1. A giant caterpillar crawls into view. On its back is a large mushroom hut with a red roof speckled white. Above the huts door is a sign of a coin pouch spilling silver teeth. A crone, Ultah Silverteeth, calls from a window to the party. She claims she has the best tobacco in all the land. Construct butterflies with silver filagree wings flit about the structure. One of the blends she sells allows the smoker to re-rolled a single hit die on a short rest as they smoke it.
2. A huge stone golem lumbers toward the party. It doesn't have a head, but a square, stone building on its shoulders and hunched back instead. Above the buildings pitted, wooden door hands a sign of a coin pouch spilling stone teeth. A crone, Illima Stoneteeth, peeks out of the door and claims she has a fine selection of armor and weapons heroes might need. Stone ravens circle high above. There is an ancient axe that she displays made of smoked glass that is strong as steel and is more effective against fey creatures.
3. Built atop a pair of stork legs, a round hut gracefully struts from the woods. It has a fence of pale feathers from the fence. The sign above its door depicts a coin pouch spilling bronze teeth. On the stoop, a crone waves from her rocking chair. Fegha Bronzeteeth is her name and she thinks the heroes look wary and wonders if they need a room for the night. Orphans watch from the hunts windows. Staying the night in this in restores an additional HD on a long rest and the orphans are full of plot hooks.
4. The massive turtle's shell is covered with patches of grass, surrounded by an old rickey fence, and a high-peaked home sits at its zenith. Instead of a head, though, there is a swaying, mahogany staircase. Boggles tend to the garden, though a trio shares a spyglass on the roof peak. Above the home's door is a sign of a coin purse spilling out golden teeth. Within is a curious magic shop run by the crone Eya Goldteeth. One of the items Eya sells is an amulet that allows the bearer to polymorph into a giant elk.
5. The treant doesn’t seem to mind the treehouse built among its branches. The series of round platforms are connected by suspended bridges. The treant holds a sign showing a coin pouch spilling wooden teeth. On one of the platforms, a crone putters around in a kitchen complete with a stone oven. It takes a moment for Shelba Yewteeth to notice the heroes but she offers then a slice of pie on the house. A herd of white-furred goats grazes in the treant's wake. The baked goods Shelba offers are quite delicious and keep a character fully fed for one day.
6. Talking to three floating masks, the crone wears a pristine wedding dress without a veil. She sits on a moss-covered altar of a dead religion, and uses a shepherd's crook for her balance. Without looking to the party the old woman, Isada Peppercorn, inquires if they have any questions for the Fates? They aren't giving her any answers anyway and perhaps a fresh line of inquiry will untie their tongues. A swarm of black beetles dance around her bare hooves. The insects are preforming a complex dance one might expect to see at a noble's court.
7. The crone, Sargia the Sorrowed, digs a grave with a corroded spade. Nearby, a trio of moss-ridden skeletons prepare a woodsman's body for burial. She pauses as soon as she hears the party with a twitch of a pointed ear among oxidized green hair. She asks if the heroes might take a moment to help her see this grim deed done. She claims the woodsman was murdered by a former friend and she is trying to bury him deep enough he won't rise as a revenant. But, it might be better if his killer is caught. Sargia wears a battered duster coat and patchwork doublet and pants. She can offer no reward other than keeping a horror from stalking the land.
8. A swarm of field mice dashes about gathering forest debris in tandem with a swarm of sparrows. They are startled by the party at first. However, after watching them for a moment the two groups assail them. The mice and sparrows aren't out to do any damage. Instead they snatch strands of hair, fur from cloaks, loose twine and other ephemera. Then the swarms take off toward a nearby copse. Within the trees sits a crone, Cragged Gegie. The crone's face is covered in deep wrinkles with bright blue eyes among the folds. Her hair is cut short and her shawl fashioned from dead leaves. The mice and sparrows drop off their goods in her baskets and she thanks them by conjuring grain for them to eat. Then the crone goes back to making brooms from the stolen bits.
9. Dressed in archaic finery and with a thin veil over her wither face, the crone awaits on the side of the road sitting atop a battered traveling trunk. The woman, Lucia the Watcher, will ask those that pass by for a bite of food and something to drink. She says she is making a tour of the land to see the sights and drink in its people. If given food, the crone will not eat it, but feed it to the trunk instead as it is a docile mimic. If given in drink she will gulp it a bit too fast and sigh in relief and gift the giver the same volume in silver coins stolen from the eyes of corpses.
10. The crone stands at the edge of a dried-up late. Dead fish rot in the sun amid fetid mud. She wears a long cape of seal skin that is tattered and tattooed. Evia of the Shallows bears a crown of coral amid her few strands of snow white hair and she idly taps her lips with a scepter made of coiled, petrified tentacles. She mumbles that she is too late to save her subjects, how sad it is that they suffered this fate. It will not be as terrible an ending as the millers who blocked up the river leading to this lake. With squid-black eyes, she'll stare at the heroes as ask them to mercifully end the millers before she arrives.
11. A pack of wild dogs sleeps around the crone as she quietly plays a flute fashioned from an elf's femur. The elderly woman, Aennia Packmother, is dressed like those in a nearby village. A red scarf covers her faded auburn hair, a shawl her shoulders, and a simple dress ends at her ankles. Her feet are lupine in nature. The song she plays draws out memories of childish, feral glee when we dreamed of being a dog or cat, fox or bear. A sense of relief accompanies the tune. It would just be so easy to let the pretense of civilization go and live moment by moment as beasts do. The flute abruptly stops and Aennia asks the party where they are heading to and offers to get them there quickly if they would be so kind to brush her wolves' fur.
12. The crone standing in front of the cabin is almost as dilapidated as the structure behind her. One eye is squinted close, the other large and bloodshot. Her back is hunched and the smile she offers broken. Still, Larien is a happy soul. A withered daisy-chain holds her voluminous silver hair in place. She uses a weathered crook staff for balance and a thick, wool blanket of plaid to ward off the chill. Though, she has six fingers on each hand. Larien says she lived in this cabin as a child and left behind a doll in the cellar. She's too fragile, though, to navigate the partially-collapsed building and asks the party for help.
13. Wizened and blind, the crone carries a bag over-flowing with silver and gold trinkets that clatter loudly as she walks. Rezza Hellbreaker's skin is a deep red, her horns spiral like a rams. Though, the teifling's tail has seen better days, ending in a burned stump. Her pale hair is unkempt and her dark skirt covered in soot, as is the matching purple jacket she wears. Rezza stops now and again and places out a plate, jar, candle-stick or the like. A few moments later imps or other devils will appear out of nowhere and claim the prize with cackling mirth before disappearing in puffs of brimstone. She's curious what date it is and seeks the help of anyone she comes across to help her get home. Once's she's past the threshold she's allowed to keep whatever treasure is left and will split it with those that help.
14. The smell of smoldering metal and sulfur fills the air. The cloud of cinders which products it leads to a recently-blasted clearing in the forest. Here is a wagon of singed wood drawn by a clockwork steed. The owner of the conveyance, a dwarven crone, stokes a bonfire at the heart of the clearing. The elderly woman is known only as Scalded Ozzere has jet black hair that is carefully plaited and interwoven with iron bands. She wears a blackened blacksmith's smock, a loose and dirty shirt, and plain brown skirt. Both of her hands, however, have been replaced with clockwork facsimiles bolted to burned stumps. Ozzere is not interested in small talk for she is trying to outrace winter's coming. She will ask when and where was the last time the characters felt a chill or saw some snow.
15. This halfling crone floats into view at a human's eye height. Her long, white hair writhes like an agitated adder's nest and her red dress hides her feet as it trails off. Around her floats a squadron of flying swords, worn down and rusted with age. Her right arm is covered in brazen torques dedicated to the dark fey. Her left arm is covered in angular tattoos of unknown origin. If approached, however, Margin Picklepatch, is friendly and warm. She explains that she is tracking fugitives from the feywild, very dangerous fugitives that the party should be careful to avoid. Several times throughout the conversation, however, she will have a one-way chat with some of the flying swords in an absent minded way. No matter of magic will detect that the swords are actually communicating with her.
16. This gnome crone likes to speak in verse and rhyme. Measured Saroe is an odd duck, and also rides an odd duck as big as a mastiff. The canard's feathers are as black as soot save for a ring of white around its neck and a blood-red bill. Named Millpond, the duck is ill-tempered and fiercely protective of Measured Saroe. The elderly gnome, however, will insist that Millpond is as harmless as an ogre. She wears a cloak of scarlet feathers and a mustard colored cap. Her robes are stained with all matter of forest-born smears. Millpond's saddlebags are covered with pouches of various colors and sizes. Measured Saroe is searching for various animal bones in the forest today and is willing to trade goods (determined by the GM) in her bag of holding for them in nonsensical amounts.
17. Aronia of the Mists is a frightening creature, and that is just how the dragonborn crone likes it. Her green scales are chipped and craggy with age, her frame towering and emaciated. Yet, she still moves with the supple grace of youth and has a wit as sharp as her razored claws. A clinging, emerald-tinged fog follows the crone whenever she goes. Aronia can thicken it to pea-soup on a whim and perhaps even make it poisonous to all but she. The dragonborn wears a thick, wool robe with frayed edges repaired with woven bones. A series of necklaces dangle from her thin neck, each made from the coins of a different, toppled empire. Aronia is travelling the local land looking for a princes of toads who owes her a favor. She is quite displeased that the amphibian is trying to welch on the deal.
18. Accompanied by a lumbering wickerman, Peaty Bog goes by Peat with those she meets. This tabaxi crone's fur is a fine tabby coat without a hint of mange. Her mouth, however, is a different story with only one fang remaining amid black gums Her ears are quite wrinkled and the bridge of her nose marred by a thick scar. Peat is trying to sell blocks of enchanted peat stored within the wickerman's chest. However, the people of the nearby town seem to be terrified of her and the wickerman. They attack the pair any time they get near, and last time, regretfully she had to have the wickerman step on a few to save her life. Peat feels terrible about this and asks the party to deliver a few bricks of her goods to the townsfolk as recompense. One brick will heat a house for a month, so she claims.
19. "Eyes for sale, eyes for sale!" this orc crone shouts as she travels down the path on the back of a headless mule. She has no eyes of her own within a battle-scared face, only hollow sockets but her head moves as if she is watching whomever she speaks with. Kruuti Thewspitter wears a well-worn set of studded leather armor that has been often patched and repaired. However, the crone carries no weapon except a riding crop she uses to keep the undead mule moving. Around the elderly orc buzzes a swarm of ersatz eyes of every imaginable color and humanoid race. She can snatch the exact one she wants out of the air with her bone fingers, covered in tarnished silver rings. Kruuti claims her eyes are even better than the real thing and several are enchanted to allow different kinds of vision a race might not normally have. Of course, one has to put out one of their eyes to gain the benefit. That's okay, Kruuti will take a living eye in trade and knows how to extract them in a mostly painless fashion.
20. How else would a drow crone arrive but atop a massive spider. In this case, the creature is a phase spider of concerning size that steps out of the ether into the real world near the traveling party. A crooked, narrow home is wrapped in ectoplasm and spidersilk atop it's back. The dark elf is perched on a rickety balcony at the top, using a battered telescope to observe the sky. Leering Linusatratiaetha, Leering Linu for short, wears waders boots one would expect a fisherman too. Likewise her overall and rough cotton shirt fit that profession. Her thick hair is a birds nest of spidersilk, forgotten pencils and dead insects. Leering Linu's abode is full of alien star charts and obscure astronomical devices. She is concerned because a meteor should have slammed into this area yesterday and has yet to arrive.
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