Softwind's Tale: Companions of the Valley (upd 04/01/04) - REALLY!

[Softwind]

Duthroan

Thirtieth Session (Sept 03)

The rest of the party, still rubbing sleep from their eyes, moving slowly from their wounds, assess the damage dealt to self and surrounds. After judicious use of Athena’s Caduceus stick and healing spells, the wounded members take stock of the remnants of the fight.

Concern over their guide, the hybsil Aviril, turns to surprise as he emerges from the surrounding brush, cleaning his weapon and fur of blood. Little of which is his. He explains that he had to deal with an opponent himself, but not to worry; the ogre will not bother anyone again. After Athena verifies that the wounds the hybsil carries are minor, the party beds down again for the rest of the night.
Rising some time after the sun, the party performs its morning ablutions before taking the trail once more, sped by the druids spell, and urged on by the Hybsil, Aviril. The morning turns to noon before a halt is called in a clearing dominated by a large tree.

The party is surprised when their guide speaks in the flowing words of the sylvan race, and his words are returned - by the Tree! Eavesdropping by use of a spell, Genoa translates as much of the conversation that occurs before the spell dissipates. Ten minutes long, and that just a greeting! Tombit takes this opportunity to "investigate" the tree, and is lifted up high in its branches... for it is Duthroan, a treant in service to the High Forest and Turlang.

The ensuing conversation is in Common, albeit slowly enunciated, and the party is able to converse with Duthroan. The medallions from the hybsils and Turil pave the way to grudging acceptance by the treant. He makes comments about the party being "odd" (all but the elven members) but does not go into detail. He also states that he knows where Turlang is, and is willing to assist the party in reaching the treant, if they would only aid him in a small matter. Seems there is a patch of forest that has "stopped responding" to his commands, and this is worrisome. It is as if the forest had become "infected" or "corrupted".

Being the friends of nature that they are, the party agrees to help Duthroan in exchange for his assistance to get them to Turlang (and also to help the forest). He picks up the party and swiftly moves them to an area of the forest that is marsh like, wherein a "falling star" had impacted, several days prior. From their vantage points, the party sees the crater and makes their way as quickly as they can.

Within the muck-surrounded crater lies several dozen feet of water, the silt still stirred up from the impact. Devising a plan of ropes and water breathing spells, some of the party descends into the murky depths, ropes tied about their waists and held by the other members. The bottom of the crater holds a still-warm and rather heavy object that the party decides to lift. Several hijinks later, involving the rest of the party and faceplants in the water, the object is revealed to be, at least in part, comprised of adamantite!!

No sooner had they exclaimed at the find when the surrounding hummocks and rotting vegetation stretches out their leafy tendrils and latches onto several party members. For the first time, the druid is heard to cry, "The plants must die!" Perhaps it is this pronouncement that distracts the group, or just the confusion of the moment, but no sooner is it uttered than the dwarven ranger disappears down the gullet of a mobile pile of rotting weeds and plants! All told, three crawling credenzas lay siege unto the party - two fall beneath the mighty blades, arrows, and mace of the party, the third being strangely reluctant to head to the great fertilizer pile in the sky...

Alchemetical fire, oil, and a flameblade-weilding druid finally lay the plant creature to rest, in a mighty FOOM of heat and ash. Having laid out the opposition, the group pauses to dress wounds and take stock of the damage. When the meteorite is placed within a handy Bag of Holding for storage, the unease the rangers and druids have felt in the area dissipates. Having no fear that the lingering fire will spread in such wet conditions, the party heads back to where Duthroan and the animal companions await.

The treant is pleased with the results, for he can feel the "strength" returning to the land once the stone was hidden from the Material Plane. He commends the party, and again offers a quick way to reach Turlang, mentioning once more the "oddity" of the party... Peeling away some bark, he magically forms it into a Seal for the party to show to Turlang once they arrive. The cleric takes possession of it, and then watches in interest as Duthroan cast some form of spell, and points to a patch of ground. "Step there" he states.

One by one, the party members step upon the indicated ground, and find themselves amidst ancient ruins. Taking a moment to reorient themselves, they are confronted by another treant, although this one so large as to dwarf Duthroan. Challenged by Turlang, for it can only be he, with such size, the party shows their badges and medallions already gathered. Slow to be mollified, the ancient druid asks of more proofs and deeds of their good intentions.

Finally satisfied, he begins to answer questions placed to him, interjected with his own of the outside world (outside being beyond the confines of the High Forest). He, too, speaks slowly, although he makes attempts to speed up to match the flightier nature of the "short lived" races (in comparison to his own long lifespan).

The conversation carries the party into the early hours of the morning, those who are able to stay awake so long. They learn of the history of Hellgate Keep, and its previous inhabitants, and the supposed fate of Yurace and the ranger escort. It does not bode well that the wizard and his party entered Hellgate, and have not since returned.

 

[Softwind]

New weapons and a new Companion

Thirty-First Session (Sep 03)

After 2 days non-stop discussion, the party decides they have enough information to take back to Everlund. While the Headmaster Gotien may not like the news, the party decides that informing him is better than withholding the information.
Turlang gives the party the Mage Guild symbol worn by Yurace, and opens up a backroads for the party, depositing them a short half day's journey from the city, within a copse of trees seemingly protected by Nature herself. The group quickly acquires passage with a merchant heading into town - with their help, the merchant shaves a few hours off his time to get to the city.

The party heads back to the Inn, where they find their rooms have not yet been rented out again. Quickly discussing plans, the group separates. Skylar and Qonos head to the Mage's guild to let Gotien know what has happened. Tombit, Athena, Brynn and Genoa locate the blacksmith who had been commissioned to craft Tombit's Tiger Claws, and reveal to him the huge "rock" of adamantite recovered from the forest.

With their help (casting protective spells, and summoning heat and water), the 45 pound stone is melted down and formed into bars, and weapon blanks. The greenish metal, also part of the stone, melts first, and is formed into nine two-pound bars. In its refined state, it causes the rangers and druid of the party to feel even more unease. The refined adamantine is crafted into three bars, Tombit's claws, 3 short swords, 2 daggers, and a longsword. The blacksmith claims a bar and a shortsword blank, and also asks for one bar of the green metal. The party is uneasy about giving up the green metal, and asks for time to discuss the issue.

In the meantime, Qonos and Skylar talk with the Headmaster of the Order, and are introduced to Daladeriel. The elf had entered the Guild while still young, and it is the Headmaster's wish that he get some "experience" in the real world. After the introductions are made, Qonos and Dal head to the blacksmith's shop, while Skylar spends time researching in the Guild library.

Upon arrival at the Blacksmith's, Dal is handed a bar of the green metal to investigate, and the party adjourns to the Scowling Orc. There, the Companions get acquainted with Dal, but their talk is disrupted by a pounding on the door. The guardsmen outside the door state that the party stands accused of sabotage, theft, espionage, and even murder! Dal is quickly handed the teleportation helm by Brynn, and returns to his cell in the Guild. It would not do, thinks the party, to have him and the green metal be discovered with the party!

The party is lead to the chambers of a Justicar to stand trial, and upon hearing the charges, are allowed to give their side of the story. Even under a truth-reading spell, the group's story does not match with the events given the Justicar. The group demands to face their accuser, and so Subguildmistress Gwynnth is summoned. Having been awoken abruptly, she is none-to-pleased to be brought before the Justicar, but is soon put in her place by him. Under the same truth spell, Gwynnth tells her side of the story - and is found to be truthful as well.

It is thought that the four Guild guardsmen (Four Stooges) were acting on their own. Perhaps both the party and the Subguildmistress were lied to. In any case, both parties are allowed to leave, the investigation (and the charges) being put in abeyance for now. The party returns to the Inn to rest for the remainder of the night.

The next morning, they call upon Dal, and find that he has divined the powers of the green metal. It seems as though the metal is anathema to growing plants, especially in its pure form. The party decides that this is not a good thing, especially in a town where the forest is attempting to gain back what has been claimed by Everlund townsfolk over the centuries. They are not much heartened to hear that with powerful magic, the "blight" effect can be turned to a protection from plants. Either way, they figure, this metal has got to go.

Brynn claims back the Teleportation Helm, and quickly heads to Merikest, to call upon friend Humphrey, the Sage. After explaining the situation to Lad, he is brought to Humphrey's study, and discusses it with the sage. All he is looking for, says Brynn, is a safe location for the metal until they can find a means to destroy it. Humphrey agrees, and with a wave of his hand, sends the metal elsewhere. Satisfied (and a little impressed), Brynn returns to Everlund and fills the party in on what has transpired.

Soon, talk goes back to Dal. The party decides that they need to know the capabilities of their new companion, and what better way than to battle test him. Knowing that the area around Everlund is practically crawling with all kinds of challenges, the group heads through the North Gate, past the Thayan Enclave, and into the hills. A short hour finds them scouting footprints of large humanoids, before finding a "suitable" victim.

Brynn shows great restraint as he points out a hill giant on the trail ahead, and does not immediately attack. Athena stands behind Dal, with Qonos to one side, and Genoa to the other. "There he is, behind the rocks, Dal" Brynn says. And with that, the elvish wizard opens up combat with a fireball!

The Hill giant, hurt and startled into action, advances towards the “little ones” down the hill, only to be hit by a magic missile from Dal. Genoa, unable to restrain herself when faced by her people's mortal enemy, casts a suffocating spell upon the giant. Unable to breathe, the large brute appears disoriented, but still rushes forth to attack.

In a moment, the druid is slammed by the club wielded in its huge hand. Several times, the giant raises its arm and the club, and rains blows down upon her. A few hits later, and the druid is greatly wounded. Brynn runs up to the giant, to draw the attention onto himself, and give Genoa a chance to recover. Athena also runs up, and attempts to heal the druid.

Calculatingly, Dal launches another fireball, set to detonate beside and behind the giant, avoiding damage to his new found companions. Burned, scored by blades, and unable to breathe, the giant lashes out again. Once more scoring hits upon the druid - only the actions of the cleric keep her standing.

Brynn unsheathes his swords and uses them to deadly effect as he whittles away at the creature, its blood making footing treacherous. Dal summons arrows of arcane force, which thud into the giant's chest with deadly accuracy. Its life having fled, the behemoth falls to the ground, to rise no longer.

The party hears the sounds of more giants heading their way, so they quickly gather what effects the giant had, and make their way back to town quickly. Within their room, (after ignoring the looks received by the tavern patrons), they sort through the loot while Athena uses her innate abilities to clean them of the dirt, grime, and blood from the quick but messy fight.

Based on what they saw, they feel the addition of the mage to the party a good one, and look forward to the coming challenges. The elf mage doesn't appear quite as convinced, however...

 

[Softwind]

Twice betrayed!

Thirty-Second Session (Sept 03)

Early the next morning, there is a knocking at the door to the room the party shares. While the rest of the party groans in frustration, Athena opens the door to see a young human boy bearing a summons from the Guild of Mining & Merchants. They are requested to arrive at the 6th Hour past noon that very day.
Upset, the group discusses their options. Tired of the constant accusations, troubles and trials, the party echoes Brynn's sentiment about being accosted so often in Everlund. Less than 3 days in town, and already so much had happened! Reluctantly, they agree that going to the Guild is in their best interest, if only to find out what is going on.

They spend the day attending to tasks, shopping, researching, caring for weapons, eating. Tombit attempts to make up for lost meals by gorging himself on "egg pie" in the tavern's eating room, as Athena looks on with amusement. Genoa and Brynn head to the Green Hall to relax and attend to their companions. Skylar returns with Daladariel to the Mage Guild's library to study the history of the Tri-Towns founding, and Qonos attends his trainer in the learning of the Arts of a Bladesinger. (Mostly, he runs, tumbles, and recites poetry)

Skylar determines that she would like to try to use one of the party's magic items, something determined to be Oil of Increase. This rare alchemetical elixer is said to have the ability to alter an item's properties, whether by granting a power or an increase in effectiveness. While applying it to her bow, she sees a minor glow from within the wood. Then she and Dal spend several hours trying to divine what has occured. From what they can tell, two effects have occured - the bow will now embue arrows with a Shock effect, and the bow itself adds a Commanding air to the wielder. Skylar is quite pleased with her new "acquisition".

On the way back from the Green Hall, Brynn spies a wanted poster, posted by the Guild of Mining and Merchants, with the name and description of a halfelf by the name of Shiara - the same woman that Skylar was mistaken for! Brynn rips the poster off the board, and hurries back to the Inn to share with his traveling companions.

Between the wanted poster and the summons to the Guild, the party is very curious, and not a little apprehensive. Still, with nothing else to do, they head to the Guild Hall. At the front door, they show the summons to the none-too-friendly guards, and are allowed inside, where a servant guides them to an ornate door. Seemingly made of gold with inset gems, some members of the party are sorely tempted to, ahem, aquire some of the trappings. They are forestalled when the door opens and they are admitted inside.

At first confusing the chamber for Subguildmistress Gwynnth's, they are suprised to see an older human gentleman seated at the desk at the far end of the room. (They had assumed that Gwynnth summoned them, since the note bore no signature, albeit being written in a masculine hand) They are invited to seat themselves in the chairs arranged before the desk, and help themselves to the libations prepared. The dwarves take it as their due, and drink, finding it to be passingly well made ale. Tombit fidgets, not trusting the situation. Indeed, the rest of the party has trepidations still as to the reason behind the summons.

The elder gentleman looks familiar, and the party realizes that this is the self-same man who hired them in Merikest to clear the Silverhall Mines. Some members of the party (Qonos, Dal) do not recognize him, never having met him, and so he introduces himself as Guildmaster Harncar. He inquires of the party the state of the mines, and wants to know of their progress. He is taken aback to hear that the mines have been cleared for some time now, ready to be claimed again by the dwarven miners, and asks many more questions. Harncar seems unaware of his lieutenant Gwynnth's actions in this matter, and so he summons her to his chamber.

Gwynnth arrives shortly with her guards, and is momentarily taken aback at the presence of the party. Harncar waves aside her questions, and proceeds to ask her pointedly what has been going on. Gwynnth begins to tell her version of the story, which contradicts certain parts of the party's story. In order to get the full story, Harncar calls for more witnesses to the events - and Larry and Shemp arrive shortly!

To aid in the questioning, Athena offers to cast Zone of Truth, and the offer is accepted. With the spell active, Harncar turns to Gwynnth and asks why he has not been informed of her activities, and of certain matters in the Guild itself. Her silence seems to imply culpability in recent events, and neither Larry or Shemp add much to the discussion. Genoa cast Command "Tell the truth" at the same time Athena casts Suggestion "Talk", and under the force of the three spells active, Gwynnth blurts out "I want you dead!" as she points to Harncar. And then she shouts "Kill him!" Her guards, including Larry and Shemp, jump into action.

Tombit, having been a typical Halfling and bored by the talk, talk, talk had been poised for such a possibility. As soon as Gwynnth revealed her true colors, he leaps to the desk in front of Harcar, brandishing a book to defend the Guildmaster from attack. Genoa cast "Tortoiseshell" about the guildmaster for protection. Brynn and Qonos unsheathe their weapons, and Skylar steps back for a clean shot at the attackers.

Athena is caught by surprise, but readies her weapon for the ensuing attack. Dal, ever cautious as a good mage should be, standing behind the chairs, has a good view of the combatants. His readied spell hits the chest of one of the guards, and the acid arrow begins to eat away the armor on the man.

Larry and Shemp fan out to attack the party, with axe and broadsword, while Gwynnth casts Mirror Image upon herself in preperation for the coming attack. Her remaining guard jumps to the dais to attack the Guildmaster. In the next moment, under concerted attacks by Dal, Qonos, and Brynn, the extra images of Gwynnth disappear. Genoa, standing besides the cowering Harncar, comes under attack by the wounded guard, and is hit several times by his axe.

Dal casts empowered Magic Missiles towards the guards, injuring them such that attacks by Brynn and Qonos slip past and heighten the injuries. Athena steps up to wield scimitar and mace against the man, furthering the wounds. The injured guard near Harncar swings his mighty axe again, causing Genoa to go down, unconscious from injuries. Tombit rushes to her aid, defending her prone body from further attacks. In the mean time, Guildmaster Harncar cowers beneath the magic shell that protects him from attack.

Dispatching Shemp with artful sword strokes, Brynn focuses on Larry, demanding surrender. Larry continues his grim battle, and is further injured by Qonos. Dal fires more Empowered Magic Missiles into Gwynnth and the axe-wielding guard on the dais. The strengthened missiles sorely injure Gwynnth, causing her to slump - and then vanish in a puff of smoke! The party cries out in dismay at the loss of their foe, but quickly turn back to the on-going battle. Athena rushes to aid Genoa, to heal her and bring her from death's door. Larry again is given a chance to surrender, especially now that his mistress is gone, but he refuses, even unto death dealt by Brynn. The dwarven ranger feels but a small pang at this, having offered surcease many times to his opponent.

With acid continuing to eat away at his breastplate and the flesh beneath, the axe-wielding guard grasps a small sphere from a necklace, and throws it to the ground - and then all is fire! The resultant explosion, and the ones following as the remainder of the necklace also explodes, kills the axe-wielder and another guard, while the party manage to escape only partially scorched. Harncar and Genoa, huddling under the Tortoiseshell, are not even affected by the blasts.

The last enemy being dispatched, Genoa lets her spell lapse, and is quickly attended to by Athena. The maternal gnome bustles about, tending to wounds, as Brynn surveys the rubble of the once-impressive office of Harncar. Recovering his wits, the Guildmaster thanks the party profusely for their timely assistance in saving his life, and promises rewards, to be named later, once he has fully recovered from the shock.

The party asks a boon of the Guildmaster, to have him use his influence to clear their names with the Justicar. This he promises to do, and more besides. With this assurance, they leave the Guildmaster to recover with help from his assistants, who come rushing in moments later.

Sore and tired, the band returns to the Scowling Orc, to ponder the events that have taken place. They decide to busy themselves, to keep their minds off of events they seem to have no control over.

The mage Daladariel returns to his Guild, to research the events that lead the dwarves, gnomes, and Halflings ancestors of the tri-town townsfolk to make a long journey and found the towns in the first place. He is joined by Brynn and Genoa who, with the promise of ale to wet their throats, will tell tales to Daladariel that may assist him in the search. Skylar also heads to the Mage Guild, in the hopes of scribing from Dal's spellbook anything she feels is lacking from her own. Qonos again looks up his trainer, to continue his lessons. Athena goes shopping for Alchemistical components, feeling their stock of potions is growing low.

 

[Softwind]

Call for assistance

Thirty-third Session (Oct 03)

The party spends a week in shopping, scribing, and studying, and is prepared to answer a call for help when it comes. The druid high priestess Aranthea requests the party’s presence in the Green Hall, where she reveals that she has been feeling a disturbance in the natural order of things. The sensation originates to the north, along the Everlund Pass, near the small village of Sumpter. When all the party is gathered together, Aranthea's friend Shokan teleports them to the Pass, a days journey from the town.
Heat and humidity is the first thing noticed when they arrive. For a region of the country fast entering Autumn, the weather is very much… peculiar. Shouldering their gear, the group enters the forest on a small trail that branches off from the main road they found themselves on. The smell that assails them the further they go is of rot, mildew and decay. Not the smell of a normal, healthy forest. The rangers and druid express their unease more frequently the farther they follow the trail.

As dusk fast approaches, the trail opens up unto a small village. The ground soggy beneath their feet, they enter the central square, the eyes of the villagers upon them. One brave individual comes up to the party, asking if they are the aid that they have called for. Expressing confusion at the question, the party listens as the tale, albeit jumbled, is told. For some time, the entire area around the town has been under plague of hostile weather. The heat and humidity have been constant for months, and until recently, they had been under constant deluge of rain. All the crops have succumbed, the trees in the orchards rotting where they stand, the food stores are destroyed by mildew and mold, and the forest wildlife is striking in their absence. Without outside assistance, the village looks to starve in half a week.

As night has fallen, the group decides to locate lodging for the night at the only inn in town, the Lone Tree, run by Samus. They are given two rooms of their choice, being the only outsiders in town currently. Dal sends his pseudodragon familar out to scout, as does Qonos with his raven. Both animals return shortly, tired from constant oppression of the heat and humidity. Strange figures were seen in the forest, but no details were discerned. The party decides to investigate in the morning. The ranger and druid shrink their animal companions to fit them within the Inn, much to the discomfort of the innkeeper - but who is he to argue?

As the sun arises in the east, the party is awoken to screams from outside the inn. Leaping up (and for some, out the window), the party rushes into the common square to determine the source of the cry. There they find a hysterical woman pointing to the edge of the forest. When they investigate, they find the savaged corpses of two young men - Cale and Kalda, the same two that had been sent out earlier to get assistance for the village. Form their wounds, it appeared as though something had clawed them to death... taking large portions of their bodies with them.

Brynn scouts the area for tracks, and finds several of unknown origin. He motions for the rest of the party to follow. Skylar also watches the trail, and her keen elf eyes see further marks that had gone unnoticed by Brynn. He covers his embarrassment with a hurried pace, and the group finds itself deep within the woods in moments, still following the strange marks in the rain-softened earth.

The party is taken by surprise some time later as the trees themselves seem to come alive and attack. Looking about, they realize that while the things attacking them look on the surface to be trees (cactus), they bear the humanoid shape of two "arms", two "legs" and a "head", although no features are discernable.

With battle joined, the group leaps into action. Daladariel casts Magic Missile at the nearest target, staggering it. Genoa summons an Elemental of Earth to battle for her, targeting it near another of the plant creatures. Skylar, true to form, unslings her bow and revels in the new effectiveness it has, as the energy-infused shafts strike true, crackling with electricity, as they hit. She spares a brief moment mourning the loss of each arrow as they are consumed by the raw power of the enchantments placed upon them by her bow, but their new effectiveness outweighs her concern.

Brynn, arms crossed before his mighty chest, unsheathes his swords and crashes into the fray, his blades cutting a swath of destruction upon the plant-thing before him. Tombit slips into the shadows where he observes the battle, looking for likely targets, and searches out amongst the trees for any other hidden opponents. While he looks, he readies the light crossbow recently acquired from a previous encounter.

Athena, her friends under siege, pulls from her waist her mace and scimitar, her countenance grim, in opposition to her normal easy grin. Tightly gripped, the weapons reach out to crush and slash her opponents. In a few sure strokes, one creature lays upon the ground, unmoving. Qonos follows behind, his single sword dancing in the wan sunlight to cut deeply into his foe, and dancing out again, almost quicker than eye can follow.

Their surprise shattered, the plant creatures move quickly, targeting the party with thorns fired seemingly from their bodies, or reaching out claws to crush and rip. They seem intent in closing upon the elves of the group, and Skylar, Daladeriel, and Qonos come under concerted attack. Many of the attacks prove ineffectual against the skill and finesse of the party. It seems likely that the months of experience in battle have proven to be of aid in avoiding the strange plant-creatures attacks. However, even experienced adventurers take a misstep on occasion, and some of the attacks strike their marks.

In response, Daladerial casts Haste upon the party, the arcane energies infusing them, causing their actions to increase in speed as the world appears to slow about them. Genoa calls upon the forces of nature to surround her and her closer companions in a mystic shield of energy (Antiplant Shield) that keeps the plantkin a distance away. Tombit, unaware of the invisible shield about him, waits for a creature to approach closer.

Brynn, already outside the protection, seeks another opponent to cut down, his previous target being eliminated with sure strokes of his blades. Qonos too looks about for a place in which to place the edge of his longsword. They hurry to where a gathering of the green creatures advances. Skylar scans the woods, and upon sighting a plantkin approaching, draws back the string of her bow. Somehow confused, her dexterity fails her, and she promptly flings the bow some distance from herself. Startled, she watches as her weapon lands beneath a nearby tree.

Athena moves near the summoned earth elemental, busy with a plantkin, and attacks a second target nearby. Genoa summons forth another elemental, this time the invisible Harrier, and commands it to assist the earth elemental already engaged. Between the two summoned creatures, the plant being is decimated. Tombit realizes that something is preventing the creature near him from coming closer, so he fires two bolts from the crossbow, injuring and slowing the plantkin.

The walking plants, their numbers diminished by the party, nonetheless continue the assault, firing thorns into the members of the group not covered by the Antiplant Shield cast by Genoa. The creatures seem unperturbed that many of their attacks prove ineffectual, as they continue to fire their needles, and reach out with their wooden claws.

Moving quickly, thanks to the Haste spell from Daladariel, both Brynn and Qonos take down their respective foes, before moving on to new ones. Athena seeks out injured members of the party to heal before returning to combat. Skylar recovers her bow, and in the process, fires upon a plant creature nearby. Tombit continues his attacks with the crossbow, seriously injuring the one attacking Skylar. Dal again summons forth mystic energy to strike with Magic Missiles, the bolts unerringly finding their marks.

Under the combined, relentless assault from the party members, the remaining plant creatures are hunted down and destroyed, their vegetable-matter bodies steaming in the hot sun. Exhausted by the battle in the oppressive heat, the party slumps to the ground and fall into a stupor.

 

[Softwind]

Dream sequence

Thirty-fourth Session (Oct 03) [Given to the players to read]

Exhausted in the heat, but mostly uninjured, you survey the scene of battle with the strange plant-men. Your sight wavers, and you shake your head to clear your vision, only to have your eyes water and your head spin. You look around in panic as you feel the world collapsing, feeling a strange sort of relief when you realize that it is not the world, but you, and your companions, who are falling.

You go to your knees as vertigo overwhelms you, your awareness of your surroundings dimming. All goes dark as your head hits the ground.

You find yourself in a featureless gray environment, devoid of useful references – no air seems to move, no scents to stimulate your nose, no sounds impinge upon your ears, no time seems to pass; or at least, any you can discern, with nothing to differentiate one moment from the next.

Suddenly (or slowly, who can tell?), air moves across your skin, the breeze growing stronger. A faint odor of brimstone and hot metal comes to your nose. A rhythmic thudding is soon evident, sounding like footsteps, heavy trodding approaching.

The source is revealed to be a figure you feel you have seen before, albeit in a dream. Clad in loose robes, very little can be seen of the true appearance of the person, save a pair of gnarled hands, and the toes of heavy boots emerging from the bottom of the garments.

The figure’s head moves slowly, side to side, as if looking for something… or someone. For even though it stands no more than five paces from you, it seems not to notice you. Side to side, slower and slower, back and forth, back and forth… and stops, staring straight at you… and your companions. For now, by your side, stand the other members of your party. Together, you face the cowled figure, as it lifts its hands and pulls back the hood. First impressions aside, the face revealed is enough to cause anyone to draw back, for the scars, from weapon and flame, grant the man a diabolic visage. The grin that follows gives no relief to the sight before you.

“Well, well”, he says. “Perhaps the time has come after all. I feared I would grow tired of the hunt. You have been elusive; I will grant that to you. Oh, all save your elven companions… they were not so difficult to find.” His chuckle disturbs you. He waves at you expansively, “Only the small and stout ones are necessary, the rest of you“, pointing to those of elven blood, “can… die.”

His hands crackle with a baleful energy as he raises them in a strike – only to be halted by something that catches his attention behind you. The nimbus surrounding him dims, and he lowers his arms slowly.

“You!” the breath barely escaping the ruined lips. His hands whip up, the energy renewed, and bolts of raw energy crackle over your heads, towards a yet-unseen target. The expected burst of arcane energy does not come, and you turn to see what has transpired. Standing several paces away is the other figure you have seen in your dreams, or heard about from your companions at least. Appearances being deceiving, you can not afterwards describe the person you see; but are left with a feeling of presence. The figure speaks not as the dark energy surrounding him fades away, like smoke on the wind. He raises strong, tender hands as in benediction upon you, and then raises them higher as his own fingers glow golden, and fire streams from them towards the first figure, only to splash against a mystic shield.

Feeling discretion the better part of valor, you move aside while the two opponents face off. And move farther away as the atmosphere increasingly heats up. Spheres, bolts, and clouds of energy obscure your vision, preventing you from seeing any details of the struggle. On it rages, until you are near to blinded by the light, deafened by the noise, and suffocated by the mixed stench of fire, brimstone, hot metal and gases. And then, with a mighty screech, yanked from the very depths of the pit itself (or so it seems), it is over. The noise quiets. The lights fade. The wind, present throughout, clears the miasma, revealing a lone figure standing, but barely, clenching a tattered robe. He grins weakly, and crumples.

You run to assist him. The healers of the group are dismayed that their connection to the divine is weak in this area, but what aid you provide is enough to strengthen him, so he is able to sit up. Seeing the concern and the questions in your eyes, he reassures you that he will survive, given time. He smiles wanly. His form flickers briefly, but with a grimace, he stands up.

“Somehow, even with my efforts, he is getting stronger. And my abilities do not increase in such proportion. He has worked his way past the enchantments woven about you, and I cannot strengthen what he has already removed.” He sighs deeply. “However, he cannot find that which he does not know. To succeed, you must change. Even the subtlest of alterations should suffice. Your core essence will remain the same, but will be clothed in different skills, abilities, mindsets. Grant me a moment, and we shall begin.”

***

You remember the words. You remember the inflection. But you cannot remember much else about the being in the other realm. For now, you stand back in the heat and humidity near the town of Sumpter, the remains of the plant-kin steaming in the sun like so much mulch. You look around, your initial passing glance stopping on your companions. Or at least you think they are… there is something different about them somehow
Shaking off the dream, the party looks itself over. Subtle and not so subtle differences are seen in most, although the newest member of the party seems mostly the same, the party not familiar enough with Daladariel to note changes.

 

[Softwind]

“Great.” Brynn rubs his forehead. “We come out here looking for answers, an’ someone hands us more questions.”

“It does seem as there is another Power at work here. Who were those two, in the vision I presume we all shared?” The mage picks himself up and tries to rub off the mud clinging to his robes. The mud just smears across his garb, and he gives up in disgust. “Where is a basin with warm water, and fire-heated towels when you need them?” he inwardly bemoans.

“One be who we know as ‘The Master’. He’s the one what took our kin. As for the other, well,” _shrug_ “He’s ‘The Other’. Whoever he be, he’s a helpful sort.” Brynn cleans his blades of the sap and ichor that covers them, and stands up. His gaze takes in the sunlight beating its way past the trees to the forest floor below. “We’ve got more day ahead o’ us. Let’s use it to track down this hermit druid what lives here somewhere.”

Groaning and grumbling meets this announcement, but the party is soon ready to move again. At Brynn’s suggestion, they head towards the lake said to be nearby. Qonos volunteers to return to the village of Sumpter, to inform them of the progress made thus far, and perhaps to learn more of what the party faces. The rest of the Companions continue their march after they watch the bladesinger disappear into the woods, heading towards the town.

Their steps are heavy, as they slough through the morass of mud and decaying vegetation, but soon they see the trees opening up onto the waters of the lake. As they draw nearer, they are assailed by the overwhelming smells of rot, decay, and putrescence, stronger as they step out from the cover of the forest.

The sand of the lake shore is covered with the corpses of countless fish, and rotting plants - the waters are dark with algae and sediment. Walking forward cautiously, the sharp eyed among the party notice something shiny near the surface of the water, just a few feet from the shore.

“Do you think it’s safe?” someone asks.
“Not sure. Odd that the rest is so murky, but whatever it is shows through.”

Tombit wraps a rope around his waist, silently hands an end to Brynn, and wades into the lake, towards the items. He abruptly disappears as the shore immediately drops away from the surface, and he sinks quickly. Brynn tenses, but as the rope remains slack, he relaxes. Looking back at the rest of the group, he shrugs, a sort of helpless disgruntled look on his face. “Fool Halfling,” he mutters.

As he sinks towards the lake bottom, Tombit realizes that the shiny objects must be closer to the surface. He moves to kick his way upward; only to get entangled in what appears to be kelp. Kelp that moves contrary to the water, on its own accord, entwining around the Halfling’s limbs. Tombit struggles against the weeds, kicking and tearing at the grasping plant. “Oops.”

“Holding my breath is the easy part. I wonder which will give up the hold first though – my breath, or these weeds?” Stopping his struggles a moment to ponder this, he realizes that what holds him is not kelp, but the tentacles of some large creature. “Oh, bother.” His struggles begin in earnest. “That’s it, I’m swearing off seafood.”

On the shore, the waters beginning to roil, the shiny objects Tombit was so intent on disappearing in the resultant whirl of sediment. Brynn feels the rope go taut as Tombit yanks on it from under the water. “You two, get over here! He wants up, but it feels like somethin’ got ‘im.”

Athena and Skylar hurry over to the rope, to help pull the soggy monk up. Daladariel, sensing something else is the matter, focuses on his staff, and releases the Haste spell from within it. The magic cascades over the gathered group, including the submerged Halfling.

“I’m casting Lower Water!” Genoa shouts, pointing in the vicinity of the tendrils that suddenly emerge from the surface of the water, and as the waters recedes, gasps at the creature revealed. Fully thirty feet across, the thing appears to be a mass of writhing tentacles, with a relieved but still entangled monk in the midst of it. Daladariel steps up, chuckling in glee, as he launches a fireball to the “backside” of the exposed monster. “I *love* that spell!” The resulting blast and wave of heat relaxes the beast’s grasp on Tombit, as he falls twenty feet to the muck below. The monk tries to look dignified as he wipes away the grime covering him; “I meant to do that,” he asserts to no one in particular.

Karazak, seeing his kitty-chew-toy, er, friend Tombit assaulted, leaps at the tentacles in front of him, biting and raking them severely. Daladariel casts Fireball again, but the pea-sized globe encounters a hidden barrier halfway to its destination, and detonates above the party, causing damage to the mage and archer. Skylar’s arrows also deflect off the wall, harmlessly shattering some distance from the creature.

The tentacles have no problem moving around the wall of force, as they reach out and grab Genoa, crushing the wind from her. The animal companions go into a fury, attacking any tendril they can reach, as Brynn works his way past the wall. He avoids the grasping tentacles, and makes his way into the lakebed to attack the main body of the creature. He is joined by Tombit as the two of them strike at the belly of the beast. The ranger is flung back several times by lashing tendrils, trying to deter his attacks, but he picks himself up from the mire and strides back into battle each time. Tombit artfully dodges any blows directed his way, and continues the assault. Between the damage dealt to the many tentacles by the party, and the repeated blows to its body, the creature eventually succumbs and slumps into death.

Panting heavily, the party’s sense of smell impinges on their awareness, the rotting bog smell upstaged by blood, burnt flesh and hair, and the creature’s stench itself. Like a beached fish too long in a hot sun. By effort of will, and much gulping back of bile, the Companions retain their last meal, and take a literal step back, taking in the scene.

Athena shakes herself off, and notices several party members bear wounds and burns. She bustles between Daladariel, Brynn and Tombit, closing wounds they only barely remember receiving in the heat of battle, tsk’ing the whole time. “You all right then, Tombit? Good. Daladariel, let me take a look at that. Tsk. That’s a nasty burn. Here, this will help. Ahh. Better? Good!” The party members smile at each other as she makes her rounds.

“How long will the water stay away, Genoa?” asks Brynn, nervously eyeing the liquid wall towering above him, as Athena finishes healing his cuts and bruises. He rotates his shoulder, feeling the stiffness and pain subside beneath the warmth of Athena’s hands.

“Lessee. At least another couple of minutes, I would guess,” comes the reply.

“You *guess*?!?”

“Uh huh. We’d better hurry, just in case.”

Brynn and Genoa turn to find Tombit already busy collecting the items spotted before. A finely crafted hammer, of obvious dwarven make, is handed to Brynn, while the masterwork battleaxe and flail are handed to Athena, who carries a Handy Haversack. These are followed by several grime covered gems and gold coins – the early remains of the beast’s previous victims. Other items, more perishable and thus mostly ruined, are left behind. Athena casts prestidigitation to clear the worst of the mud off the party, although the odor lingers in all they wear.

Brynn points towards the woods, when all the party is around him. “Let’s move away from the lake and into the trees again. They might provide some relief from this heat.” Finding a suitable spot under cover of trees, far from the stench of the lake, the group of weary adventurers settles in for a midday nap. Brynn casts about them an Alarm spell, to rouse the party should anything come nearby. Daladariel quickly falls asleep, to reclaim spent spells; his tired body and mind taking no note of his rough bedding amidst decaying leaves. Skylar, having expended no spells, stays awake to watch over the party. Later, Genoa, her devotions done, awakens to takes the second watch, granting Skylar time for reverie. It is upon the druid’s watch that the Alarm spell is audibly triggered.

Mobile plant creatures surround the party, seeming to emerge from the trees themselves. As before, they seem focused on the elves in the party. Three of the needlemen fall in fast succession to Athena, Tombit and Genoa, before they even draw close. Additional, larger ones take the place of those fallen.

With a snarl, a hot and frustrated cougar rushes one as it draws near, with Tombit following on his heels. Between the two felinoids, the fourth Needleman is severely mauled but still mobile. It retaliates against its attackers, flinging needles at Karazak. The big cat feels a tremor in his muscles as the poison courses through his body, and yowls his displeasure.

“Stay close, my friends.” Daladariel releases a Haste spell, and encompasses the party in the magic. Brynn’s obvious pleasure in the spell brings a smile to the mage’s face. “Oh, yeah, I’m a Haste junkie! Come on!” he shouts to the hostile foliage.

Disturbed by his large cat-friend’s reaction to the needles, Tombit is distracted and unable to land a hit against the Needleman. Neither does Karazak, as he stumbles about in his weakened condition. Genoa rushes to their side and attacks the plant creature with her scimitar, anger goading her on. Her animal companion, Timber, shies from combat, and refuses to draw close. Even with obvious wounds leaking abundant amounts of a sap like substance, the Needleman remains standing.

Brynn, his attention focused on more of the creatures arriving, does not see Karazak get injured, and moves away from the camp, looking for more of the creatures. Skylar spies one and fires repeatedly, but the brush obscures the shot. Genoa kills the target she shares with Tombit and Karazak, and looks around for more opponents.

Skylar’s next shots are more accurate, as she lands three staggering attacks on a Needleman emerging right next to Brynn. Feeling the shafts pass next to his head, he turns to shout at her before noticing the dead creature nearby. “Er, nice shot!” he shouts to her. Turning back, he spies movement and rushes to engage, only to be hit multiple times by a hidden assailant, his blood flowing freely from multiple wounds. His dwarven constitution makes short work of the poison, but the wounds themselves weaken him anyway. A surprised “Oof,” is his only comment.

“Oh no you don’t! HiiiiYAH!” Tombit’s small but skilled hands whip out and land a killing shot as his opponent turns to flee. “Meow!” he says in satisfaction. Daladariel nervously scans the surrounding woods, but sees nothing he can safely target other than his friends. He declines to take the shot.

Genoa moves up to Tombit as yet another creature emerges from the trees. “Where are all these coming from?” Tombit, busily watching the surrounding foliage, looks at her and shrugs, and looks back as he hears another crashing through the plants before him. He dodges away from Genoa’s wild scimitar swing towards the creature, and back into the fray, barely acknowledging her embarrassed, “Sorry”. He’s beaten to the punch as Daladariel sends several Magic Missiles into his target, but gets his chance to strike as the plant creature tries to retreat.

Across the clearing, Brynn rains down several mighty blows upon his attacker, cutting open gashes that weep sap like blood. Several arrow shafts appear in its chest, sent by Skylar. Brynn glances over his shoulder to see the elf archer raising her bow in triumph overhead. “&%*^ elf, taking my kills.” He grumbles, not really upset, as he looks for another target. “Two can play that game, *mumble, grumble*.” He sheathes his swords and draws his bow, keen eyes trying to pierce the foliage around him.

Tombit leaps at the fleeing Needleman, and tackles it to the ground, narrowly avoiding the poison needles that cover its body. Karazak takes the opportunity to retreat and lick his wounds, whimpering from the venom still in his body. “Hold still, you walking lumber stack,” Tombit cries, struggling with the creature beneath him. Abruptly, those struggles intensify as Daladariel fires empowered Magic Missiles into it, and Tombit is pierced multiple times by foot long needles. Genoa rushes to the Halfling’s aid. “Hold still. This.. won’t.. hurt.. a BIT!” the last shouted as her scimitar slips between the monk’s outstretched arms and pierces the Needleman. With a heave, the creature flings off the Halfling, and runs, narrowly avoiding the attacks of opportunity by the two.

“Not taday, ye don’t.” The feathers and nocks of several arrows are all that are seen in the creatures back as it collapses to the ground, dead.

“Awesome shot, Skylar!” Tombit yells.

“A-HEM!”

“Yes, Brynn? Oh. Um. Nice shots, Brynn. Huh? What was that? I couldn’t hear you with all that mumbling you’re doing.” The Halfling wanders over to the corpse, and pokes at the shafts. *poing, poing*

Again, Athena is called upon to ply her healing art, as she uses her Caduceus stick to close wounds. Her supply of antidote is exhausted as she pours several vials down the throats of those afflicted by the Needleman poison. “Tsk. We’ll need to stock up on more of those, and soon.”

Nearby, Skylar and her dwarven waraxe begin a discussion.

“I’m an ARCHER, you dumb hunk o’ metal. Why would I want to wade into combat? I’m perfectly happy with my bow!”

“Listen, girlie. I didn’t get bequeathed to you tae decorate yer backside. I want ACTION. Use me, darn it!”

*Sigh* “All right. If only because I still miss Grimnyr. Even if he was a stodgy dwarf and all…” The axe’s reply is somehow muffled as she slides the weapon into it’s sheathe on her back. She stands up, brushes off the twigs, and wanders over to Tombit, busily checking the bodies of the plant creatures. Her nose wrinkles up in evident disgust as the Halfling buries his arm up to his elbow in the body cavity of one.

“What *are* you doing, furfoot?”

“Yipe! Warn a body when you are sneakin’ up on em! I’m, ah, well, looting. These things are mostly hollow inside, and apparently don’t, er, pass hard objects.” He pulls his arm out, and opens his clenched hand, revealing several tarnished coins and a purple gem. “See?” He holds up his hand, dripping sap, for Skylar to better examine his find. She steps back, catching a whift of fresh Needleman innards, and murmurs a quick, “Urg, that’s okay. Um, good job on finding that stuff..” Under her breath, she finishes, “not that I want to know *how*.”

 

[Softwind]

Turnip – Root of Evil

Session 34 (Oct 03) [Part one]

“All right. So we’re in th’ middle of a forest turned swamp. Strange creatures wander th’ woods, and all normal animals are notable in their absence. The weather is too hot and wet for this time o’ year, and has been for months, accordin’ to th’ folk in town. The townsfolk are starvin’ but too stubborn tae leave the area. And…“ Brynn lets the word linger in the air, “We have a hermit who may, er may not, be a druid, and may, er may not, be causin’ all this.”

He looks over the gathered party members. “So where we go from here?” The Companions look at each other, thinking their own thoughts. Athena pipes up, “We need to find out whatever is causing this, and right it, somehow. It’s your teaching that tells me that.” She nods at Brynn, her mentor in the ways of the ranger. “It’s just a matter of figuring out where to start.”

Brynn turns to Genoa. “This is in yer area of expertice. Since yer a druid, you might know this. Can a druid cause all this?” His gesture takes in the sky and forest.

“Yyyyyeessss. Yes, I’d say that it would be within a druid’s power to alter the weather. Perhaps even call these creatures here. But,” her voice quavers, almost wailing, “I don’t know wwhhyyyy. It goes against all I know and hold dear. All that the man who adopted me, and whom I called father, stood for…” She lapses into silence. Brynn lays a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Genoa,” he asks, quieter, “Can you track a druid, if he or she has been in these woods?”

“No.”

“No?” Brynn is surprised. “Why not?”

“The very same reason you could not track me, if I chose not to leave marks of my passage. A druid is attuned to all that is natural around her. If she wishes to leave no trace, she does not. The same goes for this hermit, whom I believe is a druid as well. I have seen no evidence of his being here, but his touch is evident on these woods. That touch is faltering though, as if nothing strengthens it any longer. Almost as if he has left this area…” She lapses into silence.

“Hunh. Okay. We’ll just have to hope we stumble onto where he holed up then.”

“If I may,” Daladariel raises his hand. “I speak for myself, and perhaps others here, when I request rest. At least some time to refresh my mind, and memorize spells used recently.”

“Ah, of course, of course. My apologies, Mage. Okay, we rest now, and think of how to locate this druid.” Brynn sets the perimeter for his Alarm spell, and resting his back against a tree, sets watch. Daladariel lays down to rest, secure in the knowledge that he is watched over. The hours pass uneventfully, albeit uncomfortably in the heat and humidity.

While she waits, Genoa decides to cast Speak with Plants, in the hope that the trees may have seen something noteworthy. Brynn and the animals watch as a noise like wind through leaves comes from her mouth, and a similar sound comes from the tree she speaks to, even as no breeze disturbs the plants. She whispers “Thank you,” and casts Increased Growth upon the area, to speed recovery.

She returns to Brynn’s side, and discusses what she has learned. Tombit, Skylar and Athena wander over to listen, while the elven mage remains in his reverie. Genoa describes the impressions she gathered from the local plant life, of a figure that takes up residence some distance from here, tending the trees. The trees had not seen this man in some time, but gave Genoa a direction to direct her searches. The Companions mull this over, and wait on the wizard to “awaken”.

He does so soon, and after refreshing his mind and memorizing spells, indicates readiness to continue. He is filled in on what Genoa has learned, as the party moves southward. They come up on a rutted road, made by woodcutters and trappers, and follow it some distance before Brynn halts the party. The dwarf points to marks in the moist soil, his finger following the trail left by something that moved into the shelter of nearby trees – the trail branching at some point, and separating to both sides of the road.

Brynn holds his finger up to his lips, indicating silence, and moves quietly forward, eyes focused on the point where the trail separates. He follows one branch as it disappears at the base of a tree. Looking closer, he realizes the tree has two trunks. He motions for Genoa to join him, and as she does, he whispers, “Can you Speak with Plants that second trunk?” he points.

“Aye.” Again, the wind-through-leaves sound. In a moment, the druid’s face is lined in panic. “All it is interested in is food.”
“And?”
“And, we’re on the menu!”
“Wha-?” The rangers further words are cut off as a vine lashes out and latches around his waist, jerking him from his feet and drawing him in.

His party rushes in, attempting to free him and fight off whatever has got a hold of him. Tombit shimmies up a tree, to look for others that might be hiding in the area. Athena and Skylar reach the creature, just in time to be attacked by it. Athena feels her arms pinned to her side, and being lifted into the air. Skylar receives the broadside of a wooden tendril, knocking her back a step.

“Oh no you don’t!” Tombit yells, as he fires his crossbow into the main body of the creature. His small bolts seem to have minimal affect on the creature as it continues to crush the cleric in its grasp. “Well, crap!” He looks around frantically, trying to find anything that might help, and spies a second creature crossing the road towards them. “Double crap. Incoming!” he shouts to those below.

“I’m on it… er, as soon as this thing lets go a’ me!” Brynn grunts, trying to bring his blades to bear on his captor. He succeeds in driving the points into a joint between tendril and trunk, causing the appendage to spasm and dropping him the short distance to the forest floor. He nimbly ducks beneath the counter-strikes as he heads off the second creature. He passes Daladariel, who is casting Magic Missile, sending four arcane projectiles towards the first target. The impact allows Athena to free her arm wielding the mace, and she puts it to good use, smashing it against the creature.

The plant beast turns towards Daladariel, Athena still in its grasp. Tombit shrugs, and leaps from the tree, landing with claws outstretched. A quick slash, and he leaps off its “back”, landing in the mire, tumbling aside, dodging the return attack. Daladariel is not as successful, as he is grappled by the creature, his wind being crushed from him. “Hurnh! Get *wheeze* this *wheeze* off me!” Suddenly, a dire wolf appears in front of him, and flashing a wolfy grin, proceeds to do just that; grasping the offending limb in her jaws, the druid-turned-wolf prys it from around the mage. “Blech,” Genoa tries to spit out the taste of the sap coating her mouth. She gives the plant creature a dirty look.

“Okay, Grim, here’s your chance. Yaaah!” Skylar screams as she brings the axe down upon the crown of the second creature, that thus-far Brynn had held at bay. As the blade bites deep, a colorful flash momentarily illuminates the creature, and its tendrils go limp. Panting, Brynn looks over at Skylar. “Is it dead?”

“I’m not sure.” The elven archer looks at her axe. “What’d you do?” She only receives a feeling of smugness as her reply. Skylar looks back at Brynn, and shrugs. “Beats me.” She is forestalled by the appearance of Athena at her side, a grim look on her face. Open-handed, the cleric touches the plant creature, and intones the words of a spell. “That’s a healing spell,” Skylar thinks, then reconsiders. “No, that’s a healing spell, backwards… an anti-healing spell? Can she *do*that??” As the plant creature topples over, killed by the spell, Skylar admits the possibility that Athena can, indeed, “do that.”

 

[Softwind]

Death to the turnip

Session 34 (Oct 03) [Part two]

“Whoa.” Both Skylar and Brynn look at each other, and laugh at the simultaneous reaction. Remembering their situation, and the first creature, they glance over at where the battle started. Tombit stands in triumph on the corpse of the first plant creature, with a relieved Daladariel catching his breath. Genoa flashes her friends a toothy grin as her form shimmers back to her normal dwarven appearance.

“Yer gonna have tae show me how tae do that, someday.” Brynn tells her. A helpless shrug is his only answer. The ranger sheathes his weapons after clearing them of sap, and moves to the side of the first creature. He examines the body, looking for clues to what manner of creature it is. His father never mentioned this type of monster. “Then again, there are a lot of things his son discovered that dad never talked about…” Brynn muses. He is both saddened and filled with pride by that thought. He is jolted from his contemplations by Tombit, bumping against him. “Oop, sorry. Just checking to see if these things have anything on, or in, ‘em. A-ha!” The furry monk holds up a scroll case, pulled from inside the creature’s maw, situated on its “head”.

“It nearly choked on that, I believe. That is to say, it would have, had it the chance…”

“Oh, and what’s this? And that? Oooooo. Pretty.”

Brynn ruefully shakes his head, and steps away from the distracted Halfling. Thoughts of home pervade his mind, and he wonders if he shall ever see it again. “Bah, look at yerself. Getting all mopey and havin’ yerself a good pity party. Snap to, dwarf!” he says almost angrily to himself. “Ye’ve got friends relying on ya. Focus on them. They all want to go home too.” He looks back to the monk, forces a grin on his face, and asks, “Whatcher got?”, allowing his friend’s exuberance to pull him from his dark mood.

***

Night eventually falls as they continue south along the road. They remain cautious, and their rate of travel is slow, as they watch in all directions for potential threats. The only sounds are those they make themselves – no one has sighted any sign of animal life; no birds, squirrels, mice, even lizards. Only the perpetual haze of small insects, harmless, is seen.

The Companions decide to halt for the night, as several of them have not slept in some time. Watch is separated between them, with a melee type and a caster on each shift. Genoa stays awake most of the night, the magic of her ring requiring only two hours of sleep, and no need for food or drink. She tends the fire, and takes short circular walks around the camp, while most of her friends slumber. She returns to camp as Daladariel is awoken by Athena to take the next watch.

Half an hour later, Genoa is startled out of her contemplations of the fire by Daladariel’s casting of a spell. Fifty feet from the party, hailstones suddenly appear from a cloudless sky and pelt the trees and ground. As the ice steams in the heat, the mage casts again, this time a Fireball lights up the night.

“Are you CRAZY?” the druid shouts, as she stands up, races towards the mage, and takes him down with a flying tackle. She struggles with him, trying to pin him down, as he babbles “The trees, the trees! They’re out there… moving…” Genoa remembers the mage’s odd twitch earlier in the day, after the plants attacked. She had dismissed it before, but now it comes rushing back.

She sits back on her haunches, still sitting on the mage, and calls to the party sleeping about the fire. “We might have trouble. Everyone up!”

Brynn rolls and in a flash is on his feet, weapons bared. “Wha?” comes his sleepy question. Genoa wordlessly points the direction of the mage-induced damage, where embers are dying from the wet and humidity. Brynn nods, and trots that direction, senses straining for anything out of place. Skylar, coming out of reverie quickly, follows a distance behind, bow drawn. As she passes over the roadway, the ground beneath her crumbles, and she disappears into the ground.

“No!” Genoa is startled by the shout, and sees Athena running across the road, to the point where the archer disappeared. The gnome goes to her knees, peering over the edge of the hole in the ground. She spots a tunnel leading towards the camp, and hears the sound of the archer cursing coming from it. “Hang on Skylar!” Athena calls. She debates dropping into the hole to follow, when a rumble is felt behind her. Another hole opens up, closer to the camp, and Skylar’s voice can be heard, strongly shouting invectives at her captor.

Brynn comes up beside her, and calls to the animals to join him. Karazak snarls, obviously displease with Brynn’s command, but leaps to the floor of the hole, and enters the tunnel. Brynn slides in, the moist earth at the bottom cushioning his fall, and follows Karazak. Timber circles the edge, whimpering, glancing back at Genoa, still in camp, and back into the hole. He is torn between joining the ranger and his cat (both of which Timber has a strong connection to) and rejoining Genoa (with whom he has a stronger connection). Athena leaves the dire wolf with that puzzle as she stands up and hurries to the new hole. At the edge, Athena can see Skylar, gripped in the leafy topnotch of… a giant turnip. With a maw filled with wooden teeth; several of which are chewing on Skylar.

“Now then, that’s enough of THAT,” she states, and leaps down on top of the creature, mace in hand. “Ungh, glad you could make it,” Skylar states matter-of-factly, pain creasing her brow. “Mind helpin’ me out here?” Skylar pulls back her bowstring; arrow loaded, she fires into the maw engulfing her foot and lower leg. The reaction is immediate, and more painful than the elf expected. The mouth bites down HARD. Trying hard to ignore the screams of her friend, Athena brings her mace down on the turnips top, making a pulpy mess of several of the “leaves”. The next swing misses as the creature twists in the hole, almost unseating her.

Emerging from the trees, with rope in hand, Tombit runs towards the hole housing the turnip and his friends. A length of line plays out behind him as he launches himself into the air, dropping in on the creature. The original plan of having Skylar haul herself out via the rope is dashed when the monk notices how little of the archer is still visible. To his consternation, she is rapidly being swallowed by the walking root vegetable.

“Mama Pithopper always said, ‘Tombit, eat yer vegetables’, but I don’t *ever* remember her finishing that sentence with, ‘or your vegetables may eat *you*’.” Anything further he might have said is cut short by a nimble leaf/tendril attacking him. As he squirms, further branches are lent to the fray, including the one keeping Skylar in the maw. She takes advantage of this lapse, and calling upon the powers of the Cloak of the Bat, rockets straight up in bat form. With her new senses, she “sees” Genoa altering shape into a dire wolverine and diving into the first hole. Wanting to put some distance between the turnip and herself, Skylar flies straight up into the sky, slowing only to make a quick meal of some of the ever-present flying insects. “Ew, yuch! Did I just do what I think I did? On second thought, I don’t want to think about it…”

From the edge of the hole, Daladariel casts Enervation on the creature, the sickly green-black ray emerging from his fingertip and striking the turnip at the base of its topknot. Unable to reach the mage to retaliate, it does the next best thing, and shoves Athena into its maw. The cleric shrieks as the teeth puncture her in several places, reducing her health drastically. She dimly senses another presence nearby as it fills her with healing energy, bringing her back from the brink. She doesn’t have time to ponder this new development as the turnip continues to swallow her.

Genoa, her wolverine form adept at digging, widens the tunnel the creature made, emerging underneath the turnip. There, she sinks her razor-sharp teeth into its pulpy flesh. Timber, whimpering the whole way, follows her, and also bites the unnatural vegetable. On the rim of the hole, Daladariel casts an empowered Magic Missile, the arcane bolt tearing great rents in the monster. Brynn, seeing an opportunity to act, dives into the hole, much like Tombit, but with both blades bared in front of him. The impact drives both swords up to the hilt into the creature. With a shudder, the turnip dies, its tendrils relaxing their grip on the monk and cleric.

As Brynn sets about pulling Athena from the corpse, with Genoa’s digging claws helping, the three of them sense that a heretofore unnoticed feeling of oppression has lifted. In unison, they sigh in relief. At the odd looks from the mage, monk, and warrior, Brynn, Genoa and a freed Athena just smile at each other. The smile turns into chuckles as Tombit, ever curious, checks the body for loot. At the Halfling’s exclamation, “This stinkin’ critter doesn’t have Anything!” they burst out laughing.

 

[Softwind]

Lots of death, followed by a small salad

Session 35 (Nov 03)

With much of the night still to pass, the Companions bed down again. Genoa casts Nature’s Rampart, enshrouding the party in an easily defensible barrier of moats and earthworks. Thus reassured, she settles into a patch of somewhat dry leaves, and slips into sleep.

Daladariel stays up, both to finish out his interrupted shift, and because he nervously anticipates the next ‘tree attack’. His incessant muttering of “the trees, the trees. They’re out there, the trees,” keeps Skylar from dropping into reverie, so she contents herself by taking watch with the distraught mage.

“Rather nervous fellow, isn’t he?” her battleaxe comments.

“Hush, Grim. Leave the poor man alone. He’s not used to the adventuring life, yet. Give him some time, I’m sure he’ll grow accustomed to the things we take for granted.”

“Yer assumin’ he lives long enough…”

“That’s enough, Grim! Now hush, and let me listen. We don’t want any more surprises.” To her surprise, the axe falls silent.

“Skylar?”

“Yes, Daladariel?”

“You see that movement over there?”

Skylar looks into the night, the direction the wizard points. “Rather dark. Hard to see anything. What did you see?”

Without answering, the wizard loads his crossbow with a bolt, and casts “Light” upon it. In the glow of the enchanted projectile, he sees Skylar’s eyebrow raise, as she indicates the crossbow.

“Erm, Gotien, my master, suggested there are times that magic will not be the answer. He taught me some basics with this weapon. It seems as good a time as any to use it. Now, let’s lighten up the area.” He fires the bolt into a tree some distance away, the golden glow it emits revealing a patch of ground and undergrowth.

“There *was* something there, I swear to you.”

“I believe you. In this place, anything is possible. Trees walking, vegetables eating you….” She rubs at the faint scars on her leg. “I’ll be glad when this is done, and we can get back to a normal forest.”

“I much prefer a library myself… Wait! There!” With a few quick syllables, he launches a sickly green bolt of energy, striking a darker shadow lingering near the light-enchanted bolt. At the shadows inhuman shriek, he shouts a warning to the sleeping party, and prepares to cast again.

Genoa, awoken by the first casting, and prepared to tackle the mage again if he launched another fire-based spell into the woods, damp or no damp, instead turns her attention to rousing her party upon hearing the mage’s cry of alarm. As she moves from person to person, Skylar fires several arrows into the darkness, hearing a satisfying Thunk as they hit her target. Brynn calls the animals to himself, and runs with them to engage the enemy, now revealed in the flickering light.

Before he can reach this latest threat, the air fills with an orange mist that sears at his throat and burns his eyes and nose. Brynn coughs, sucking in more of the tainted air, and narrowly avoids collapsing into a retching ball. His dwarven constitution fights to purge him of the toxin, as he pulls in more with each breath. The animals fare no better, rubbing at tearing eyes, crying piteously with discomfort. Loyal to their friends, however, they stay by Brynn’s side, and follow him as he makes his way to the source of the cloud.

“Plants, plants, it’s always PLANTS in this place…” The orange cloud briefly parts before him, and he sees the source of the nauseating gas. A floating squid shaped mobile compost heap is the first thing that comes to mind. Brynn isn’t sure if the stench emanating from its location is the smell of the forest-turned-swamp, the orange gas, or the creature itself.

“Either way,” he grunts, “Time to take out the trash.” With a yell, and a barely suppressed cough from the intake of the gas, he brings his long sword and short sword into play, slashing the creature several times. Taking their cue from him, both animals leap into the fray. Under the combined assault of all three, the creature is killed. Stepping back, as the orange mist dissipates; Brynn can see the arrow shafts and acid marks marring the surface of the creature. “A joint effort. Ah well, we still did our fair share, didn’t we lads?” He scratches Karazak behind his ears. And his world becomes painful again, as a green cloud overtakes his position.

Whereas before, the gas merely irritated sensitive parts, this cloud sizzles with menace as it starts dissolving soft materials. Exposed skin, leather, cloth – even his beard begins to fail against this attack. “Not. Me. BEARD!” he shouts. “Now ye’ve made me mad!” Using the pain of his dissolving skin to fuel his anger, he casts one of his few spells to form a wall of wind, giving him respite from the acid. The animals, blinded by the pain, stumble about, crying for surcease from the pain.

At the camp, Daladariel casts Invisibility upon himself, gibbering about walking plants. Tombit rushes to a nearby tree and scales it, hiding behind the wilted leaves. Genoa casts Gust of Wind, and directs it to clear a pathway to the creature in the distance; a creature with every appearance of being a giant Venus flytrap. While she clears some of the area, those around her are not so lucky, as the cloud continues to spread, engulfing the party members, subjecting them to the acid.

Athena stumbles away from the direction of the creature, and manages to leave the cloud as well. Daladariel is not so lucky in escape, and becomes badly injured by it, finding healing potions just in time. Eyes squeezed mostly shut, Tombit spends a few moments burying his prized treasures – the “boogieman” hair, his cat hat, and his bone dice - in a convenient spot of mud before making his way out of the acid cloud.

By following the cries of the animals, Skylar locates Brynn’s Wall of Air, and in so doing, is able to lead the animals to its relative safety as well. She spots Brynn just as he steps back into the noxious fumes, heading for their source. From outside the perimeter of the cloud, Genoa casts a Wall of Wind as well, stretching it towards the creature, providing a corridor of clean air. Through the mists, she sees Brynn stagger into the area, straighten up, and move quickly in the direction the Maneater was last seen. Upon his heels, Karazak follows, his once-proud coat mottled by acid burns.

“Wind’s messin’ up my direction sense. You know where it is, boy?”
The mountain lion puts his nose in the air, sniffing the wind, but is unable to reliably track the scent of the monstrous plant creature. He growls in frustration, and looks to Brynn for directions. The ranger strokes the cat’s head, in sympathy and understanding. “That’s alright, boy, you tried. We’ll just have tae do this by trial-n-error.” Further words are forestalled when Genoa steps into the corridor, followed by Timber. “This end’s getting’ kinda crowded, methinks.”

The druid nods agreement. “Best I figure, the creature is still that way*” She points. “My Wall will last a bit longer. Let’s use it to find that thing!”

“Cough, cough. I agree.” Daladariel staggers, almost tripping, into the cleared space, his clothing (or what’s left of it) hanging in rags about his body. The mage’s skin is ruddy red, and in some places bleeding sluggishly. Brynn has to move quick to get under him as he almost faints. “Hey there, lad, don’ be doing that noo. Genoa, can you? Ah, Athena. ATHENA. Quick, the mage needs your help!”

Athena, herself not looking too well, lays hands upon the wizard, and watches in satisfaction as his color improves, and his acid-induced abrasions heal. Daladariel regains his feet, with a quick “Thank you” to both cleric and ranger. The winds whip away the last of his robe, leaving him bare to the world. He makes no note of this as he scans the area, looking for a target to cast on. He doesn’t have to wait long before vines reach out from the cloud beyond, into the clear area, and wrap themselves around his waist, and around Brynn and Genoa.

 

[Softwind]

After dinner mint

Session 35 (Nov 03) [part two of three]

“All Right! Some action! C’mere, you!” Brynn shouts, brandishing his blades, whipping them down to sever the encroaching vines. His blades bite deep, but do not cut the limb in two. A thick sap coats his blade, making it difficult to recover from the wound. “Leggo! Ooo, that’s nae good.” Brynn stares at the trio of “heads” poking in from the Wall. Shaped like oversized flowerbuds, the interior lined with spikes and teeth, they rapidly approach the held adventurers.

“Hiiii YAH!” Tombit shouts as he leaps out of the gas and on top of the plant creature. His adamantine claws rake huge gashes on one of the heads, causing it to jerk back, almost unseating him. “Wheee! Ride em, cow cat! Mrow!” The Halfling monk cheers on Karazak and Timber as they savage the creature with tooth and claw, and pauses to admire the archer’s accurate shots placing three crackling arrows in tight formation on one of the heads. The resulting blast of electricity leaves not more than a stump where a head once sat.

“I’ll see your three, and raise you two more!” Daladariel chants and five Magic Missiles impact on a second head. While not as flashy, they get the job done, as the ruin of the second head slumps, mostly severed from the stalk. “Not bad, mage, not bad.”

Athena swings her mace and scimitar against the remaining head, and grimaces at the “squish” noise her mace makes upon impact. Plant sap spurts like blood, covering her in sticky fluid. “Ewww… ah, it burns! Don’t let it get on you!” She tries to wipe off the fluid before it eats its way further into her flesh and armor, while keeping her guard up against a counterstrike.

Genoa’s scimitar prevents the Maneater from reacting, as she lops off the last head. The plant creature shudders and slumps, its tendrils releasing the erstwhile captives. As the Wind Wall fades away into undirected zephyrs, the party realizes the acid gas too is dissipating. Waiting a moment for the last of the fumes to blow away, the Companions look each other over. Red, raw flesh greets their gaze. With Daladariel and Tombit, every inch is visible, their clothing not having survived the depredations of the acid. The rest fared little better, as undergarments and clothes shred at the lightest touch. Any non-magical bone, wood, leather, or lesser metal is either totally destroyed, or weakened so much as to be useless.

The land about them is not spared either. Sobs are pulled from the druid and rangers’ throats as they see the damage dealt to the plants, already suffering under hostile conditions. Every plant within sixty feet is bare of leaf and in some cases bark, dooming them all to a quick demise. A gray ash sludge mark all that is left of once living material.

Genoa immediately begins to repair what damage she can, as Tombit races to where he buried his treasures. With the cat hat firmly placed on his head once more, his nakedness is covered by the cat illusion it generates. He wraps the boogie man hair around his waist, and ties the dice therein.
Daladariel, having lost all but his magic staff, borrows a blanket from a party member to clothe himself. Athena busies herself, tending to wounds and acid burns, ignoring her own injuries until everyone else is healed.

Brynn stands, resting his hands upon the animals’ heads. He stares at the corpse of the creatures, one with every appearance of a squid composed of plant material, and the other, a giant Flytrap. “These cannot be natural. At least, not in any forest *I’m* aware of…” Brynn shakes his head. “I’m thinkin’ we really need to find that druid.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” Genoa walks up to Brynn, following his gaze. “I’ve been on edge since we got here. This place screams for Balance to be restored. No wonder Aranthea could feel this, even in Everlund. But,” she looks sideways at Brynn, “did you feel the change, when that vegetable thing died? The shift has started. These,” waving at the corpses before them, “are the last gasps. In time, this forest will thrive again.”

“I hope so, Genoa.”

“I *know* so, Brynn. C’mon. Tombit’s eager to show us the fruits of our labor, so to speak.”

“From what I can figure,” Tombit tells the gathered party, “Is that these things are migratory. At least, that’s all I can think of to explain these…” Before him, laid out for easy viewing, are several items, many of which show attempts to clean them up a bit. The Companion’s eyes widen as they see what has been collected; a silver hair comb inset with hematites, an amethyst-jeweled electrum ring, a pendant crafted of silver, fire opals and sapphire chips, a wand of magical power (black with a spiderweb-patterned cracks) a ceramic potion vial (determined to be lesser restore) and an ivory scroll case, with a blindness spell inscribed therein.

“Wow.” The rest of the party agrees with the sentiment. For a moment, they admire the collection, before Tombit scoops it all up and places it into the Bag of Holding at Genoa’s waist. “Right, then. Who’s up for some lunch? We can probably make it back to Sumpter in time for a meal.” Silence meets this pronouncement. “What?”

“Tombit,” Athena begins, then stops, pondering how to remind the Halfling, gently, that the town is starving. “Unless you have some food on your person, we’re going to probably be on lean rations for a few days. Also, we still haven’t found the Druid that more than likely caused all this.”

“Huh?”

Brynn shoulders forward, and gets into Tombit’s face. “No pies. Need to find druid”

*Gasp* “No pies? Nooooooo.” The party clamps their hands to their ears.

“TOMBIT!” The wailing stops. “First we find the druid. Then we get some food. Genoa probably has some o’ those berries,” he makes a face, “left over. Until we find something else, they’ll have to do. No offence, Genoa.”

“None taken. I know you’d rather toss back mead than a berry. Actually, after several days of them, I wouldn’t mind that either. But, until this area recovers, it’s not going to happen. Between the weeks of bad weather, and the villagers’ depredations, there is not much left. I’ve helped where I could, but it will take more than just one druid to repair this damage quickly.” She hastens to add, “But to hurry the recovery is also against the Balance. Time and the Green’s own power will return this area to the way it was.”

“I agree. Now, if I were a druid, where would I make camp in these woods?”

“Hmm. Since I *am* a druid... let me think. Now, the townsfolk said the hermit, Drylle, had accosted them when they went to fish, to collect firewood, and when they hunted the wild game that used to live here. Most of the time, they would meet him in the southwest parts of the forest surrounding the town. Right now, we’re west of the town, but not so much south. I’d say, follow the road a few miles, and then head into the woods that lie between the stream and the road. Easy access to all points of the forest from there.” She finishes, smugly.

“Ah. And was there a reason we *didn’t* think this through when we first started looking?”

“A-ummm. We were busy fighting for our lives?” she asks, sheepishly.

“Huh.” Brynn turns around, and starts following the road leading to the south, causing the rest of the party, amusedly watching the discussion, to hurriedly grab their gear and catch up. As the sun rises, their pace slows. Brynn, Genoa and Athena scan the surrounding brush, sensing something in the area. The party leaves the road, walking along a game trail, until they see a clearing in the trees ahead. In the small opening between the trees, they spot a lean-to, fashioned from deadwood, moss, and ivy, which blends so well into the surroundings that the non-druid/ranger types are completely oblivious. That is, until the three point it out to them.

Still within the cover of the trees, they discuss the best approach. While the small firepit looks unused in more than a week, it may be due to lack of need, especially in the heat. The lean-to’s opening faces them, and no one is seen inside, but the Companions are willing to take their time and play it safe. “If this hermit is the druid that has been causing the weather changes, and who attracted the plant creatures here, he is not to be considered a trivial opponent,” Daladariel comments.

“Assuming he *is* an opponent, and not just mixed up in this whole affair in some other fashion,” comments Genoa, but even she is not convinced of that. It troubles her that one who had dedicated his life to the preservation of the balance in the Green could do so much damage. She remembers Hall, in the Valley she called home, and shivers.

“I’ll just sneak over there, quiet as a mou.. er, cat.” Tombit volunteers.

“And I’ll be watchin’ yer back, me and Karazak.” Brynn replies.

The three creep forward, eyes fixed on the lean-to, while the remainder of the group retreats a few paces from the clearing. Far enough back to aid in remaining hidden, but not too far that they cannot leap to assist if needed. They watch, weapons readied, as the trio makes their way slowly across the clearing. When first encountered, it had been a small area between the trees, but now seemed like a large open meadow. They hold their breath as Brynn and Tombit near the lean-to.

Genoa suddenly shouts, “Wait. Don’t move.”

Brynn holds out both arms, to ward off Tombit and Karazak, as he looks over his shoulder at the druid. “There is *something* not right about where you were going to step. Something to do with the trees nearby… *gasp* It’s a trap.”