As we left our intrepid heroes last time, in the mist covered grove of the ancient Gulthias Tree, their fate danced on a razor's edge when the behemoth of wood itself uproots with a terrible screech echoing all throughout the citadel! Skeletal briars ring the grove of rotten fauna, damp earth, and fungus, the smells gagging the throat and the groaning of the hulking tree as it lumbers towards the collection of rag-tag adventurers promises a lethal struggle! The tree's roots creak and thrash, though not quite quick or high enough to ensnare the goliath, they tangle about Borgen's stout form with cracking efficiency! Nikael darts to the cover of dilapidated stone interior walls, flinging a trio of deadly kunai at the hulking behemoth of a tree as Borgen slashes through the root around his belly with Shatterspike, severing it with a chop and watching with horror as the limb burrows into the soil like a desperate worm! The Tree howls in pain and recoils as arcs of lightning dance from the dwarf to its bark, placing the bright fruit in prime position for Faelon's ghostly Mage Hand to pluck it clean, the elf himself retreating to the previous chamber! Aelara thrusts at the tree with her rapier but alas merely chips out some bark, as Tarkan falls to his knees in supplication to Talos, entreating him for aid and blessing, Aelara, Borgen, and Nikael shimmering brightly with the power of the storm as the divine conduit himself taunts the tree with a shield bash. Changing tact, Aelara jumps and runs up the tree, her blade flicking out and severing a lower branch, watching it wither as the tree opens a gaping, splintery maw and with a wail, bites down and latches onto Borgen while simultaneously entangling Aelara! Suddenly a perilously long branch straightens and fires at Tarkan, impaling the emissary of Talos through the shoulder, though prompting no more than a grunt and shrug. Faelon is unaware of the threat his life is in as the bushes in the chamber seemingly come alive, attacking his fair ankles with sharp spines, Nikael in the cover of darkness drinking of his dragon's breath potion and belching a fiery spray at the mass of twisted bark and hatred, engulfing the base and wrenching a screech from its very core! Borgen turns to the trapped form of Aelara, felling the limb hefting her from her feet before unfortunately attempting to stab the trunk with his belaying pin, vibrating with untapped lighting and frustration. The elven wizard turns around and conjures a bonfire roaring beneath the base of the tree in glee before disappearing through the fade into the former chamber. Tarkan cleverly places himself to the rear of the tree and prays fervently, the air around the trunk erupting in thunderous accord though less effectively than desired. As the fight escalates to the wails of the tree and the groaning crack of wood, Aelara unshoulders her lyre and strums out a chord with ear-shattering resonance, and while a spectacle it too is not terribly harmful to the tree. Grumbling to herself, she half-heartedly reassures Borgen that everything will be alright, and Borgen believes her. The shambling horror that is the Gulthias Tree begins a horrible, unholy process of mending, wounds closing up with new bark in a dread facsimile of a seamstress' work. Nikael steps aside the clumsy efforts of the tree as roots spring forth and grasp Faelon, tugging the elf to the soil! From the surrounding caverns, the sound of sand on stone echoes as many twig and vine blights heed the calls of the devilish tree, shooting spines and scratching with claws at Borgen while Tarkan is spun, coil-like, in branches. Borgen cuts down the blight holding him back before leaping, rather gracelessly, through the air around the tree, hitting every erstwhile branch and barren twig on the way, before landing flat on his ass and smacking the tree with his belaying pin in shocking anger. The eladrin wizard reveals the scroll of scorching ray pilfered earlier, the page burning from the bottom up as a triad of searing lines of fire lance through blights like wheat, Tarkan similarly invoking a scroll of guiding bolt but unfortunately the power failing to coalesce, the large man falling to his knees, wracked with uncontrollable sobs, fearing abandonment by his god. Aelara plays a duet all on her own, perking up the crying goliath while plaguing the blights with unexplainable lethargy as Faelon struggles on the ground, covered in rushes and blights! Nikael breaks himself free of his wooden cuffs, the tree once again repairing with disgusting sounds and dark magic, sticky, blood coloured sap pouring from its various gouges and wounds. Blights firing needles at Tarkan are repulsed thunderously by the wrath of the storm, the large shambling tree moving away from the bonfire beneath it before biting at Aelara, snapping its jaws around her and tossing her mangled corpse to the soil! Nikael unsheathes twin shortswords, spinning and felling blights before joining Borgen next to the tree, the dwarf swinging recklessly at anything within reach! Faelon, in a fit of summer rage, mimics Nikael and cuts his way free of blights with shortswords, Tarkan, inspired by Aelara's last words and enraged at her death, connects his mace to the bark and sends splintered shrapnel in all directions. As is routine now, the bark begins to knit together, spewing blood red sap as it does so, uprooting and beginning a shambling charge at the broken wall Nikael now takes cover behind, barreling into the stone and collapsing the remains on top of the shinobi, roots lashing out to grab him! Imbibing the last few drops of his dragon's breath potion, Nikael contemplates the decisions he's made in life that led up to this moment, before exhaling and bathing the trunk in fire. A horrifying screech echoes through the caverns at this, the last desperate action of the mutant vampire tree to skewer Nikael on a long branch as he lay tangled in its grip dangling in mid-air, before it slows and slouches, the energy and life force animating it finally ebbing out. Faelon sips eagerly at a healing potion and reads from a scroll of cure wounds over the broken, yet still breathing body of Nikael as Tarkan huddles over Aelara's mangled form. The massive man lays a pair of gold coins on the eyes of the half-elf as Faelon breaks off a branch from the still husk of the tree, Nikael's sleeping form snoring lightly. After a short rest, Borgen carries Aelara back to Oakhurst with the party as they make haste, the skies dark and ominous despite the mid-day sun. That's no storm cloud, mutter Tarkan and Nikael, as the heroes discover in shock. Blackened buildings on the outskirts of town, the Copper farm, are a heart-wrenching sight to behold as the destruction of the homely little hamlet is bare to witness. Captain Felosial looks on at the carnage with despair in her eyes as Borgen rushes pas her angry questions and accusatory fingers on his way to the respite of the church, leaving Faelon and Tarkan to deal with the irate guard captain. Corkie deliberates and declares that Aelara is dead, peace be with her, and that there is nothing to be done at this stage. Unwilling to accept this, the party rush her cool body to the library, hoping beyond hope that Perren and Barla were around, as Faelon and Tarkan explain the supremely unlikely sounding story to a slack-jawed and utterly disbelieving Felosial, settling Viktor's civil debt to Oakhurst via his help with the Sunless Citadel. The fair and serene Balra seems unperturbed, retrieving a sheet of parchment, a spell scroll, with an incantation to revitalize Aelara, the girl miraculously appearing to be in a deep sleep. Perren watches over her as the rest of the group says farewell to Balra and heads to the inn for some much needed rest and relaxation. Upon entering, a strange woman in stranger garb flags down Nikael, speaking in an accented common and claiming that it has come time for him to pay his debt, and she has come to collect! Here comes to a close the tale of The Sunless Citadel, a tale of a criminal band of proper villains turned heroes, a small village named Oakhurst, and a bloodsucking tree bent on taking over the world through a magically delicious and medicinal fruit scheme.
