Another catalyzed by Ex Novo with Lucas.
Oxhaven.
An oasis in the wastes. Founded by merchants who traded the central deserts in ox-pulled wagons, this city quickly became a hotspot for religious dissidents looking to escape the doctrinal shackles of the Empire to the West and its viziers. Commerce, of course, refuses to halt for ideology.
They make a hard living, but root vegetables grow well and much else can be traded for. It takes a rugged person to trek the Coiling Dunes — and to want to stay? The population of Oxhaven is renowned for their practicality.
Which makes recent reports from the city troubling indeed.
Several years ago, the city’s ruling family — the Howlers — found something while mining. At the time, all we knew was that an ancient artifact had been rediscovered. Whether mystical or scientific in nature, it was impossible to tell. The Howlers immediately turned a large fraction of their town’s resources to some industrial process. The specifics of that process were kept a tightly-held secret. In the intervening years, our agents failed to retrieve the details on multiple missions. On one occasion, even their instigating a fire as a distraction — which destroyed a substantial section of the city’s manufacturing district and associated housing — was not enough. If this was a setback to the Howlers’ plans, it was a minor one.
These repeated failures were trivial until recently. While we are always searching for knowledge immemorial, the only use Oxhaven seemed to be getting of their discovery was slightly faster oxen. Some claimed the speed was “increased two fold,” but that was determined to be an exaggeration. They are only slightly more energetic beasts, on average.
The problem — and the puzzle — arose last month. You may have heard of the earthquakes in the region? They were unprecedented and seem to have radically shifted the landscape of the Coils. Since then, we have seen very few caravans out of Oxhaven. And no traders traveling into the city have yet returned.
What little news we have heard suggests that new deposits of some resource have been uncovered. Something newly plentiful which when combined with that earlier discovery provokes a madness in men, a wildness in women, and an obsequiousness in oxen. *cough* The oxen become very reliable.
“All roads run through the ox home,” as they say. Trade has been disrupted too long already.
Our usual agents are ill-suited for the reported chaos of the situation. You and your team are perfect candidates for this mission. We need you to enter the city and eliminate this bottleneck by whatever means necessary. Our continued economic dominance depends on it.
And since you’re already in debt to our organization… Succeed in this, and consider it repaid.
The first group of adventurers we sent has not returned. However, they did get this letter out of the city before apparently being indoctrinated into staying. Read it so you know what you’re up against, and begin your journey.
Best of luck, “chosen one.”
After a thorough investigation into the city’s apparent mania, our party has managed to infiltrate the Cult and find the truth.
The first discovery made years ago was a preserved jar of “mother of vinegar,” a strange substance which when correctly provoked creates “vinegar,” a tasty sour foodstuff. This in itself was a revelation.
But the recent earthquakes opened up vast stretches of long-forgotten salt mines, and revelation begins to seem too small a word. It is odd, but these in-landers have never known the plentiful salt we have on the coast. And it’s the combination of these elements that makes something truly magical.
A cult — a new religion — has formed. The treasured Oxhaven Hall of Books was damaged in the quakes, and in the course of its reconstruction, the library has been converted into a cathedral. Surely the grandest place of worship to be seen in this land of dissidents. But what we worship now is something novel. I can scarce describe it. But it is so good.
It’s exquisite. None of us can get enough. The way it can be overpowering is part of the appeal.
The Taste.
Some genius took the local root vegetable of choice (the “potato”), and cut and fried it in such a way that it acts as the perfect conduit for the Taste. Better than just guzzling it down on its own.
There are people pretending to be super-soldiers just to qualify for more. The oxen get riled up, I swear they’re at least twice as quick on the Taste — something about being full of urine also helps??
The Cult of Taste is expanding and formalizing. Lower-ranked members serve as cooks; the Elect seek to discover new innovations, like adding a hint of ginger, evolving the Taste to untold heights.
Living here’s not so bad. My last cult was all about eating squid to prepare for being eaten by a squid… (An eldritch, squid-looking deity, I suppose.) There’s no way something similar could happen here, right?
being seasoned from the inside to the liking of a being beating heart beyond the heavens beneath the dunes until we taste Taste TASTE good enough to
Anyway, we’re going to stay. The Taste… there’s just nothing like it. I don’t think I could live without it, any more. We just didn’t want your organization to worry about us. Everything’s great!
Please try the bag attached to this letter, free of charge! And come join us if you’d like a little more.
This letter was brought to you by:
Oxen2fold™ Brand Salt & Vinegar Potato Chips
“Just like Vizier used to make!”