The party rendezvoused in the Temple of Beauty after taking care of their respective bits of business in and around Waterdeep. Varien had spent the bulk of his time training recruits to the Order of the Ruby Rose while researching the locations of the Sinister Seven of Nessus. Siegfried’s Harper network reported their findings. The nightmares plaguing the sleeps of those along the Sword Coast were felt as far north as Rothé Valley beyond the Neverwinter River, encompassing Neverwinter and Helm’s Hold, where its effects were felt the strongest, extending into Neverwinter Wood. The nightmare effects faded out on the High Road before Leilon and Phandalin. “Would they be casting the Dread Ring from within Neverwinter Wood, or would the Dread Ring merely reach into Neverwinter Wood?” Varien asked. Siegfried sighed. “That I don’t know. This is not my area of expertise. But it was definitely Thayans who were involved in its creation.” There was another missing piece to the puzzle – two of Siegfried’s agents, sent to reconnoiter the effects of the Dread Ring nearest Neverwinter and Helm’s Hold, had not returned. Harper Windle had been sent to check out the Scar in Neverwinter, while Harper Aejiossin had been dispatched to a stretch of terrain south of Helm’s Hold. While the adventurers were poring over a map table and trading theories about the origin of the Dread Ring, Erwen noticed movement within one of the ostentatious floral arrangements sent to celebrate Varien and Bob’s ascension to the high priesthood in Waterdeep. He heard a rustling sound and went to investigate. Within the flower arrangement was a bud that seemed to grow and elongate in real time much faster than usual, and the bud itself was taking on vaguely humanoid facial features. “Yikes,” Erwen said. He looked around for help. He snapped his fingers and produced a flame in his hand just to be on the safe side. The drooping bud continued to form into a face, leaves becoming a beard, and a moustache made of mint leaves. Other leaves wrapped up like a hood around the face. Erwen squinted. “Reidoth?” He asked. The druid opened his eyes, which looked like shiny blackberries, and returned Erwen’s squint. He coughed, and his breath washed over Erwen in a minty wave that hinted of pipeweed. “Erwen, my boy, is that you?” Erwen quickly extinguished his flames. “What are you doing here?” “I bring a message, a message from the Wood!” Reidoth exclaimed. “Orcs! There are orcs in Neverwinter Wood!” Erwen whirled about. “Siegfried! I need you!” Siegfried turned from the map table and walked over to the flowerpot. Erwen turned back to Reidoth. “Is it bad, should we go?” “Hello, Reidoth,” Siegfried said, bending down to regard the tiny vegetable man. “How are you?” “The trees of the Wood are speaking!” Reidoth’s compost avatar replied. “The orcs are on the march!” “Cool, do you have a vector?” Siegfried asked. “No, my name’s Reidoth, not Victor!” Reidoth said. Siegfried sighed. “Do you have a direction? Which way are they going?” “Oh, yes, of course!” Reidoth replied. “The trees know, of course.” He coughed another cloud of minty pipeweed. “Sorry, a bit of a hotbox in my hut here, you know.” “What you need to do is find out which trees found out first, and which trees noticed them after that,” Siegfried said. “That way we’ll know their speed and direction.” “Well, you know how trees are,” Reidoth said. “Their branches blow in the wind…” “Do they know how many sunrises it’s been since they saw them?” Siegfried asked. “That way we know where they’ve been going.” “Of course, of course,” Reidoth replied. “Well, they’re heading from the west, heading east through Neverwinter Wood. Sorry, I’m getting conflicting information from the conifers and deciduous factions, as you can imagine. My network of plants across the forest, well…anyhow, they entered the woods near Conyberry and have been marching quite rapidly westward!” “What are their numbers?” Erwen asked. “How many orcs?” “Well, how many acorns fall uncounted in the forest?” Reidoth replied. “Have they forded Edal’s Creek?” Siegfried asked. “Indeed they have,” Reidoth replied gravely. “Have they reached Thundertree?” Siegfried asked. “Not yet,” Reidoth harrumphed. “All right then!” Siegfried clapped his hands. “Lads! Who wants to intercept some orcs?” “Let’s do it,” Erwen growled. “Sounds like fun,” Bob said. “What are you talking about?” Varien exclaimed. “Rulgar and his band of orcs have entered Neverwinter Wood, but I have an ace up my sleeve that will allow us to teleport to his location.” Siegfried drew a card from his hand, and prestidigitated a sketch of his brother Rulgar on it, then theatrically tore it in half as he cast scrying . Siegfried’s vision shifted and suddenly he was viewing the interior of a large yurt, buttressed by large bones lashed together supporting a dome of stretched overlapping hides. Siegfried’s shadow blended into the shadows being cast by flickering fires leaping from cauldrons and braziers made from captured shields. A huge battle standard dominated the room, and Rulgar stood before it, clad in battle armour, holding a war council. Stretched out on a slab of stone was a map made of flayed skin, landmarks and geographic elements tattooed onto it. Next to Rulgar was Aunty Jurrg the cave witch, and at his left hand stood a statuesque Orc warrior woman who Siegfried recognized as Yazga, Mother of Sons, famous warrior and doubtlessly the warlord’s consort. Varien received a sending spell from Captain Ezykes of the Dragon Revengers. The message was chaotic as though the Captain’s attention was divided. Thayans…Ashmadai…Orcs…we have engaged! Orders? Varien thought for a moment, then replied: By my word, return home alive , and be sure that they do not. I will be there soon. In Varien’s head he heard the clash of steel on steel and the shouts of valiant men and women holding the line. The whipping screams of arrows split the air. Reidoth’s blossom had grown a pair of leafy limbs and a small corncob pipe that he puffed on thoughtfully. “Not bad, not bad at all,” he said of the pipeweed he’d filched from elsewhere in the flowerpot. “Reidoth,” Erwen asked. “Have the orcs harmed the forest?” Reidoth’s floral expression grew grave. “Let me put it this way. There is unrest in the forest, and trouble with the trees. The orcs rampage with no regard for the forest’s law, but cut a path with hatchet, axe and saw.” “That’s all I need to know,” Erwen growled. “The trees are talking about organizing,” Reidoth said. “Did you say orc-anizing?” Erwen said. Reidoth chuckled darkly. “The trees are arguing with one another as to how best to handle this incursion.” “At least the handle of the axe is one of us!” Siegfried said. “Indeed!” Reidoth replied. Siegfried’s shadowy sensor was picking up the sound of battle outside of the yurt as Rulgar led his war council. There was at least one Hand of Gruumsh standing at the ready inside the yurt. There were also two leaders of clans allied with Rulgar’s horde – Hyrkzag Dragonskull of the the Severed Eye and Kursk One-Tusk of the Sixblade Orcs. Rulgar was consulting the map. “Now, I had it on good authority that the Ashmadai would be found in these Woods, but they have either fled ahead of our advance, or had moved on before we arrived. But in the meantime we’ll beat back these Red Wizards and their allies.” There were grunts of assent from the members of the war council. Bob left a note for Nero as the party prepared to teleport. Siegfried cast a sending spell. Hey Rulgar, you’re talking a lot of shit for someone at such close range. What the? His brother had time to reply before there was an eruption of shadow and the adventurers teleported into the war council’s yurt. Bob was facing the wrong way. “What up, bitches!” Siegfried shouted, brandishing the Ettin Axe of Uruth. There was confusion and discord in the tent. Guards brought up their blades to defend their leaders and Aunty Jurrg hissed like a cornered alleycat. Rulgar flinched and let out a surprised yelp but recovered instantly. “Brother! What an unexpected pleasure!” “I understand that your boys are roughing up some of my boys in a crossfire with the Thayans,” Siegfried said. “Oh yes,” Rulgar said. “Collateral damage in the fog of war, perhaps?” “You should probably send someone out to check on that before one of these Sunite Zealots takes personal offence,” Siegfried said. “Well, how conscientious of you, brother!” Rulgar replied. “Yazga, always a pleasure to see you,” Siegfried said. Yazga, two knives in hand, replied with something between a purr and a growl. Rulgar waved a hand at an underling. “Well Siegfried, a skirmish didn’t bring you all the way out here into the woods. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Rulgar glanced down at the axe. “Here to fulfil your part of our bargain?” “No, because the agreement was that I would transfer the axe to the leader when he arrived in Waterdeep,” Siegfried replied. “At an official ceremony. But the current issue is that the druids are complaining that you and your boys are making a bit too much noise in the forest in your travels.” “Well, an army marches as it does,” Rulgar said. “And must make use of the environment through which it moves.” Siegfried patted his brother on the shoulder, using sleight of hand to steal a loose hair from Rulgar’s head. “How have you and your lads been sleeping on the trail?” Siegfried asked. “Why do you ask?” Rulgar replied. Siegfried placed his forefinger on the skin map. “Because around here you should be experiencing nightmares as your troops crossed the threshold of the Thayan Dread Circle, and that’s what I’m really interested in. So, you’ve found some Thayans, so I think I’m going to take some.” Rulgar chuckled. “Be our guest, naturally.” Siegfried patted his brother on the cheek condescendingly. “So generous, brother.” He swaggered around with the blazing and freezing Ettin Axe in full view of Rulgar’s war council. “By the way, what are you chiefs doing in here while the fighting is going on?” Siegfried asked over his shoulder as he made to leave the yurt. “Seems less than courageous of you.” Rulgar chuckled again. “Our blades and spears have been well washed with blood this day, and the day before, and the day before that. We are, as you would say, comparing notes on the progress of this campaign. May I remind you of course that our agreement was to turn my horde’s attention away from Waterdeep and focus it on your Ashmadai enemies.” “Very good,” Siegfried replied. “I suppose I should follow up on that, shouldn’t I?” “There are indeed two sides to that agreement, Siegfried.” Rulgar said. “Of course, and as I said, Waterdeep wants to have you there for an official ceremony,” Siegfried replied. “At which time I will hand the axe over to you. I cannot violate that agreement. That’s part of how I got it.” “Well, of course,” Rulgar said. “But I wasn’t talking about Waterdeep.” “Ah, yes,” Siegfried said. “Mom. Right. Honestly, mother’s been a bit quiet lately, I might have scared her off.” Siegfried turned. “Erwen, how goes plane shift ?” Erwen said, “Yeah, uh-“ and then sneezed, casting conjure animals to create an army of growling wolves within the yurt that surrounded the orcs. “Halflings,” Siegfried chuckled. “Always sneezing up wolves.” Rulgar arched an eyebrow. “If you say so. I’m beginning to wonder if your call was not a friendly one.” Erwen’s wolves howled in unison. “Well, the trees were complaining to the druids, the paladins were complaining to the High Priests of Sune. If we can sort out all that, we should be good.” “Excellent,” Rulgar said. “So, you’ve got Thayans and Ashmadai outside for us?” Siegfried said. “Yes, it’s time to Ashma-DIE!” Erwen growled. “Erwen, steady now,” Siegfried admonished. He handed a stick of sugary candy the size of a crowbar. “I want you to eat this as slowly as you can.” Erwen took it, super-excited and began gnawing on it contentedly. Bits of the rock candy began to dissolve into sticky taffy.