The Wagon


The wagon is a humble light wagon that’s been added to by someone with some small skills in carpentry and painting. There is a comfortable driver’s bench on the front with a modest overhang for protection from sun and soft rain. The back is a box with hinges; wings can flap out bearing shelves of merchandise, topped with muslin flags, painted with bright lettering.

The Honeste Doctor’s Carriage brings the Cures to You!

“I made the paints myself!” announces Doc as he pulls the tailgate down and slides a brightly painted apple crate onto the ground. Using it as a step up, he shows the others the alchemical collection in the back. Bottles are tucked into tight spaces and Lazy Susans. Some ingredients hang fresh in small hanging nets or baskets. Bound in a corner are a few feed sacks, stuffed into barrels, along with other rolled up muslin signs.

A leather box of alchemical tools rests on a half desk, with a cushioned footstool for slightly comfortable work. Some lanterns hang ready on a hemp rope, as does random labor tools of carpentry and painting.

Last of all, a hammock hangs from a hook on the side wall. Another hook awaits the looped end. There is certainly the weak smell of chemicals, stronger smell of vinegar, and an overpowering scent of cinnamon.

“It humble, but it’s home. Not much room for company,” he says looking at his new partners in business, But then again, most of you don’t take up much space.

“I’m always looking for a budget to make improvements!”

He slides open a compartment in the floor and tosses the tablecloth package, “For sorting into inventory later!”

He slides the apple crate back onto the wagon and closes the tailgate, settling the bolt in and clasping on a small but firm lock. With a few casual strides, he ambles to the driver’s bench and climbs aboard. He grabs the reigns from a leather horn on the bench and gives them a gentle shake.

The two pack mules flicker their ears and shuffle their hooves.

“Mercury and Tungsten know the route better than I do. We visit all the hamlets, villages, hovels, and cities – they practically go where you tell them to without much need for the reigns which are really there to keep me attached to the wagon!”

He opens another small compartment under his seat and pulls out a bottle of wine. He pulls the cork out and offers the bottle to the wizard.

“It’s really for blessing the vessel for a maiden voyage, but I hate to let it go to waste, so why not bless our stomachs against the bumpy roads and get moving? Where to? Stallwise is not far, and we can get mounts and supplies; we’ll probably need more wine sooner than you think…”

He gestures in the direction of Tungsten and Mercury and speaks softly, “…they get upset when they don’t get their share.”



  • Two large baskets have been added inside the far corners of the wagon. They hang from a nail and have small, but soft cloth lining them for warmth, comfort, and even privacy. The small statured members of the hounds have a place to sleep, as long as they can stand the Doctor’s snoring and sleep-talking.

The Wagon

Sword of Ruin JeremyLMiller