Scene 1: Introduction and Chaos Potatoes

Rhomande: When last we left my Insufferable Basterds, they were crossing the wasteland of Tuberorsus the Blighted, a terrible place that may truly be Potato Hell.  

Enormous dunes of mouldering tubers stretch as far as the eye can see, each one spreading its stygian spores on the wind.  The great burning potato sun hammers down insistently, unmitigated by breeze nor cloud nor shade.  

When last we camped, the lot of us were forced to repel a midnight attack by a horde of potato zombies.  As if the undead spuds weren't bad enough, Tuberorsus himself used quite a bit of violence to express his displeasure at our presence.  

Now, we trudge along the desert once again, exhausted and irritable from our lack of sleep.

Issa: Elf!  Shut your poncy face and keep walking.  A group of those twice-damned things ate our magic carpets.

Thorn: Wait... I'm still trying to figure that one out.  Why would zombies eat carpets?  Don't the undead usually eat whatever they were when they were alive?

DM: Remember where you are?  The zombies can eat anything on this plane, since everything is a potato, on some level.

Tad: Hrm... That explains the glow bulb sticking out of the potato-sun.  I kind of wondered about that.

DM: And so you continue your harrowing journey.  Luckily, Create Food and Water is a fairly low-level spell, so your provisions are easily cared for.  

Thrimlach: Where in the Twelve Hells is the rest of our party?  Even with the planar temporal differential, they should have been here by now. 

Rhomande: Strewth, ceatharan!  I even made sure to leave them a note.  I hope they arrive with my new wardrobe soon!

Issa: What's wrong with what you're wearing now?

Rhomande: You wouldn't understand. I'm pretty sure penguins are color blind.

Issa: You're completely wrong.  And I hate you.

DM: Luckily, you don't have long to dwell on that thought.  A cloud of dust rises in the distance, and you can feel more than hear a low rumble.  Give me some spot checks.