Over the Hedge

Helm’s Hold receded behind the three giant eagles and their riders, the tall spire of the Grand Cathedral remaining visible long after they departed the city and flew to the north. It was not a comfortable journey. Compliant though they were, the giant eagles conjured by Erwen were not trained mounts, and struggled to stay in the air with the added weight. The less said about the polymorphed Alec-Eagle’s prowess as a mount, the better. Siegfried had to dig in his heels and grab double handfuls of feathery hide just to keep from being bucked off into mid-air. “Where to?” Erwen shouted. Varien was too busy hanging on for dear life to his eagle’s talons to answer. “Time to visit Thundertree!” Bob shouted back. The dark green bulk of Neverwinter Wood sprawled to the east and south. To the north were the Crags, the name given to the mediocre mountain range that rose above the forest, with the sheared-off peaks of Mount Hotenow rising highest. A blue haze on the western horizon marred by a dark smudge indicated the Sword Coast and the city of Neverwinter. The party flew on, keeping Neverwinter Wood to the east until Erwen pick up the trail of the blue ribbon that is the Neverwinter River, which wends its way through the forest towards the sea, and soon, where the river emerged from the imposing dense cover of Neverwinter Wood, they could see on its southern bank a shadowy valley shrouded in grey mist, a slow-roiling fog that shrouded all but the tallest treetops. It roughly lined up to where Erwen last saw Thundertree marked on Gundrun’s map. Siegfried Thann took note of the sun’s position and made a quick calculation. The polymorph spell he’d cast on Alec was soon to wear off. He pointed at Bob and used a message cantrip, as his voice would be lost in the wind and the sound of the eagles’ straining winds. We should probably head to a clearing and take refuge in the woods, he said. I don’t like our chances out here in the open. “Who even is this guy?” Bob shouted. I’ll tell you when I’m not about to fall to my death, Siegfried responded. He nudged Alec-Eagle, who took his command to mean he should fall out of the sky. Siegfried brought the ungainly Alec-Eagle in for a landing that wounded the professional pride of the giant eagles that swooped in behind. The half-orc hopped off Alec-Eagle’s back and drew his sword. He began pacing a circle, measuring his steps as he did so. Alec’s eagle shape blurred and reformed into a more human arrangement. The fighter found himself on all fours in the forest clearing, spitting eagle feathers from his mouth. “You turned…me…into a bird!” he shouted the accusation at Siegfried, going for his sword but stopping as his shoulders seized up from the stress of unfamiliar exertion over the last hour. “Never mind that,” Bob said, rolling up his robe’s sleeves as he prepared to drop some sort of magic onto the strange, well-dressed half-orc, whose jaunty red scarf seemed to billow of its own accord. He’d hopped down from his eagle, leaving Radegast behind. She was staring silently to the south, unmoving, as the eagle beneath her faded out of existence. Erwen patted the neck of the second eagle as it returned to its home plane. “Why don’t you begin by telling us why there were three Alecs in his room at the inn?” Bob said. Siegfried stopped his count, having paced out a half-circle in the grass, and turned to Bob. “One of those Alecs was an asshole, and wanted to kill him.” He flourished his blade for emphasis in Alec’s direction. Bob spluttered. “And one of those Alecs was you!” “Only temporarily, as the situation necessitated,” Siegfried said. He bowed theatrically. “I am Siegfried Thann, an agent of the Lord’s Alliance, assigned to keep watch over you on your first mission from Phandalin.” “You what?” Varien said, getting to his feet. “Yes, I am a member of the Lord’s Alliance,” Siegfried said. “Sildar Halwinter asked me to keep an eye on you after giving you a package to deliver to Dagult Neverember in Neverwinter, and if need be, retrieve the package myself to ensure its safe delivery.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “It was never my intention to slit any throats.” Bob squinted at Siegfried, trying to divine the half-orc’s intentions. “Sildar never said anything about a fellow agent shadowing me,” he said. “And he never said anything about getting turned into a bird!” Alec added. “See Bob? This is why factions and guilds are a waste of time,” Varien said tiredly. “You get hired to do a job, but then someone else gets hired to make sure you do what you’re told. There’s no trust.” “Consider it part of the job interview for new inductees,” Siegfried said. To Bob he asked, “Do you still have the package?” Bob’s hand strayed to his bag of holding , where he knew that the packet of papers bound for Neverwinter was safely stored. “I still have it, and will complete my task as ordered.” He said proudly. Erwen looked the well-dressed, well-groomed half-orc up and down. “I think I will call you Roy,” he said brightly. “Listen, you’re going to have to excuse our demeanor today,” Varien said to Siegfried. “We’ve had a pretty rough morning, and we’re not willing to take anything at face value.” He turned to Erwen. “Great day so far, huh Erwen?” Erwen grinned. “What is going on today, anyway?” Bob felt an uncomfortable sensation on top of the general skin-crawling feeling he got whenever a strange person with obscured motives attempted to join his circle of companions. He looked down at his bare forearms and noticed that several new scales, gold with an edge of green, had sprouted on his skin. Quickly, he turned down the cuffs of his robe. “Brother, I think we should talk,” Bob said to Alec. The two moved off and engaged in a quick conversation, each Trevelyan bringing the other quickly up to speed. “I stood watch over Dalleg’s body as the rites of Helm dictated, and in the morning I heard someone trying to open my door,” Alec said. “When I opened it, I found two mirror-images of me standing in the hall, and before I knew what was happening, one False Me was trying to kill me, while the other False Me was trying to kill him.” Alec’s eyes began to cross. “It was all very confusing, and that was before that Alec turned me into a bird!” He pointed at Siegfried, who was sketching runes into the grass as he completed his circuit of the landing site. “Okay,” Bob said. “So we had an audience with the Holy Watcher and High Commander Javen Tarmikos, and received dispensation to delve beneath the city to confront whatever evil was festering there. Then we were allowed to refit and re-arm inside the Gilded Eye Chapterhouse, while Radegast and Jamie went to the library to get some information about what we might be facing in the darkness below.” “And then what happened?” Alec asked. Bob shifted his feet uncomfortably. “Well, Radegast took it upon herself to do some sleuthing, and discovered Javen Tarmikos’s secret study, which was full of incriminating files about the Gilded Eye’s activities.” He produced a sheaf of papers recovered from the library and showed them to Alec before placing them back inside his bag of holding . “Radegast called me into the library and we tried to clean the place out, but Javen showed up and…” “And?” Alec asked. “One thing led to another,” Bob said defensively. “Javen all but caught me and Radegast red-handed, and Varien—well, you know how these Westerners are—Varien said something that pissed Javen off to no end, outing that Lannister fellow as a spy for the Order of the Gauntlet. So a fight broke out.” “You fought the Order of the Gilded Eye without me?” Alec asked, eyes wide. “We fought Javen Tarmikos, his guards and that pansy Brother Vartan, the Gilded Eye’s librarian,” Bob said darkly. “You should have seen me, counterspelling things left right and centre! I did what I could to keep our friends in the fight, but we were soon outnumbered.” “How did you escape?” Alec asked. “Well, I had to dump most of the Gilded Eye files to placate Tarmikos,” Bob said. “But we were still in mortal danger before Erwen conjured those two giant eagles and he, Varien, Radegast and I flew up out of the skylight.” “What about Lannister?” Alec asked. Bob’s face fell. “He…he didn’t make it,” the cleric said. “He covered our escape and died a hero.” “I’m sorry to hear that, brother.” Alec said, placing a gauntleted hand on his brother’s shoulder. Siegfried muttered an incantation as he completed the ritual to create Leomund’s Tiny Hut . With a flourish he tossed his sword into the air over the circle, where it hung blade-down, a swirl of mist beginning to form in the shape of a dome over it. Varien nodded, impressed. The dome took on the hue and shade of the glade around it. Siegfried pulled back part of the dome like a curtain. “Enter, if you please.” Radegast sighed and marched into the dome. Bob and Alec were slower to move towards the protective structure. “What proof do you have that you’re a member of the Lord’s Alliance?” he asked. “Same as you, after a fashion,” Siegfried said, raising his hand to show Bob a signet ring. The ring featured a crest, its field blue-green, atop which a white horse with a brown eye strode  passant beneath the displayed and elevated wings of a black crow with a yellow eye. When he pressed a tiny catch, the crest hinged open to reveal the familiar sigil of the Lord’s Alliance nested beneath. “Fancy!” Erwen said as he padded into the hut. "Does your ring do that, Bob?" Bob ground his teeth. “Now,” Siegfried said. “I’ve proven to you that I am who I say I am, so can you now confirm for me that you still have the package?” He opened his palm expectantly. Alec frowned. “My brother’s word is his bond, bird-man.” Bob made no move to produce Sildar’s packet of papers. Siegfried sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just get in,” he said. The Trevelyan Brothers grudgingly entered the hut. Siegfried let the canopy drop into place behind him. “Well then,” he clapped his hands together. “You’ll all be safe for a few hours in here, courtesy of House Thann.” Varien picked a spot on the ground to stretch out. Radegast was sitting in the furthest recess of the dome, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms hugging them tight. Erwen was already snoring. Bob and Alec sat down together silently. “Don’t everybody thank me at once,” Siegfried muttered as he folded his legs beneath him and straightened his jerkin. There was a tense silence that stretched out for several hours as the adventurers tended to their wounds and tried to rest. “So, what did you to do to piss off the Order of the Gilded Eye?” Siegfried asked innocently. Bob’s eyes narrowed. “That’s none of your business.” He turned to Radegast. “Hey, you okay?” “Yes, I’m fine,” Radegast answered in a shell-shocked monotone. Siegfried frowned. “Now, now, we are on the same team, are we not?” “That remains to be seen,” Bob said darkly. He fished around inside his bag of holding for the Gilded Eye files, propped the first sheaf up on his knee, and began to read. “Whatcha reading?” Siegfried asked, eyeing the papers from his spot on the floor. Bob snorted and shifted his position so Siegfried couldn’t see. “Mean!” Siegfried sniffed. Varien rolled over to face the half-orc. “So you’re with the Lord’s Alliance, eh?” Siegfried smiled, showing his pointed, pearly whites. “Why yes, that’s correct. I am a Cloak in the Lord’s Alliance.” “A Cloak, you say?” Varien’s eyelids fluttered in mock surprise. “Bob was named a Cloak when he joined the Alliance not a tenday ago. If you’re both the same rank, why were you ordered to shepherd him to his destination?” “Well, if you must know,” Siegfried replied, “My methods, while demonstrably effective, have proven entirely too unorthodox for some members of higher rank in our organization to tolerate, and my promotion within the ranks has thus far proven elusive.” “That means someone once handed you some documents to deliver and you were an ass about it,” Varien said. “No, it means that my nose is green and not brown,” Siegfried shot back. “Ugh, if I give you something to read, will you keep your trap shut?” Radegast snapped, reaching into her satchel for a book at random and tossing it at the half-orc. Siegfried caught the projectile easily and regarded the tome’s front cover. “ The Chronicle of My Friend Lambrac the Damned? ” he read. “Sounds like pleasant reading.” “I wish we still had The Malediction of Mormesk to give him , ” Radegast muttered under her breath. Bob tried to make sense of the files he and Radegast had hurriedly grabbed during their escape from the Gilded Eye Chapterhouse. The first was a detailed warrant outlining accusations and charges against a group called the Order of the Burning Dawn, an adventuring guild once active in Luskan and other Sword Coast locales, including Waterdeep. The Gilded Eye accused the Burning Dawn of demon worship and the documents summarized a campaign against the organization, detailing arrests and, ominously, the cleansing of several guild houses. The second was entitled “The Ashmadai – Red Wizard Alliance.” Bob’s eyes widened at the reference to the Red Wizards of Thay, whose evil reputation had reached even Kirkwall. The documents discussed factions of the devil-worshipping Ashmadai active in Neverwinter and Helm’s Hold, and indicated that one faction, led by a dwarven woman named Favria, had been eradicated after Helm’s Hold had been reclaimed by the Gilded Eye from the Prophet Rohini, herself a high-ranking Ashmadai. The Ashmadai had allied with the Red Wizards of Thay, first under a woman named Sylora Salm and later under someone named Valindra Shadowmantle. The Thayans had designs on Neverwinter Wood, though the documents were unclear as to what they had been up to, or what the terms of their alliance with the Ashmadai were, except for oblique references to a certain scepter or rod coveted by the devil-worshippers in Shadowmantle’s possession. The third was called “Deviltry in Womford” and accused the local Baron of insufficient zeal in prosecuting the demonic threats afoot there. Bob didn’t know where Womford was and couldn’t bring himself to care. The fourth was a report on an organization called “The Cult of the Veil.” This report was sparse, but mentioned that this cult, made up of street preachers and itinerant clerics, preached a brand of apocalypse that was anathema to the Gilded Eye. The cultists were notable for tattooing their bodies with passages from their apocalyptic holy book. Intelligence reports suggested they were active all over the north, gaining popularity in a town called Longsaddle, north of Triboar. Bob flipped through some files that were dedicated to individuals, not organizations or locations. He perused a warrant issued for a man named Mordai Vell, the surviving patriarch of a noble family of Neverwinter and resident of Vellguard Manor in Neverwinter’s Blacklake District, whose correspondence with the Prophet Rohini had been intercepted by the Gilded Eye before the Prophet’s banishment. Vell’s pursuit of Rohini was romantic in nature, as some of the letters were considered “scandalously explicit,” and excerpts from those messages in the document were enough to make Bob blush. That relationship was enough to bring the noble under the Gilded Eye’s suspicion. Fabulously wealthy, Vell was a notable patron of the arts in Neverwinter. The Gilded Eye had intercepted several trade caravans operating under Vell’s banner but had only extracted the most circumstantial evidence. Appended to this file were accusations that the Ashmadai lurked amid the ruins of Neverwinter’s House of Knowledge, cross-referenced with the Ashmadai-Red Wizard file that Bob had in his possession. Next was a file on Lord Protector of Neverwinter Dagult Neverember. Neverember, whose authority ostensibly reached all the way to Helm’s Hold through the “Protector’s Law,” had nonetheless fallen into the Gilded Eye’s paranoid orbit through his public association with Mordai Vell. Bob flipped back to the Vell file. “The very same?” he muttered. He kept reading. The Gilded Eye suspected Neverember of being connected to the Ashmadai, along with his mercenary captain General Sabine, who was also suspected of falling under the demonic cult’s sway. According to intelligence reports, the Ashmadai had infiltrated the mercenaries guarding Neverwinter’s Chasm, from which the spellscarred and plaguechanged creatures volleyed forth during the worst of the cataclysm. The final report bore the name “Varien Aether.” Bob’s eyes widened. The Gilded Eye’s file on Varien Aether had been opened quite recently, and according to the date inked on the parchment, it coincided with the party’s arrival in Helm’s Hold just a few days ago. The file, however, also consisted of collated references to Varien that had appeared in other warrants. He had apparently first caught the attention of the Gilded Eye in Luskan, where he had associated with known members of the Order of the Burning Dawn. At this, Bob flipped back to the Order of the Burning Dawn file and sure enough found Varien’s name listed in a long list of suspects. Aether was suspected of having joined the Order’s church, the Cult of the Phoenix. “Cult of the Phoenix?” Bob mumbled to himself, thinking of Varien’s affinity for fire. He continued to read. The Gilded Eye considered the Cult of the Phoenix to be an evil organization that worshipped a dark power. There were references to a group called the Obsidian Circle. “Obsidian Circle?” Bob repeated. “Didn’t Varien ask Sildar about that?” He read on. According to the Gilded Eye, the Obsidian Circle was an organization, active in Waterdeep, suspected of demonic activity. The most recent entry in the ledger against Varien involved his accepting an invitation to meet with a proscribed religious group in Helm’s Hold. According to the warrant, a Gilded Eye agent at Heartward Hall had approached him after he had been overheard speaking with Heartwarder Mera Corynian about worshiping the Phoenix. The agent had offered Varien an opportunity to meet with other fellow Phoenix-worshippers, and Varien had accepted. Bob put the sheaf of papers down and turned to Varien. “So, you say guilds are bad, but what about cults?” “What are you talking about?” Varien replied. Bob waved the papers at Varien. “We need to talk. Varien, Radegast, Erwen, outside, now!” “If you’re having trouble with those documents, I do have quite the talent for reading,” Siegfried offered, knowing that he was unable to leave the confines of the tiny hut lest the spell discharge. “Thanks but no thanks,” Bob said and stalked off. “You know, your brother is something of a dick,” Siegfried sighed at Alex. Alex shrugged. “Takes one to know one.” Bob stalked off to the north until he was sure he was out of Siegfried’s earshot. He turned to Varien and shoved the warrant at him. “What’s all this about the Order of the Burning Dawn?” “The Order of the Burning Dawn?” Varien said. “This again? You’re starting to sound like Javen!” Bob snarled at the insult. “Explain, Varien.” “Look, it’s like I said to Javen,” Varien said. “The Order of the Burning Dawn was an adventuring guild made up of good people in Luskan, too good for Luskan if you ask me, who offered me shelter when I was a lost lad trying to get back on my feet after watching my entire city, my entire family die at the hands of the undead!” He shrugged. “If they were mixed up with demons it’s the first I’ve heard of it. I was definitely not a part of it.” “What about this Cult of the Phoenix?” Bob asked. “That’s a religious group dedicated to Hyolyn the Phoenix,” Varien shrugged as he scanned the warrant. “If this warrant is correct, then the Obsidian Circle is like a dark reflection of the Cult of the Phoenix.” He smiled. “At last, more information!” “And what about this Siegfried character?” Bob asked. “Radegast, did you recognize the symbol he flashed us?” “If I remember my Waterdhavian heraldry lessons correctly, House Thann is a noble house in Waterdeep.” Radegast replied. “They’re vintners and traders.” “So Siegfried is from Waterdeep,” Bob said. He pointed to the warrant. “And the Obsidian Circle is active in Waterdeep. Coincidence?” “Bob, you’re starting to sound like you did when you thought Radegast was Ragnar in disguise,” Varien chided. “Hey, she very well could have been!” Bob protested. “Showing up like she did just after Ragnar disappeared! How are we supposed to trust this Siegfried?” “All I know is, I’m never trusting anyone ever again,” Radegast said wearily, tears in her eyes. “Well, we know the Order of the Gilded Eye is out arresting people they don’t like from here to Waterdeep,” Bob said. “What’s our next move?” “Well, you wanted to go to Thundertree, and here we are,” Varien said, waving his hand to the north. “Let’s make the best use of our position, and after our business with Thundertree’s concluded, we can head to Neverwinter and then Waterdeep.” “Fine, let’s get this over with,” Radegast said, and began to walk into the trees. “Radegast, wait!” Bob called. The half-elf ignored him. Erwen shrugged and followed. He caught up to Radegast a few yards into the forest. Radegast was examining some tracks in the dirt. “Hmm,” Erwen said. “Someone’s been here recently.” Bob joined them. “What?” “Fresh tracks,” Erwen said. “Give or take.” “Great!” Bob said, heading back inside the tiny hut. “Okay, everyone pack up, we’re heading to Thundertree.” “What’s in Thundertree?” Siegfried asked. Bob ignored the question. “Could the Gilded Eye have followed us here?” Siegfried shrugged. “If we were followed, the tiny hut spell is easily dispelled. They could have ambushed us any time.” Bob, Alec, and Siegfried joined Varien, Radegast and Erwen, who was hunched over poking at the tracks. “I count eight pairs of boots. Heavy boots, well shod.” Erwen said. “Gilded boots?” Bob asked. “Maybe, but they are about two days old or more,” Erwen said. “Well, if nobody followed us, maybe we should follow them,” Varien reasoned. “They lead in this direction.” He pointed to the north. Radegast began walking ahead. The party encountered wisps of fog that threaded among the trees as they followed the trail towards Thundertree. They could see that it was not the typical early-morning mist that had yet to burn away with the midday sun, but rather a blanket of ash that swirled slowly, coating tree leaves with streaks of grey and leaving a foul taste in their mouths as they breathed it in. The ash cloud began to thicken. Radegast held up her fist in a warning as she stopped walking. The rest of the party joined her. They were standing before a tall, thick green hedge that stretched to the east and to the west as far as they could see, blocking their path. “Now that’s a hell of a thing,” Bob said. The hedge was at least twenty feet high, and too thick to peer through. The top of the hedge appeared shrouded in a cloud of grey ash that billowed like steam above a pot. Erwen pointed to a patch of ground. “Lots of booted feet kicking up a ruckus here, looks like.” The others saw that the grass had indeed been flattened and earth turned up by heavy boots. Here and there were tangles of dead branches that looked like they had been roughly hacked apart. Siegfried spied a tree stump nearby that had an object atop it. He approached. He found a small hand-axe of obviously Dwarven manufacture, spotted and streaked with rust. It was half-buried in the middle of the stump, which bore several biting wounds across its surface as if the axe had struck there many times. Etched into the axe’s blade were Dwarven runes that, as Siegfried gazed upon them through the Eyes of the Rune Keeper, swirled into letters he could recognize and interpret. “Hack,” Siegfried said, pulling the axe free from the stump. “This axe’s name is Hack.” As he hefted the axe, he felt a sudden feeling of unease wash over him like a wave. He looked around suspiciously, and then regarded the weapon. “There might be more to this thing than meets the eye,” he said. Siegfried cast identify . “Tell me your secrets, Hack.” Siegfried’s spell gave him a rush of insight about the axe. Crafted by Dwarven smiths, the weapon had been imbued with enchantments that made it a formidable tool for felling trees – it would deal the maximum amount of damage to plants and, interestingly, plant-based creatures. It was the perfect sort of weapon for a woodcutter out in the wilds. Siegfried was also gripped with the strong sense that this magical axe was one of a pair. “Ah, so where is your brother, little axe?” He whispered to Hack. Varien pointed at a section of hedge not far from the stump. “Looks like that axe might have been put to work recently. Check this out.” The party examined the hedge. Sure enough, a section of the vegetation, about four feet wide, looked much fresher and greener than the rest of the bushes that surrounded it. As they stood there, they could hear a crackling sound, as if the branches were knitting themselves back together, and as they inspected the bushes, they could see the tangles growing, ever so slowly. Trampled beneath the ground before it were sticks and branches, the ends of which showed brightly where they had been split and shorn. “Maybe there’s more to this hedge than meets the eye also,” Varien said. “I say we go through and be on our way.” He manifested his pact weapon, giving it the form of a farmer’s scythe. He began to swipe at the hedge, carving sections of it out with each swing. Siegfried felt another wave of uneasiness crest over him. From within the hedge wall came a furious rustling. And from the scrub brushes behind them. Humanoid shapes began to emerge, as if growing directly out of the hedge, trailing vines and stems as they stepped out onto the grass. Behind them, bulbs pushed up from beneath the bushes and burst, revealing crouched figures that stood up, their branches twisting together to form humanoid-looking bodies with head and limbs. The tallest one, looking like a living topiary shaped to resemble an armored knight, stepped menacingly towards the party, grasping a wooden staff in its claws, the head of the staff glowing with a weird blue light. The other creatures – Erwen recognized them as a kind of blight – had needle-like leaves layered over their bodies like scale male. Radegast cleared her throat and spoke in Sylvan. “Hello friends, how are we on this fine spring morning?” There was an angry rustling from the creatures. The tall one spoke, its voice like the snapping of twigs. You must leave this place. “Varien, back away from the hedge,” Radegast hissed to the paladin. To the blights she said, “We would like to speak to you peacefully this day.” The tall blight shifted its staff to point at Varien. This one did not come in peace. “Seriously, Varien, put the scythe away,” Radegast said. To the blight she said in Sylvan, “This one knew not that these lands were guarded.” The blights creaked and rustled in the wind. Radegast swallowed hard and tried again. “We seek passage beyond your wall to ravage the undead.” “What are you saying to them?” Varien asked. Radegast told him. “We’re here to cleanse Thundertree,” Varien said to the blights. “We mean no harm to the forest.” Radegast translated for him. The tall blight stood resolute. All who venture to that blighted land condemn themselves. “Wait, have you cleansed the land?” Radegast asked the blight. “Or do you protect it?” The blight must not spread, the plant creature said. The evil shroud must not spread beyond this wall. “May we secure passage, then?” Radegast asked. “We do not seek a battle with you, only the chance to go beyond this barrier and destroy the evil that permeates this river valley.” She paused and pointed at the hedge. “Should we fail, your hedge, tall and strong that it is, will still withstand whatever evil lingers beyond. There is no risk to you.” We suffer no trespassers to live , the blight warrior replied. “We do not seek to trespass on your land,” Radegast said. “We are here to assist you and seek your permission.” I grant no permission , the blight said. Depart this place with your lives. Siegfried watched the exchange carefully. He did not speak Sylvan, but he could tell from the speakers’ body language that negotiations were not going well. He began to strategize. “Right then,” Varien said impatiently. “There’s big evil beyond the hedge, but these plant people aren’t evil, or trying to keep that evil safe?” He reached out with his divine sense but could not detect any evil, fiend or undead. “That’s accurate in broad strokes, I think,” Radegast said. “Welp,” Varien replied with a roll of his eyes. “Tell them we’re here to stop the evil, and we’re going to stop it whether they grant us permission or not. If they don’t like what we do, they can just deal with it.” He crouched and jumped skyward, his boots of striding and springing carrying him up to the top of the hedge. “Varien, no!” Bob shouted. The blights shifted into a defensive posture. “Hah!” Varien said as he disappeared into the ash cloud. He landed atop the hedge, surprised to discover it was at least ten feet thick. His boots broke through the tangle of branches and leaves and he stumbled, losing both confidence and balance. With a surprised shout he toppled forward over the far side of the hedge. Varien fell into the upper branches of a tree and felt several limbs give way as he thumped down from branch to branch. His exposed skin was quickly covered in scratches from the coniferous needles, and he came to rest in a tangle of vines and sap-sticky branches. “Okay, so that happened,” Varien said to himself, attempting to free himself from the tree. He coughed as he inhaled a mouth full of ash, and realized he could barely see his hand in front of his face. As he did so, his divine sense detected a particularly noxious odor. A sound, carried on the wind, stopped his struggles cold. He’d heard it many times in his nightmares, and had heard it in reality once before, in far-flung Lorelei. It was the moaning of the restless dead.