Yann spends the night entertaining himself immensely, swapping tall tales with anyone and everyone. In the morning the two wielders of the arcane set off on the road north to the high forest. Kesem and Yann travelled for almost two days without incident when, on the horizon, they saw the forest spreading wide from horizon to horizon.
As twilight set pulled its dark blanket over the sky a slender figure emerged from the forest, the elf’s red hair was a tangled mess and his clothes filthy but he smiled as the two of you approach.
“Good evening Kesem and Yannock,” he bows with a sarcastic flourish. “I am Wyllaneye and I am to escort you to our camp. Follow me and stay close.”
He lowers his voice and waves his hands around, “There are dangers in the forest!” he laughs as he turns to head north.
Your guide natters incessantly as you travel through the forest apparently totally oblivious to his surroundings. But after several hours he stops to camp for the night.
“Sleep, I’ll keep watch,” he smirks as he puts out the cooking fire.
Waking several times during the night you see Wyllaneye walking about mumbling to himself. How well can you sleep with a madman on watch?
Kesem wakes to find Wyllaneye’s face a mere six inches from his own, “Your face does funny things when you dream, did you know that? Come on, we only have a few more hours till we make it to camp.”
By mid afternoon you indeed make it to a clearing in the forest, packed with tents and many armed elves going about their day, your guide points you to a tent and yells out.
“Ydadoras! Rikka!” he shouts. “They are here!”
Many of the elves turn at the outburst, several children laugh but no one seems perturbed.
From the tent two elves emerge.
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The wagon ride for Bumble and Dorn was pleasantly uneventful; the weather had been dry so none of the many wagons had been bogged. Upon entering the northern edge of the forest, Whitebow sent out several elves to act as scouts, everyone was visibly alert and the tension rose significantly.
However, the wagons were not troubled at all and by midafternoon the elder assured them they were nearly there. The forest was thick but did not feel oppressive, it felt welcoming. Visibility was greatly reduced and the elven scouts were much closer to the wagons than before. Abruptly the forest opened up into a massive clearing filled with tents.
As you close you hear someone shouting.
“Rest, relax, be welcome,” Whitebow smiles and gestures to the camp. “Meet me by the central fire at dusk.”
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At dusk, three pairs of strangers eye each other across the fire. Inevitably sizing each other up and trying to evaluate who could do what. Whitebow and a slender young elf who is introduced as Cendra, one of the few wizards amongst the wood elves, are also there.
The old elf relates the tale of what has occurred to the elves and the blight that has contaminated the Dire Wood area of the forest. Some of the information you have heard before, some you have not but by the end of the hour you are all abreast of the situation as much as anyone else is.
Cendra describes her frustration at being unable to divine any information, “It is like trying to see a star during the day. There is too much background ‘light’ and the only thing I briefly made out was the impression of a red giant of some kind near the center of the contamination.”
Whitebow spread his hand helplessly, “We have tried to investigate this several times ourselves and only Ydadoras there has made it back. Our people need help and we do not expect you to be unrewarded for the danger you will no doubt face.”
Cendra places a small mat on the forest floor and tips out the contents of a small bag. Gems pour out of the small container and sprinkle across the mat like a crystalized rainbow.
“Yours,” she said. “Take them with our gratitude and these as well.”
From a bag at her hip she pulls out a small flask with blueish liquid inside, she reaches back in a draws out another. Repeating the act several times she places four flasks on the mat as well
“Potions of healing,” she grimaces. “Though I sincerely hope you have no need of them.”
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OOC:
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Gems: an asortment to the the value of 1200gp, Four potions of healing. Over to you
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Planning to spend the rest of the evening drinking and gossiping.
