a lovely deck and relaxing platform, the harmony was disrupted by the bodies and chunks of flesh strewn about the place. Not to mention the sacrificial alter that had been placed on a rise. The horror! The humanity! The smell! Wait, is that onion?

And there, overseeing the whole preceding was a merchant, who was no doubt selling tickets to this wicked spectacle! He was sensibly tight-lipped about the whole affair and revealed nothing about the true intention of this outdoor soiree gone wrong.

Even the Grim Reaper looked on, no doubt smacking his lips in preparation for the next victim to wander in. So beware my friends! If you make it out to Jaanaford and someone buys you a few ales then makes comment about how you should adjourn to the more relaxing confines of the hot tub, just say no! It could turn out that the hot tub is nothing but a large cooking pot and you’ll find yourself face down amidst an array of herbs and spices.

You’ll be coming over for dinner all right!

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Well, this is quite a lovely little … my good heavens what goes on here?! Egads, it’s the Grim Reaper himself overseeing some cauldron of boiling liquid that he torments his chosen victims with! It’s all far too diabolical!

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From on top of the attached adobe dwelling you can get a bird’s eye view of the proceedings. I mean who doesn’t want a front row seat when dinner is served right out of the pot?

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I can’t say I condone this sort of behavior, but that is a pretty sweet looking rack of ribs. And I see you have a festive condiment bar at the ready. I might be going out on a limb here, and again, I can’t condone this sort of things, but is that the bartender over there? What might be on tap Isaac my good man?

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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