Weird Landmarks of Kalyna
Some places don’t just have stories—they make ‘em up
while you’re standing there.”
—Stumpy Magree
The Green Vault
Ukrainian Nickname: Zernohrud (“Seed-Chest”)
Buried beneath layers of earth, encryption, and
half-forgotten prayers lies the Green Vault—a seedbank from before the
Hodgepocalypse, once managed by PryvitGrow, now controlled by the fungal
diplomats known only as the Harvesters. Lush, humid, and alive in unsettling
ways, the Vault is no longer a place of preservation but negotiation: its
aisles of cryo-coffins, arcane hydro-tanks, and whispering flora form a living
archive of crops long lost to the world above. Access is permitted—but only
through “favors” owed, bargains struck, or memories harvested. Those who enter
often leave changed, seeded with more than they came f
Plot Hook:
- A
dying village seeks a drought-proof barley strain rumored to still rest in
Zernohrud’s third chamber, but the Harvester who guards it wants a
song that hasn’t been sung since the war.
- A
former Vault technician-turned-scarecrow has reawakened and begun growing
roots through a nearby town’s dreams—he wants his “archive key” back.
The Painted Crossroads
At this crossroads, the dirt has soaked up so much
spell-chalk, runic ink, and baba footpaint that it’s turned into a living
mural. Roads shift direction overnight, and travelers who pass through might
end up in the past, future, or inside someone else’s folk tale. Locals say you must
sing a verse before crossing—or risk becoming a footnote.
The Root-Choked Chapel
Once a wooden church, now consumed by massive, intelligent
roots. It’s partially aboveground, partially underground, and entirely alive.
The pulpit preaches itself. The pews grow moss cushions. Prayers whispered here
may be answered by the trees, but the cost is never clear until the next full
moon.
The Singing Stove
Deep in an overgrown clearing sits a cast-iron woodstove,
still warm after all these years. No fire needed—it burns on memory. It sings
old songs when fed family recipes, and warps reality slightly with each verse.
Leave stew in it overnight and you may wake up having dreamt a life where
everything went right. Or wrong.
The Weeping Milepost
Carved from old-world concrete and rebar, this roadside
milepost constantly sheds faintly glowing water. Touch it, and you’ll see
visions of those who died traveling—some remembered, some erased. It’s become a
shrine to lost pilgrims, truckers, and adventurers who never made it home.
Sometimes it whispers names in languages no longer spoken.
The Whispering Silo
A solitary grain tower on the vast prairie, its rusted ribs
now hum with other people’s dreams. Those who sleep nearby often wake with
someone else’s memory—sometimes helpful, sometimes tragic, always vivid. The
Silo is said to record the lives of all who pass by and, on rare occasions, answers
questions no one asked aloud.
Kalyna Country Transformed: Post-Apocalyptic Folkloric Map
ong after the world cracked and the stars blinked strangely,
Kalyna Country did not simply endure—it remembered. Woven from ancestral
memory, mutant resilience, and the shattered ley-lines of a forgotten age, this
once-rural land has become a folkloric circuit of survival and spectacle. At
its heart lies the Relic Roadshow—a mystical race across nine enchanted
roadside wonders, each tethered to a sacred artifact tied to the land's soul.
From neon-slick cities to fungal fortresses, psychic duck parks to haunted
sausage plants, each stop tests more than strength—it challenges the heart,
heritage, and humor of those brave enough to walk the path. For some, it’s a
contest. For others, it’s a pilgrimage. But for the land itself, it’s a ritual.
One that keeps the Dreamtime stable… and the foolish entertained.
Andrew: Where the Little Bears Play
Andrew is a quiet pocket of post-Hodgepocalypse tenderness—a
humble town rebuilt by Little Bears, devoted to harmony, community, and
protecting their cubs. With its garlic-scented streets and echoes of a
forgotten premier, this settlement seems almost too soft to survive… and yet it
thrives. Most homes are cozy, compact, and filled with laughter. The enigmatic Mischief
Baba, George Netudyhata, watches over the town like a grandfatherly storm
cloud—equal parts entertainer and enforcer. Despite its friendly tone, Andrew
holds secrets under its soil: haunted grain elevators, flaming obelisks, and
visions sent from the minds of Dreamtime titans. Its greatest trial sends
adventurers beyond its borders, on a quest that tests care over carnage. In
Andrew, the lesson is simple: kindness is not weakness, and the smallest heroes
sometimes guard the biggest relics.
The Giant Duck
Perched in a tranquil park and surrounded by play structures
and laughing children, the Giant Duck exudes an eerie calm—a slumbering
sentinel of dream and memory carved from ancient polymer and imbued with a
soul. This towering yellow relic is more than nostalgia made manifest; it’s a
living node of transfiguration and empathy, echoing the hopes of youth and the
bonds of trust. Unlike its louder cousins on the Relic Roadshow circuit, the
Duck does not demand conquest but communion. To awaken it, one must return its
wandering avatar—a living duck carrying its essence in the form of a
keychain—and ensure it arrives unharmed, body and spirit. This sacred act of
guardianship activates the Duck's magic, offering blessings to those pure
enough to escort it through the madness of Elk Island Eldritch Park. But
beware: even serenity has protectors, and not all birds are gentle.
Ed-Town: Where Every Road Becomes a Stage
The Big city of Kaylna Country, ED-Town is Strathcan’s
beating, boot-stomping heart—a sprawling urban sprawl of busted neon, psychic
festivals, and spiraling ambition. Founded on revelry and reclaimed ruin, the
city thrives as a cross between an open mic apocalypse and a roadside attraction
theme park. Beneath its cracked pavement and modular food trucks lies a
community that runs on spectacle. Everyone is either performing, recording, or
being watched by something arcane. The city’s patron is the Western Baba,
Helen Gretzky, but she rarely shows herself. Instead, she lets the rhythm
roll—her emissaries are punk cowboys, biker mystics, and retail prophets.
Whether you're jamming in the alleys or battling in the backlot arenas, Ed-Town
rewards flair over form, swagger over subtlety. Here, to walk the path of
heroes, you first have to strut it. For
more details of this vibrant place, see the Book of Arrogance.
The Big Boot
Towering like a titan’s castoff and smelling faintly of
ozone and oilskin, the Big Boot is a relic of raw evocation—born in a
decade when glam, grit, and guitar solos ruled the land. Once a roadside photo
stop, it now crackles with storm-forged power, pulsing with every thunderhead
and festival beat that rolls through Strathcan. Legends say it was crafted from
the leather of a dream-ox and stitched by forgotten gods of showmanship. To
attune to the Boot is to earn its rhythm—to stomp, strut, shred, and survive.
But the path to its activation lies through the Big Bad Shop, a gauntlet
of musical mayhem and commercialized chaos run by Size 13 Rage, a family
of minotaur rockers who believe that only the bold—and the loud—deserve the
Boot’s blessing. Pass their tests or face the mosh pit of monsters, lasers, and
style-based reality distortion.
Glendon: The Town That’s Just Trying to Feed You (and Bill You)
Glendon was once a sleepy little town where the most
significant concern was whether the annual garlic butter ran out before the
last tour bus. Home to the world’s most famous Pyrogy, it was a
welcoming—if quirky—stop on the Relic Roadshow. But now, under siege by a
Corpseman platoon, Glendon has traded friendly folk songs for whispered
warnings. While undead checkpoints block the roads and playgrounds are
converted into sniper nests, the townsfolk remain hidden behind closed doors,
quietly rooting for the PCs from behind twitching curtains. If the party
succeeds, they’ll be hailed as heroes with a celebratory meal worthy of
legend—potato, cheddar, sour cream, and pride. Just don’t forget your wallet:
the after-party always ends with a surprise bill. In Glendon, even a
thank-you comes with a receipt.
The Giant Pyrogy
Glistening with steam, anchored to a slanted fork like a
weaponized dumpling of destiny, the Giant Pyrogy is more than a roadside
carb-load—it’s a bastion of community spirit and culinary abjuration. Once a
tourist trap celebrating Eastern European prairie pride, the relic was awakened
during the Hodgepocalypse, infused with defensive magic that makes it resonate
with warmth, welcome, and a hint of passive-aggressive hospitality. Now,
however, it has been compromised. The Corpsemen, ravenous undead
soldiers of warped bureaucracy, seek to hijack its power for necrogastronomic
purposes. To attune to the Pyrogy, the party must reclaim it from siege, defuse
its sabotage mechanisms, and survive both the undead and the awkward locals who
never expected outsiders to save their sacred starch. Only by reclaiming
the relic and honoring its spirit can the heroes earn the Pyrogy Keychain,
a charm that grants resistance to necrotic effects—and indigestion.
Mundare: The Town Where Meat Meets Mysticism
Mundare is a crossroads of clashing powers and salted
legacies. Nestled among cranberry bogs and ritual farmland, it thrives at the
strange intersection of culinary folklore and post-apocalyptic pragmatism. At
its center is a three-way struggle: the sacred Orthodoxy templars hold fast to
ancestral faith; the industrial Packenpocks Production LTD churns out meat and
muscle for the region’s economy; and the now-missing Gothic Baba Vera,
spiritual protector of the kielbassa, once kept balance between them. As tensions
bubble like broth in a blood-filled pot, the town teeters toward eruption.
Residents go about their daily lives—dodging Shuffalos, chasing haunted
geraniums, and debating whether to fear or feast upon desecrator raids—but all
eyes are on the giant meat in the courtyard. In Mundare, heroes aren’t
forged—they’re cured.
The Giant Kielbassa
Coiled like a crimson god and glistening with mystic grease,
the Giant Kielbassa is more than just a massive sausage-shaped
monument—it’s a necromantic artifact of power, pulsing with heat, memory, and
preservation magic. Once a folkloric blessing for long winters and family
feasts, its essence was twisted during the Hodgepocalypse into a meat-bound
conduit of arcane energy and now housed within the Meat Locker—part shrine,
part slaughterhouse—this relic fuels ovens and freezes time, its aura able to
cure flesh or chill hearts. Guarded by fire, ice, and bureaucracy, the
kielbassa tests more than just brute strength. To claim its favor, one must
endure its trials, survive its flavors, and confront the truths wrapped in
casing: that power, like sausage, is often made from unseen gristle.
Smokey Lake: Where the Vegetables Watch You Back
Once a lakeside retreat, Smokey Lake has become a
glittering test plot for psychic flora, retail dreams, and sentient tourism.
Reclaimed and redesigned by the Harvesters, a telepathic plant race with
both agrarian zeal and corporate ambition, the town is now equal parts
botanical utopia and souvenir dystopia. Everywhere you look: pod people with
serene smiles, psychic billboards urging consumption, and cheerful kiosks selling
produce that might talk back. Despite the saccharine façade, danger simmers
under the surface—from rogue flora in fast-food kitchens to nightmare entities
walking out of drugstores. Holding the peace is an uneasy pact with the Porcipine
Baba, who ensures visitors get a sporting chance to face the Pumpkin Trial.
Smokey Lake may look like a family-friendly roadside attraction but stay too
long and you might sprout roots—or worse, be recruited for product testing.
The Concrete Pumpkin Patch
Sitting in serene defiance of entropy and autumn alike, the Concrete
Pumpkin Patch is no mere gourd. This titanic squash of shimmering polymer
and arcane concrete radiates latent abjuration magic—protective,
reactive, and temperamental. It doesn’t just defend the land; it remembers what
threatens it. Infused with the psychic biocodes of the Harvester species and
sanctified by the Porcipine Baba, Ester Kishka, the relic lies hidden
within a crystalline labyrinth where thought becomes terrain. Its activation requires
not brute force, but careful thought, empathy, and intuition—tested in rooms
that challenge perception, identity, and emotional resilience. Only by
surviving this botanical mind palace can one earn the Pumpkin Keychain,
a charm of harvest protection and aura-based resistance. Beware, though: the
pumpkin watches, and its defenses grow stronger the more foolish your
intentions.
St. Paul: Homestead of the Stars
In St. Paul, cowboy hats pair with chrome jumpsuits and
cattle calls echo alongside space beacons. The town is almost entirely
inhabited by Marlarkoids, a proud, mystery-cloaked species who claim
extraterrestrial heritage but live the lives of prairie settlers. Equal parts
ranchers and retro-futurists, they build rayguns out of farm tools, quote
galactic scripture with rural twang, and retrofit UFOs in backyard garages. The
community blends frontier grit with Faustian flair, treating their landing pad
as both shrine and workshop. Whether you're solving the mystery of a missing
mascot, tracking stolen spacecraft components, or getting slimed in a grocery
store, one thing’s for sure: St. Paul welcomes all who dream big—especially if
they bring snacks, don’t question the lore, and are willing to play hockey
under a saucer-lit sky.
The St. Paul UFO Landing Pad
Initially built in the mid-20th century as a publicity
stunt, the UFO Landing Pad of St. Paul has become the symbolic and
arcane endpoint of the Relic Roadshow. While it once offered little more than
photo ops and tourism brochures, the Hodgepocalypse has turned it into
something far more profound: a latent Conjuration nexus and gateway to
the stars—or perhaps stranger places. To awaken its power, adventurers must
clear residual hauntings, restore its arcane signal beacon, and contend with
the sabotage of Julia Hellyer, an agent provocateur hiding behind small-town
smiles. Those who succeed gain more than just the final Keychain Relic—they
open a corridor of fate, setting the stage for future contact, conflict, or
ascension. The prize? Fame, a paycheck, and the potential to ride a UFO into
whatever lies beyond the edge of the Hallowed World.
Vegreville: The Town That Dreams in Color
Nestled in the heart of Kalyna Country’s warped prairie, Vegreville
is a resilient settlement built on layers of tradition, dream magic, and
stubborn agricultural pride. Though much of the original town was lost to the
Hodgepocalypse, its people endured, rebuilding along a central strip where
commerce, culture, and celebration still thrive. The city pulses with community
life: greenhouses that whisper, breweries haunted by taxidermy spirits, markets
peddling both pies and plasma, and shrines where faith fuels travel. Overseen
by Mayor Sofia Kostash and protected by eccentric defenders like a talking
quilt and a retired warbot named I.V.A.N., Vegreville has become the first
checkpoint for glory-seekers in the Solstice Race. But beneath its festive
surface lies a deep understanding: the Pysanka gives freely only to those who
embrace both folklore and fury. Here, to race is to be judged—not just by the
land, but by legend itself.
The Giant Pysanka
Rising from the dream-tilled earth like a monument to hope
and heritage, the Giant Pysanka is more than a roadside oddity—it is a
living relic. This massive, rune-etched Easter egg hums with divinatory energy,
bound to the rhythms of the land and the will of those who seek its favor.
Shimmering with forgotten glyphs and chromatic wards, it channels the echoes of
ancestral prayers and future visions alike. To attune to it is to awaken a bond
with the Dreamtime itself—a bond overseen by the Silver Baba, who records each
attempt like a folkloric census taker. But such favor is not given freely; the
Pysanka is guarded by the Earthbound Great Serpent, a horned wyrm of
soil and memory that reshapes the ground around the egg into a living gauntlet
of trials and tremors. Defeating it is possible surviving it with honor is
preferable.
Vilna: Grit, Steel, and Fungal Resolve
The town of Vilna is a case study in post-apocalyptic
adaptation: once flattened by fungal mutation, now reborn as a steel-clad
mushroom metropolis built by the stoic and obsessive Trollitariots.
These workaholic trolls live inside hollowed-out caps, repurpose bottle depots
with psychic labor, and hold civic debates over who deserves adorable mutant
elephants. They value sweat, schedules, and settlement rights—every mushroom in
town is deeded, every metal panel documented. At the heart of their orderly
chaos is a community that blends surrealism with socialist engineering: haunted
churches, trash heap tigers, public libraries policed by gremlin-resistant
reading policies, and enough skill montages to make any handyman weep with joy.
Outsiders are welcome—if they help fix something. Just don’t break the
rules. Or the ropes. And definitely don’t make fun of the mushrooms. They’re
listening.
Mushroom Prime
Fused from three titanic stalks of bio-metallic mycelium and
pulsing with green luminescence, Mushroom Prime is not just a
building—it’s a biomechanical colossus, a post-Hodgepocalypse temple to grit,
growth, and galvanization. At its core lies a metaphysical altar, a conduit
between the Hallowed World and this reality, protected by labyrinthine
fungal corridors, spring-loaded deathtraps, and territorial trolls with
clipboard schedules. This living fungus isn’t simply grown—it’s engineered,
each cap and stalk infused with psionic steel and the memory of every
Trollitariot who climbed it before. To reach the relic within—the Mushroom
Keychain, symbol of resilience, industry, and earthen strength—the party
must endure obstacle courses, mind-warped spores, and an invasion of
Hyperdemons trying to make this place a launchpad into the wider world.
Mushroom Prime doesn’t just test adventurers. It records them. And if you're
not memorable, you’re mulch.
Whoswho
The Eight Babas of Power
In Kalyna Country, where folk magic and post-apocalyptic
mystery intertwine, the Eight Babas of Power stand as matriarchal
guardians of the land’s strangest truths. These eccentric, formidable elders
each rule over a different town, their personalities as distinct as the relics
they protect. Whether guiding with cosmic insight, matchmaking with undead
charm, or laying down frontier justice with spell-slamming revolvers, the Babas
are equal parts protectors, meddlers, and living legends. Their influence shapes
the spiritual and magical balance of Kalyna Country, and crossing one often
means crossing them all.
Cosmic Baba
Alexander “Aleck” Molchan, better known as the Cosmic
Baba, is a stargazing, cosplay-obsessed arcane powerhouse who guards the
UFO landing pad in St. Paul. Clad in a starry robe over a lumberjack shirt and
horn-rimmed glasses, he looks more like a fan-con fixture than a magical
heavyweight—but don’t let that fool you. Aleck is a gentle, lawful good soul
with a deep yearning to make first contact with actual extraterrestrials,
offering aid to any who share even a whisper of alien knowledge. A master of
arcane and cosmic forces, he hovers through the air, deflects magic like a pro,
and throws around Gamma Blasts and reality-bending spells with nerdy
enthusiasm. Just don’t challenge him to a costume party—you’ll lose, and he’ll
still bring the fog machine.
Gothic Baba
Vera Polyakov, the Gothic Baba, is a black-garbed
necromancer with a limp, a heart full of garlic-scented compassion, and
dominion over the Great Mundare Sausage. Though she channels the grim art of
White Necromancy, her magic is used for nourishment, resurrection, and romantic
meddling more than malice. She commands corpsemen with uncanny ease, acting as
a quiet architect of peace between the living and the dead. Despite her
mournful aura and poetic leanings, Vera is an unabashed matchmaker who
champions love in all forms and has little patience for heartbreakers. Kind,
clever, and deeply haunted, she is a reluctant legend of the wastes—one part
mournful aunt, one part death-powered deli matron.
Industrial Baba
Once a beloved elder named Helen Chornyi, the Industrial
Baba lives on as a towering iron construct animated by soul-forged magic
and Trollitariot devotion. Though encased in steel and bound to the
bio-metallic mushroom fortresses of Vilna, her heart remains warm—if
overbearing. She is a meddlesome matron who helps with a heavy hand, frequently
making decisions for others “for their good.” Kind, clever, and practically
immovable, she is a master of industrial magic and battlefield control,
channeling spells through her massive frame like a living forge. Rumors persist
that carrying a metal mushroom may allow her to travel—but until then, she
rules her domain with stern affection and iron resolve.
Mischief Baba
George Netudyhata, the Mischief Baba, is a charming
old trickster wrapped in blue jeans, suspenders, and the scent of wood
shavings, with a ghostly dog always at his side and a glint of playful wisdom
in his eye. Guardian of the Great Mallard Duck of Andrew, George is both a
prankster and a protector, delighting in harmless thefts, misdirections, and
"teachable moments" designed to help others grow. While he may
bargain with sly grins and vanishing goods, he is fiercely loyal to children
and will mete out justice to anyone who harms them. Underneath the mischief
lies a strict code: every deal he makes is honored to the letter, and perhaps
even the spirit if you earn his respect. Expect tricks, illusions, and
laughter—so long as you’re not on the wrong side of his dog’s teeth.
Porcupine Baba
Ester Kishka, the Porcupine Baba, is a
camouflage-clad recluse with a tassel-fringed jacket that bristles into spines
when danger draws near. Crouched and squinty, she skulks through the wilderness
like a spirit of caution and sharp lessons, letting her Harvester allies run
things while she obsesses over secrets and survival. Though gruff and easily
forgotten by outsiders, she’s fiercely loyal once bonded—and bound by an
obscure ritual that, if properly performed, obligates her to help. A master of
stealth magic and tactical strikes, she’s a prickly ally who favors indirect
solutions and painful truths. Just don’t comment on her speech, and you might
survive long enough to learn why she always travels with a packed bag and a
silent promise.
Rose Baba
Rose Pieroginik, the Rose Baba, is a fiery,
plant-bodied powerhouse in shoulder pads and heels, blending 1980s business
ambition with arcane charisma and chlorophyll charm. Once a driven
entrepreneur, her destiny was derailed by an encounter with the Harvesters, and
she survived only by transferring her soul into a pod person’s form. Now the
glamorous guardian of the Giant Perogy, she runs a bustling tourist-trap
restaurant with a smile, a pitch, and a secret hunger for the next big
opportunity. Fiercely persuasive and disarmingly friendly, she can charm crowds
with pheromones or crush minds with spells. Of all the Babas, she’s the one
most likely to offer you a contract—and the one you least want to disappoint.
Silver Baba
The Silver Baba, Sophie Obbizhysvit, guardian of the
Great Pysanka of Vegreville, is a radiant elder wrapped in shimmering runes and
divine insight, serving as the spokesperson and spiritual compass for the Babas
of Power. Once forged by hardship, she now channels her strength into divination
and justice, loathing arrogance and silently orchestrating poetic downfalls for
bullies. Her gleaming attire stuns both in style and in combat, and her gaze
can paralyze the unwise. Though reserved, she grants favors to those who
uncover her hidden truths, appearing like a vision for a single round to tip
fate’s scales. With foresight in her pocket and humility in her heart, the
Silver Baba sees what others dare not dream.
Western Baba
Clad in worn leather, spurred boots, and grit-soaked wisdom,
the Western Baba, Helen Gretzsky, is the arcane gunslinger of the eight—part
wizard, part frontier legend. A master of evocation and raw force magic, she
blends spellwork with sharpshooting, her long-bore revolver doubling as a
spellcasting focus and symbol of justice. Gruff but good-hearted, she rides the
line between law and freedom, protecting the overlooked and putting down the
wicked with a steady hand and a flash of cyan flame. She’s seen strange things
out on the range—stranger still if you know where to dig—and she doesn't
hesitate to act when fate draws its gun first. Respect her boundaries, and
you’ll find no more faithful ally this side of the Hodge Line.
Beyond
the Babas - Key NPCs of Kalyna Country
Coach Danya Belski
Solstice Gym-Theologian of the New Cimmerians
Coach Belski is built like a shrine and talks like your
favorite gym teacher crossed with a mystic firebrand. A revered mentor among
New Cimmerians, he runs “Temple of the Rep” inside an abandoned curling
rink-turned-sanctuary, where squat racks share space with votive candles and
protein altars. He preaches the gospel of discipline through exercise, quoting
ancestral sayings between sets and insisting that spiritual enlightenment
starts with proper form. Known for blessing barbell plates
before competitions and officiating the sacred Trial by Burnt Barbell, Belski
trains youth not just to lift—but to lift with purpose. He believes everyone
has a “deadlift destiny,” and if you don’t know yours yet, he’ll help you sweat
it out.
Plot Hook: Coach Belski’s prized anvil-dumbbell
relic, the Burden of Saints, has been stolen before the Solstice Trials, and
all the gym mirrors are now showing scenes of failure—some prophetic, some
forgotten. To recover it, the party must track the thief through rival
gym-cults, shadowboxing spirits, and a weightlifting ghost who refuses to rest
until someone finally hits their PR.
Father Melosky
The iron backbone of Mundare’s Orthodoxy—a broad-shouldered
priest who quotes saints mid-grapple and leads sermons with bruised knuckles
and blessed sweat. Once a humble Basilian monk, he now trains “devotional
wrestlers” in the Basilica-Bunker’s holy gymnasium, delivering faith through
footwork and fearsome forearms. While the townsfolk respect his strength, they
whisper about the day he knocked out a demon mid-prayer... and smiled.
Plot Hook:
During the Feast of St. Demetrius, an initiates' match ends in a vision of fire
and betrayal etched in sweat on the gym walls. Father Melosky needs help
uncovering whether it’s prophecy—or punishment for loving the fight too much.
Pauly PackenPocks,
The slick-talking, deal-making meat mogul of Mundare, is the
founder and face of PackenPocks—the post-apocalyptic prairie’s most infamous
meat processing empire. Charismatic, cutthroat, and always ready with a
handshake or a sales pitch, Pauly rose to prominence after the collapse of
inter-provincial trade barriers, flooding the market with his vacuum-sealed
meats and catchy jingle: “Pick me up a PackenPocks!” Though he paints himself
as a visionary feeding the nation, locals know him as a wheeler-dealer with a
golden tongue and a silver knife, always angling for the next big contract,
relic, or loophole. Rumors swirl about just what kind of meat makes it into a
PackenPocks pack—but Pauly smiles, pats your back, and says, “Don’t worry, it’s
local.”
Plot Hook:
A rival distributor has gone missing after accusing PackenPocks of selling
“miracle meat” that doesn’t spoil—and might not die. Pauly hires the party to
clear his name, but every clue leads deeper into the meatworks, where the
sausages hum and the vats breathe.
Kalyna
Country Quest Hooks
The
following are 10 playable quest hooks for adventuring parties traveling through
Kalyna Country, each rooted in folklore, magical surrealism, and
post-Hodgepocalyptic eccentricity. Use them as one-shots, campaign arcs, or
side plots along the Relic Roadshow.
The Pickled Prophecy
A barrel of
enchanted dill pickles begins whispering accurate predictions—then goes silent.
The villagers believe the final message warned of a betrayal during the
Solstice Feast. Now everyone’s a suspect, and the pickles are missing.
Trial by Barbell
A New
Cimmerian gym-camp goes quiet after an initiation rite leaves the forest
trembling. Rumors speak of a cursed barbell that lifted the lifter instead.
Locals need someone to recover it before the next flexquake.
Relic Roadshow Sabotage
One of the
Solstice Race checkpoints—the Giant Duck—is missing its living keychain again.
But this time, the duck is laying decoy eggs filled with psychic traps. Why?
And who’s tampering with the course?
The Singing Stove’s
Lullaby
A villager
accidentally left stew cooking in the Singing Stove and woke up speaking an
extinct language, and can’t stop. Worse, their dreams now broadcast locally.
The stove must be appeased before it starts a psychic storm.
The Sausage Knight Has
Gone Rogue
The
enchanted Kielbassa Golem of Mundare, normally a protector, has wandered off
muttering strange anti-orthodoxy poetry. The Orthodox want it sanctified. The
PackenPocks want it weaponized. The Baba wants you to ask it what’s wrong.
Ghost Wheat Harvest
A golden
field has sprouted overnight in a zone scorched by leyfire decades ago. Locals
who try to reap it disappear, replaced by smiling doubles. The field sings at
night. The didukhs are starting to sway.
The Perogy Pact
Rose Baba
has struck a temporary alliance with a rogue Corpseman band—but a love
triangle, a cursed recipe, and a stolen soul-storage tupperware have thrown
everything off. Unpack the emotional mess or risk undead litigation.
The Root-Choked Chapel
Awakens
Prayers
muttered in the wrong tone have reawakened the sentient root system. The chapel
now preaches fire-and-brimstone sermons through wind chimes and tree bark. The
villagers are starting to agree. Intervention is required.
Raiders of the Lost Recipe
A Living
Recipe scroll from Redbog Hollow has gone missing, rumored to grant immortality
through soup. Several factions want it. Unfortunately, it’s now in the belly of
a Thornslither with a taste for poetry.
Return of the Baba's Scar
A psychic
eclipse has caused the Baba’s Scar to start rewriting local reality. Trees turn
into doors. People find versions of themselves arguing in mirrors. A brave team
must descend into the crater to stitch the storylines back together—or be
edited out of history.
