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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Softwind" data-source="post: 1386730" data-attributes="member: 13893">After dinner mintSession 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.”</blockquote>

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