Gurcant seeks fertile soil to improve the yields of his newly plowed fields.
Gurcant: Blast! At this rate, the crops will never be ready for harvest.
Gurcant: If only we had blackloam… Just a bit could send our stalks soaring!
Gurcant: I’ll bet Rhotwyda knows where you might find some. Perhaps you might pay her a visit in the orchard?
Rhotwyda: That Gurcant’s got a head of cabbage if he thinks I’m fetchin’ him any blackloam!
Rhotwyda: But if you dare to pinch some from the Cookpot, then be my guest. Just mind you don’t get trampled upon by the aurochs that dwell there.
Rhotwyda: Once you’ve three bushels’ worth, take the blackloam to Pfrewahl at Tiller’s Rest. He’ll know what to do.
Pfrewahl: Argh, even the weeds wither and die in this desolate dirt.
Pfrewahl: But a bit of this blackloam ought to change all that! I haven’t seen any in ages. Gathering blackloam’s not for the weak of will…nor the weak of stomach, eh? Hahaha!
Pfrewahl: …Oh, don’t tell me Gurcant and Rhotwyda neglected to mention where blackloam comes from.
Pfrewahl: Well, surely you figured it out on your own from the cloying stench! It comes from the aurochs’ lair, of all places!
Pfrewahl: Ahem, well, why dwell on who misled whom about what? What matters is that your efforts have brought us the blackloam, and we can expect a bountiful harvest as a result. Thank you!













