Once Radegast had calmed down, she
began to weave a story about the party’s adventures within the ziggurat for
Kraklos and Ulreth’s benefit, using prestidigitation
and minor illusion to create a
vivid, if somewhat circumspect, report about the creatures and traps discovered
within. The bard pointedly kept any mention of the loot they had recovered out
of her summary, and did not reveal her newfound proficiency in reading and
speaking Ancient Netherese, suggesting instead that the loremasters of Everdusk
Hall were likely resources when it came time to interpret the treasure trove of
historical information in the ziggurat’s library.
“And then Mormesk said to Xylon, ‘this
is my body now!’” Radegast was warming up to her favourite part of the tale
within a tale.
At this, Xylon snorted and signaled to
Garmen Ulreth. “May I speak with you a moment, Brightcandle Ulreth?”
Ulreth smiled knowingly. “Now, Watcher
Northmere, it sounds like your companion is just getting to the good part!” He
got up from his seat at the campfire and dusted off his leathers. “Lead on.”
Xylon and Ulreth walked along the
ziggurat’s foundation, past the Harpers’ tents.
“So,” Xylon began once they were out of
earshot. “My friends and I have defeated a great evil within Old Owl Well and
we do not seek a reward for our efforts.”
“Is that so?” Ulreth smirked. “How
noble of you, if you’ll excuse the expression.”
Xylon pulled out the Malediction of Mormesk from his satchel.
“We came across this book, as you’ve heard Radegast mention, and discovered
that when it is read, it magically traps the reader. Whoever is trapped by the
book runs the risk of being consumed by its author, Mormesk the Wraith.”
He handed the tome over to Ulreth, who
accepted it gingerly, making sure to keep the book closed.
“Don’t open the book,” Xylon warned.
“Seal it away, or destroy it, but don’t read it.”
Ulreth examined the book’s cover. “And
you said you found this book inside the ziggurat?”
Xylon exhaled, not wishing to give away
information about Wave Echo Cave. “I didn’t say that. We did encounter it
during our travels to Old Owl Well.”
Ulreth raised an eyebrow, but didn’t
press the issue.
“Now, in exchange for that book, I need
some information,” Xylon said.
“Go on,” Ulreth said.
“What have you heard about a town north
of here called Thundertree?”
“Thundertree?” Ulreth repeated. “Near
Neverwinter or thereabouts, yes?”
Xylon nodded.
“Last I heard it was in the path of
Mount Hotenow’s eruption some years back,” Ulreth said. “The place was overrun
by ash, poison, and strange magic. Now it’s full of zombies from head to toe.”
“That confirms my suspicions,” Xylon
said. “My party has reason to visit there in the near future.”
“Well then, by all means scout out the
area and give us the lay of the land next time you meet with a Harper cell.”
“Thank you, Brightcandle,” Xylon said.
“I will definitely send a raven with my report.”
“Indeed,” Ulreth said. “Now, on to
other matters. You have done the Harpers a great service here, by all accounts.
I know you and the High Harpers have had their differences, but if it were in
my power…” Ulreth was lost in thought for a moment, and then nodded to himself.
“Actually, it is in my power. I hereby grant you a brevet promotion to the rank
of Harpshadow.”
“Thank you, Brightcandle!” Xylon
repeated.
Ulreth waved a hand. “Easy now, this is
just provisional until I clear it with the High Harpers, but you’ve earned it.”
He pulled a shiny new Harper pin from a pocket and pinned it to Xylon’s breast.
Xylon fingered the new insignia. “There
is one more thing, Brightcandle. Has there been any news from the Kingdom of
Aval’ynn?”
Ulreth smiled. “Has this promotion
loosened your tongue about your family’s dealings?”
“Not at all,” Xylon said. “I have
nothing to say, because my family is innocent.”
“Of course,” Ulreth snorted. “But to
your point, no, I have not heard anything from our agents about recent dealings
in Aval’ynn.”
“Thank you,” Xylon said.
“Actually, I have one more thing to
ask.” Ulreth nodded in the direction of Radegast’s monologue. “So, what really
happened down there?”
Xylon cleared his throat. “Uh, well,
there were worms, there was corruption, there were creatures animated by
corrupted worms, and there was a monster that made psychic attacks.”
“And what do you think the Red Wizard
was after?”
“Well, perhaps the Red Wizard sought
the source of the corruption, or some forgotten magic of Ancient Netheril to
use in a wicked manner. We found empty rooms with tapestries depicting
Netherese arcanists spying on ancient forest elves.”
Ulreth nodded. “Thank you for your
analysis, Harpshadow Northmere. Now, I want to hear more of the bard’s tales
about you getting humiliated by a paper wraith.”
The two made their way back to the
camp, where Captain Kraklos was beginning to lob questions at Radegast.
“What did you find down there?” he
asked the bard.
“We found what appeared to be a yuan-ti
treasure room,” Radegast said. “Unfortunately it had already been looted.”
Kraklos frowned.
“Not to say that we emerged
empty-handed,” Radegast said carefully. She indicated a pile of junked
construct parts she had emptied out onto the grass. “We engaged with ancient
Netherese guardians, which might be of interest to armorers and tinkerers
alike.” She also produced the Chamber of
Hosts . “And there is an entire library of Netherese lore to be studied,
including this book that details the workings of the purification system of Old
Owl Well, the malfunction of which led to our encounters with the worm
monsters.”
Kraklos nodded slowly.
“And we emerged with a warning,”
Radegast pointed at the well. “The Gauntlet should consider destroying this
well, to prevent the spread of corruption and the return of the Deathless Worm.
Old Owl Well required regular human sacrifice to remain operating smoothly, and
unless secrets are revealed within the Library, the knowledge of how to create
the purification worms has been lost to time. It would be better not to drink
from the well at all, under the circumstances.”
At this, several of the Gauntlet and
Harpers exchanged uneasy glances.
“The waters of this well are but a
distilled evil,” Radegast put her rhetorical skills to good use. “Believe me,
for I have tasted it at the source. Too much of it.” She nodded to Varien, who
sat brooding. “Just ask Angry Grumps over there.”
Kraklos frowned. “And do any of your
companions have anything to add?”
Varien straightened up. “I’d like to
add some of that plate armor to my collection,” he said.
Kraklos sneered. “Prove yourself and
you may be able to afford such armor.”
“Is that a challenge?” Varien hissed
under his breath.
By this time Ulreth and Xylon had
returned to the group. Ulreth circled around until he was standing next to
Kraklos, and then bent to whisper a few words in the paladin’s ear.
Kraklos’ armor clanked as he got to his
feet. He nodded at Radegast. “Chevall, a word in private.”
He turned without looking to see if
Radegast had fallen in behind him and marched off to his campaign tent.
Radegast followed Kraklos until they
reached his campaign tent. The paladin pulled back the flap and ushered
Radegast inside.
Inside the tent was a map table, atop
which was a map, its corners secured by small knives to the tabletop. Atop the
map, which Radegast struggled to make sense of in the split-second she let her
eyes play over it, was a sheaf of parchment, a guttering candle in a silver
holder, and some sealing wax.
Captain Kraklos sat in a folding chair
on the opposite side of the table, picked up a quill pen, and began to write on
the parchment.
The feather pen flicked in the
direction of a pair of spindly folding chairs before Radegast.
"Take a seat Chevall."
Kraklos spoke without looking up.
Radegast obeyed. The chair creaked in
protest as she sat.
The pen scratched loudly in the silence.
"Garmen tells me your party is
heading towards Thundertree and parts north."
"That's correct, Whitehawk."
Radegast replied.
"What do you know about a place
called Helm's Hold?"
"Helm's Hold," Radegast
repeated. "Well, I can tell you it was founded as a farmstead and
spiritual retreat by a member of the Company of Crazed Venturers, a devout
follower of Helm, in the year 1138, As more and more followers of Helm arrived,
the settlement grew until it was a fortified abbey, about 20 years later. Then
of course there were the troubles surrounding Helm, which led-¨
"Thank you for the history lesson,
Chevall, but I was more interested in current events."
"Well, I believe a member of my
party, Alec, was based in Helm's Hold recently, and he could probably-"
"Quite." Kraklos looked up
from his writing. "Helm's Hold has seen more recent troubles, especially
since the Spellplague. During that time, Helm’s Hold became a refuge and
convalescent home for the spell-scarred, and during the chaos a demonic cult
called the Ashmadai managed to wrest control away from the defenders of Helm’s
Hold, led by a witch they called the Prophet. It was only after Helm’s
resurgence, and a terrible battle, that the demon-worshippers were expunged and
driven into the depths of Neverwinter Wood. Things haven’t exactly returned to
normal yet behind their walls.”
Radegast nodded.
Kraklos continued. “But their troubles
are not over. A splinter faction of our Order, calling itself The Order of the
Gilded Eye, has taken root at Helm’s Hold. The Gilded Eye believes that demons
and their vile worshippers are spreading corruption throughout the North. The
Gilded Eye’s inquisitors have taken their worship of Helm to extremes and are
determined to destroy anyone they believe is under the demons’ sway, as well as
anyone who challenges the edicts of their leaders, or their beliefs.”
“Oh?” Radegast said, suddenly very
alert.
“The Gauntlet is not taking this heresy
lightly,” Kraklos said. “Even now our agents are keeping watch and gathering
intelligence about this unstable faction.”
“I see,” Radegast said, her hand at her
side clenching involuntarily. “Have any of our agents been seduced by the
Gilded Eye’s ideology?”
“No, our men are solid in their
beliefs. That is where you come in,” Krakos said, folding the letter and
melting some wax onto it. “Now I will set you in motion. You will stop in at
Helm’s Hold on your way to your destination and make contact with one of our
agents there, a Whitehawk. Take this report and deliver it, using the full extent
of your discretion to do so.”
He pressed his signet ring into the
wax, sealing the letter.
"I do worry about sympathizers to
the cause within our own organization," Radegast said. "This heresy
must be dealt with."
"Indeed," Kraklos said.
"Should our group go that way, I
will not hesitate to do so."
"Your task is to ensure that your
group does go that way." Kraklos said.
"But how will I know who to
contact?" Radegast asked.
“Don’t worry, he will approach you,”
Kraklos said. “Apparently he’s been briefed on your flair for the dramatic.”
"Well then, I will make every
effort to be of service to the Gauntlet," Radegast said.
"See that you do, Marcheon De'ath." Kraklos held out
the missive.
Radegast accepted the letter and bowed
her head respectfully. "Thank you for the promotion, sir!"
“I look forward to hearing your
rendition of ‘A Song of
Other Times and Places’ when next we meet,” Kraklos
said as he waved her out of the tent.
The party chose to rest for several
hours before heading out. The Gauntlet and Harpers did not bother them, instead
using some of the Red Wizard's discarded shovels to dig further into the tunnel
the party had uncovered.
Varien sat brooding by the campfire. He
watched the flames crackle and dance, and then turned to Radegast and Xylon.
"What do the two of you know about
something called Arcetalos, a crystal prison, the Obsidian Circle, and the
Crown of Illefarn?" He explained to them about his vision.
"That's a lot of take in,"
Radegast said. "As for Illefarn, it was one of the three kingdoms that
joined together to form Phalorm, a fallen kingdom to the southeast."
Xylon snorted. "Is that what they
taught you at that whore’s academy in Silverymoon?" He laughed.
"Illefarn was one of the great Elven realms, founded more than 20,000
years ago, that stretched at its height from the Spine of the World all the way
to the River Delimbiyr. The Illefarn Radegast is talking about is one of its
impoverished successor states, made up of the elves of Ardeep Forest and
dwarves. Can you imagine? It was part of the Realm of Three Crowns, that's
where Radegast is getting her references wrong."
"What are you talking about?"
Radegast said. "Realm of Three Crowns? 'Crown of Illefarn'? It totally
fits!"
Xylon chuckled, and then a wave of understanding
hit him. "Wait, you mean you don't know?"
Radegast stared.
"You mean I know something that
the Librarian doesn't for a change?" Radegast laughed. "What a
pleasurable sensation!" He warmed to the subject. "What our learned
companion here has evidently forgotten is that the capital of ancient Illefarn
was a city called Aelinthaldaar, and it was known far and wide as the Crown of
Illefarn."
"Well...maybe, but..."
Radegast said.
"And not too many people know
this, even scholars who have spent years studying Illefarn, but Aelinthaldaar
was the foundation upon which the great city of Waterdeep was built."
"Waterdeep?" Varien
exclaimed. "A clue!"
"Yes, there's your Crown of
Illefarn right there,” Xylon smiled. “Now, if you'll excuse me..." The wizard
stood up and went to his tent.
Xylon’s tent was of a decent size and
well-kept, befitting his station. He had a small folding table that now held
the crystal ball. He sat before it.
He peered into the crystal ball. It was
as though he was looking through a glass, darkly. He could make out the outline
of what he thought were great tree trunks, around which were built dwellings of
Elvencraft, but he could not bring the image into focus, no matter how hard he
concentrated.
He tried a different approach. He
looked into the crystal ball and thought about his home in Aval’ynn.
Nothing happened. The distorted image
did not shift.
Xylon frowned and began an identify ritual. He surmised that this
scrying stone was one of three, that when used together, would clearly show the
location of the area that now appeared as a blurry mirage.
“A scrying stone that is scry-locked on
an Elven city in the forest,” Xylon said to himself. “And this is what the
Banshee is so interested in recovering?”
He set aside the crystal ball and
examined the Netherese robes. They were definitely magical – he determined that
the robes would confer a measure of magical resistance to the wearer. And they
weren’t half bad-looking, either.
Xylon shrugged out of his vestments and
tried on the robes. They fit well – a little snug.
As soon as he donned the robes, the identify spell ceased.
Xylon shrugged.
Xylon opened his scroll pouch and
fished out one of the magical scrolls he had recovered from beneath the
ziggurat. He opened it up and frowned.
The scroll was covered in lines of
writing as it had been the last time he looked, but now the letters made no
sense. They appeared as a jumble of sigils and signs, but Xylon could no longer
interpret them.
“That’s strange,” he said to himself.
He attempted to cast identify on the scroll.
The spell failed. The verbal components
caught in Xylon’s throat as he tried to vocalize them, and his somatic hand
movements were as the fluttering of a debutante’s fan.
Realization began to dawn.
“Oh, no!” Xylon shouted and tried to
pull the robe from his body.
It was stuck fast.
“Magical resistance my ass!” Xylon
said. “I can’t believe I just put on an anti-magic straitjacket!” He cursed his
luck.
He chewed on his lower lip in
consternation. Surely one of his companions could help him. His heart sank as
he realized he had just finished insulting the most likely target.
“Pssst, Radegast…” he hissed outside
the bard’s tent.
“Go away, Xylon,” Radegast said. “Your
charms have no power here.”
“You’re more right than you know,”
Xylon whispered. “I need your help, Radegast.”
“Oh, so now you come to a Librarian for
assistance, after ridiculing a lapse in her memory?” Radegast opened the flaps
on her tent. She saw Xylon’s expression, and his new set of robes.”
“Ah,” Radegast said. “So you’ve been
kicked.”
“What are you talking about?” Xylon
asked angrily, brushing past Radegast.
“I told you the embroidery on the robe
said ‘kick me’, did I not?” Radegast said as Xylon paced about.
“Wait, are you saying you knew
something bad would happen to me when I put these robes on?” Xylon glared.
“Not necessarily, but I’m saying you
were a dumbass for trying it on.” Radegast snorted. “You’re totally my bitch.”
“How do I get these robes off?” Xylon
wailed.
“Uh, you pull them off, dummy.”
Radegast said.
“Don’t you think I tried that already?”
Xylon said. “So what did these robes actually say?”
“I think I told you that already,”
Radegast said. “Netheril Has Enough Magic.”
“Netheril has…” Xylon groaned. “That
doesn’t mean anything!”
“So why come to me for help?” Radegast
said. “What have these robes done to you?”
“I can’t use my magic anymore!” Xylon
shrieked.
“Keep it down, Xylon!” Varien shouted
from two tents over.
“Xylon you’re crying like a 5-year old
who just broke his favourite toy,” Radegast said.
“Just fix it!” Xylon pleaded.
“Not exactly my specialty,” Radegast
said. “Curses are more in a wizard’s wheelhouse – now stop blubbering at the
irony!”
She pulled out a dagger and cut at the
seams of the robe.
“It’s well-made,” she said, noting the
distinct lack of damage to the robes.
“Try something else!” hissed Xylon.
Radegast lit a torch.
Xylon backed away. “I think this is a
bad idea.”
“Nonsense, it’s science…well, alchemy,
I guess.” Radegast held the torch to the robes. They refused to catch fire.
“Ouch!” Xylon said as the fire burned
his skin beneath the robe.
“Hmmmm,” Radegast said. “It’s almost as
if they planned for these sorts of countermeasures. It’s not co-operating with
us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Xylon
snapped.
“Well, without doing more research, my
hypothesis is that a remove curse
spell would probably do the trick.”
“Great,” Xylon said. “You think one of
the Harpers or Gauntlet agents is a wizard or cleric?” He struck out for their
side of the encampment.
“Hold it, dummy.” Radegast grabbed him.
“I don’t know about you, but I like the idea of keeping my new promotion. If we
go to them with a Netherese robe, they’ll know we held back the best bits from
under the ziggurat and they’ll bust us right back down to the bottom rung of
the ladder.”
Xylon sighed. “You’re right.”
“For now, put your old robes on over
these robes.” Radegast said, smiling. “It’s like you’ve picked up the magical
equivalent of syphilis.”
“Oh, and you’re well acquainted with
syphilis, aren’t you?” Xylon snarled. “Why can’t you take things seriously?”
Radegast glared back at the wizard. “I
am taking this very seriously, Xylon! I have no wish to die out there in the
wild because you can no longer cast a fireball
to save our hides. We will figure this out. Now, go back to your tent before
you alert the Harpers to your, ah, personal issues.”
Xylon returned to his tent and cried
himself to sleep.
Morning broke over the encampment.
As the party made provisions for their
overland journey, a cheery Radegast and a sullen Xylon informed them of what
had transpired the night before.
“You what?” Varien said, incredulous.
“Hey!” Xylon frowned. “If it had been a
suit of magical plate armor, you would have worn it too.”
Varien shrugged.
Radegast offered to trade Xylon’s staff of defence for something mundane.
“No, thanks, this this is as strong as
oak,” Xylon said, tapping his staff on the ground.
The adventurers broke camp and headed
towards Neverwinter Wood.
Erwen took the lead as the party
ventured down the foothills to the northwest of Old Owl Well and crossed the
Triboar Trail. Neverwinter Wood stretched before them, deep and dark.
They crossed the threshold of the
forest and began making their way to the northwest.
The
daylight was replaced by dimness as the branches of the trees formed a canopy
overhead that only let the occasional dim ray of sunlight in. Dust motes and
pollen hung suspended in the wan shafts of light.
There was
no trail, only a carpet of matted leaves beneath their feet under which was
hidden rocks and roots that threatened to turn the ankles of the unwary.
The
temperature seemed to drop steadily. Xylon shivered at the memory of his last
trip into Neverwinter Wood. Radegast used prestidigitation
to warm up a smooth rock, which she handed to the wizard.
Erwen
picked his way through easily as he let his internal compass guide him. The
druid was struck by the strange silence around him – the normal woodland sounds
he expected to hear – animals, birds, insects – were all but completely absent.
The oppressive weight of the trees that loomed overhead seemed to blot out
sound as well as light. He felt as though all the animals had abandoned these
woods.
Varien
followed after the druid, with the Trevelyan brothers, Xylon and Radegast
bringing up the rear. They marched in tense silence as a sense of foreboding
seemed to press at them from all sides.
“Maybe we
should have taken the long way around,” Xylon hissed.
Suddenly,
Varien came to a halt. Erwen kept
walking on for a few steps before realizing that nobody was falling him.
“What’s
up?” Bob asked.
“Don’t you
hear that?” Varien cocked an ear. “It sounds like a woman singing.”
“I hear it
too,” Radegast said.
“As do I,”
Xylon said.
Alec, Bob,
and Erwen looked at one another and shrugged. They hadn’t heard anything.
“She’s
singing in Elven,” Radegast said. “ A Song
to the Forest , I think.”
“We must
meet this golden-voiced elf, then!” Varien immediately struck off to the north.
“Wait!”
Bob said. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Xylon and
Radegast followed Varien into the thickets.
As Varien,
Radegast, and Xylon approached, the woman’s voice became louder and clearer,
echoing through the woods. It was indeed an Elven ballad of such aching sadness
that they found themselves blinking away tears involuntarily.
Radegast
began playing a complementary melody on her lute.
They came
upon a burbling brook that snaked through the trees. Standing several feet from
the shoreline in the water was a beautiful woman, washing herself. Her golden
hair shone in the sunlight that peeked through the break in the trees above
that followed the outline of the stream.
Xylon licked his lips as the woman filled an earthen vessel with water from the
stream, and then raised it over her body, pouring it out over her face,
shoulders, and breasts.
He stepped
out from the treeline and coughed politely. Varien and Radegast followed.
The woman
turned to face them, her long, wet hair clinging to her body and covering her upper
works while leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Who
calls?” she said softly.
Xylon took
another few steps forward. “My apologies for disturbing you, milady, but we are
traveling through these woods and would appreciate it if you could tell us the
quickest way through.
The elven
woman smiled shyly but made no effort to cover herself. “I would be glad to
help, but first, may I tell you a story?”
“Well, ah,
we always have time to hear tales told by lovely young ladies,” Xylon heard
himself say.
The woman
stepped forward, her hips swinging just enough to distract the wizard. “Have
you heard the tale of the young Elven lovers?”
“Ah, no…”
Xylon said. “Please continue.”
“An Elven
prince asked his beloved for her hand in marriage, and she agreed, becoming the
most beautiful princess in the realm,” the woman said breathily. “Then, the
young prince was called away, but promised his betrothed that he would return
with a fabulous gift to seal their union.”
“Go on,”
Xylon said.
“And so
she waited,” the woman said. “And waited for him to keep his promise, for days
that turned to weeks, weeks that turned to months, and months that turned to
years, all the while trying not to believe that she had somehow driven her love
away.”
Radegast
blinked. The woman’s tone had sharpened. The bard stepped towards a nearby
tree.
“Until one
day she looked at her reflection in the waters and found that she had become an
old woman, her best years wasted waiting at her windowsill, waiting for her
feckless love to pay her the slightest heed.” The woman’s expression began to
darken. “Waiting…for her promised treasure.”
Xylon’s
eyes widened.
The
woman’s voice had turned cold and ragged. “I’m still waiting for you, Xylon!”
In a flash
the naked woman transformed into the horridly alluring figure of Agatha the
Banshee. The waters of the creek around her crackled and froze over as she
reached out her clawed hand towards the wizard.
Xylon
tried to backpedal but found himself frozen in place.
Then,
Agatha disappeared, leaving behind the echo of her scornful laugh that rang in
the treetops.
Bob, Alec,
and Erwen rushed up.
“Wow,
first a doppelganger and now a Banshee?” Bob shouted. “Is there a creature you
haven’t boned, Xylon?”
Xylon
whirled to spit an angry retort at Bob but froze.
The tree
behind Radegast wasn’t a tree at all. Its branches began to flex and move.
Xylon
pointed and shouted a warning.
The
creature before them was nearly as tall as the trees it had hidden between. Its
cervine visage was crowned with a spread of branchlike antlers, and its body
was a humanoid configuration of twisted roots. A ribcage-like cavity in its
chest buzzed with what looked like a large wasp’s nest, and as the creature
moved it disgorged a cloud of angry wasps that encircled it like a tornado.
“YOU HAVE DEFILED THIS FOREST!” It barked in Sylvan. It lashed out at
Varien, who stood flatfooted, with two slam attacks from its heavy limbs.
The
paladin threw up his shield and the creature’s arm bashed against it with a
heavy thud. Vines and green shoots shot out and twisted against the shield,
threatening to yank it from Varien’s grasp. Then the creature’s other arm
struck Varien.
The wind
was knocked out of his lungs at the force of the blow. Varien could feel
knobbly protrusions from the creature’s fist stab painfully into him, but worse
yet was the forced injection of a hot saplike poison that raced into his
bloodstream like molten steel.
Radegast
shouted in Sylvan, “We have no quarrel with you!” and then cast thunderwave , disrupting the two swarms
of wasps and knocking the tree creature back a few steps.
Alec cast firebolt but missed.
Bob cast a
firebolt that struck the creature’s
head, setting its antlers alight. The creature screamed, batting itself with
his leafy hands, which also caught fire.
Radegast
moved to protect Xylon, who was fumbling with a light crossbow. The creature
lunged at her but missed.
Varien
could take a hint. The paladin cast burning
hands , setting fire to the creature and to the swarms of wasps that
struggled to reform over them.
Erwen
recognized the creature as a young Spriggan, a forest-dwelling creature known
for its hatred of intruders. The druid wildshaped into a giant spider and shot
webbing at the wasps.
Xylon let
a shot go with his crossbow.
Radegast
lunged forward and snuffed out the flames within the creature. Speaking in
Sylvan, she said, “We are here in the woods on the invitation of Agatha the
Banshee. If you have a problem with that, take it up with her!”
“YOU HAVE DEFILED THE FOREST!” the creature repeated. It lashed out at
Erwen-Spider, who scuttled out of the way on eight nimble legs, but caught Alec
squarely with a second attack.
Alec
groaned as he felt the poisonous sap pump into his body, impaled on several
stumpy limbs that grew out of the spriggan’s fist. He tried to cast a firebolt but the spriggan shook him
senseless before dropping him.
“No!” Bob
shouted and cast firebolt , killing
more of the wasps.
Erwen-Spider bit down on the spriggan but all he got was a mandible full of
leaves.
Varien hit
the last wasp swarm with an eldritch blast. The glowing hammer-like conjuration
splattered the remaining insects.
Radegast
tried to stab the spriggan with her rapier but missed. She cast bardic inspiration on Alec.
Xylon felt
the hair on the back of his neck stand up as a cold whisper reached his ears.
“We have
unfinished business, Xylon…” Agatha hissed from behind him.
The
banshee flickered into view, looming over the wizard and clawing at him with
her cold claws in an effort to drag him away.
Xylon
frantically ducked and dodged. “Wait a minute, Agatha! I was gone only as long
as it took to defeat the Red Wizard just as you asked! You can see that we’ve
returned to the forest at the first opportunity! We can honour our agreement!”
Varien
turned and glowered at the banshee.
Agatha
hissed at the paladin, sighed at Xylon, and then disappeared. “You know where
to find me, Xylon…” her voice echoed.
Alec swung
his sword and chopped shards of living wood out of the spriggan’s side.
The
spriggan roared and flailed at Alec, missing the eldritch knight with its
limbs.
Erwen-Spider
lunged at the creature, which deftly stepped out of the way of his attack.
“This ends
now!” Bob shouted, sending another firebolt
the spriggan’s way. The fiery projectile detonated within the creature’s chest
cavity, and tongues of flame licked out along the creature’s body. The spriggan
roared.
Varien
pulled Talon from his scabbard and staggered the creature with two solid hits
with the sword. Wood chips and burning leaves scattered in all directions.
Radegast
aimed the rapier at the spriggan. “Time to cut you down to size.” She lashed
out with a flurry of hits, chopping the burning spriggan down until it fell to
the mossy ground.
Radegast
stood over the pile of firewood. She shook her fist at the forest. “I asked for
peace!” she shouted. “BUT YOU CHOSE VIOLENCE!”
There was
a low keening rumble from the forest around her that shook the adventurers to
their boots.
Erwen shed
a tear.
Radegast
turned to her companions. “Perhaps we should not tarry here.”
“I’m
thinking we should give Xylon’s girlfriend that bauble and be done with it,”
Bob said.
Xylon
shook his head. “I’m thinking this golf ball is more important than we
realize.”
Varien
frowned. “But you’re the one who made a deal with a banshee!” he spit
scornfully.
The party
struck out westward as the trees rustled in displeasure.
Xylon
picked up a shard of wood and poked at the spriggan’s corpse.
“Take
that, you stupid tree.”