Hollow’s Last Hope Part 2.
The companions set about setting the fennec free. Kendall calmed the animal by cooing softly, and cradling its head in her lap. Meanwhile, Jorge pried open the jaws of the wicked trap, and Father Fortis channeled healing energy that revitalized the fox and the half orc fighter. The fennec leaped to its feet and bounded into the forest. “We should follow her lead,” said Father Fortis. “This has taken valuable time.”
After consulting Milom’s map, Kendall confidently led them towards the eldest tree in the forest.
The dense trees and thick brush of the forest gave way, parting seemingly in respect for the titanic darkwood tree that dominated the clearing. Several times taller than a temple minaret, in one direction the obviously ancient tree reached to the sky with branches like a giant’s arms, while in the other it plumbed the earth with roots thicker than a man’s waist. Its limbs broad and strong, its bark thick and so richly colored as to almost be black, and its leaves the size of small shields, the giant darkwood was less a tree and more a natural cathedral of boughs and branches.
Kendall and the others stood in awe of the massive tree. They did not know the ancient legends that this tree was said to have been carried as a sapling from the Hissing Jungle and planted here in the distant past. The druids that once guarded the forest claimed this darkwood to be the root from which all of Darkmoon grew.
Green eyes filled with cunning intelligence watched the party from the shadowy branches of the tree. The tatzlwyrm slowly slithered its way down a massive branch, using its powerful forelimbs for purchase. The group was spread out around the massive tree, looking intently at the ground and the trunk, and never noticing the deadly predator lurking above. A young human girl was bent over, totally exposed. The tatzlwyrm could grab her and yank her into the tree before the others could react if it timed its strike just right…
“Hey guys! I found it,” shouted Megan as she bent over the thick grey moss. She stood up in excitement, just as massive teeth snapped at where her head had been. “Aaaaaaah!” she screamed.
The twelve foot dragon-kin missed its target by inches, and fell to the ground with a massive crash. Megan jumped away and drew her blades, but the tatzlwyrm was faster, and it struck at the rogue like a viper, biting her squarely in the chest. Megan twisted her body as the beast tried to constrict her, and managed to spin away, blood running freely from her grievous wound.
Fortis was closest, and he roared his battle cry and charged the serpent, hoping to distract it from the girl. He also channeled healing energy to save Megan’s life. Kendall saw the massive thing drop from the tree at her friend, and quickly raised her bow. When Fortis charged, the creature rose up to meet the challenge, and it offered her a clear shot. The ranger’s arrow flew straight and true, and pierced the back of the tatzlwyrm’s head like a ripe melon, emerging cleanly from the front. The serpent went down instantly in a lifeless heap.
“What a shot!” exclaimed Jorge. The fighter never even had a chance to draw his blade, but he placed a hand on Kendall’s shoulder and said, “Really. Nice. Shot.”
Megan recovered from her shock, and also thanked Fortis and Kendall for their help. “That’s why we make a great team,” said Kendall. The party then gathered several bunches of the elderwood moss and placed it in their packs.
“One down,” said Gorb. “Still two ingredients to go.”
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The sounds of the forest became suddenly distant as the trees parted, and opened in to a small, almost perfectly circular glade. The nearest stands of pine, eyln, and darkwood – all typically sturdy woods – twisted away from the clearing as if bent by some impossibly strong wind or seemingly in an attempt to flee despite their paralyzed roots. At the glade’s center squatted an ugly cottage, little more than a pile of twigs, shoots, and ivy stacked upon mud walls. From the thatched roof dangled bundles of gnarled roots, old dried beast carcasses, and knucklebone bangles, all clattering together like gruesome wind chimes. A dozen small thatched fetishes – each shaped like a tiny man, imp, or rearing serpent – stood propped in the yard, and kept guard before a rickety plank door.
“Now that’s just creepy,” said Gorb. The others nodded their agreement.
“I don’t know,” mused Jorge, “The place does have a rustic sort of charm.”
“Whatever,” said Megan as she pushed her way past the big fighter. “Let’s talk to this witch and get the Rat’s Tail root. We’ve got a town to save.”
Before the others could stop her, she marched straight across the yard, past the strange fetishes, and banged on the door. Nothing happened. “Hey! Witch!” Megan yelled. Still nothing.
The others quickly caught up, and the group considered their options.
“Maybe she’s out,” said Gorb. “But we really don’t have time to wait for her.”
“Nope,” said Jorge matter-of-factly, and he simply ripped the door off its rotting hinges. Inside, the cottage was dank, reeking, and filled with shadows. Of course, the half-orc could see into the dark room just fine. Haphazardly hung shelves lined the walls, covered in all manner of clay jugs, clouded bottles, strangely cut rocks, rotted bunches of herbs, and a museum’s worth of other crude curios. A rusted iron cauldron with a mouth nearly five feet wide, dominated the hut’s single room. Across from the door, against the far wall, stood a high-backed chair made of wicker, the gigantic carved tusks of some monstrous beast, and thousands of human teeth. In the chair sat what looked like a corpse wrapped in filthy burial linens, sprouting patches of thick white mold. “Um, guys, this doesn’t look good,” Jorge called out to the others.
After cautiously checking out the corpse, they determined that it was just a bunch of rags stuffed with straw and herbs. Then they set about trying to find the Rat’s Tail in the massive collection of junk. As soon as Megan touched one of the jars, she heard a metallic grinding sound behind her. The rogue just managed to sidestep the great cauldron as it launched itself at the intruders. Jorge quickly smashed the giant iron pot with his sword, but his blade clanged off the rusty metal leaving barely a scratch. Fortis’ morning star was hardly more effective, but at least his blow left a satisfactory dent. The only thing that seemed to work were Gorb’s repeated acid splashes that left hissing, scorched pits in the metal. Eventually, the massive cauldron gave a last grinding shudder, and stopped moving.
Gorb surveyed the destruction wrought by the animated pot and shook his head. “If we thought it was going to be tough to find the Rat’s Tail in here before…” Then he had an idea. The sorcerer closed his eyes, tapped into his magic, and reached out with his mind, seeking any magical energies within the hut. When he opened them, he saw innumerable dim blue glows and one distinctly brighter aura. “Much magic has been performed in this tiny hut,” said Gorb. “Most of it is long past, but there,” he pointed to a lower shelf, obscured by a jar full of some jelly-like substance, “there is something still here.”
Megan bent down to search, and she pulled out an ancient pair of stockings riddled with moth holes. “These are magical – really?” she asked, holding up the rotting socks between her thumb and forefinger, a grimace of disgust on her face.
“No, no, not those – those,” he said, pointing to a pair of leather arm bands that had fallen out of the stockings when she picked them up. The sorcerer concentrated a second and then said, “Those bracers are magical, but they won’t work with regular armor. I could use a pair of those.”
Megan tossed them to Gorb and he tried them on. “I don’t feel any different, but they can’t hurt, right?”
“Whatev…Hey!” The rogue looked up on the shelf above her. There was a rack of small jars, and each was labeled in a neat, spidery script. The first was “pilot’s thumb”, a human digit suspended in thick, clear liquid. Megan shuddered and continued her search of the jars, reading them out one by one. “Fenny snake, eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat, tongue of dog, adder’s fork, blindworm’s sting, lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing. This is just nasty!” Among others, she spotted baboon’s blood, and then – “rat’s tail!” she exclaimed triumphantly.
