In Absalom, the Venture-Captains claimed it would be a nice walk in the woods, a pleasant change of pace from the bustle of the city. Obviously they forgot about the brambles, boulders, and biting insects of the Verduran Forest, which turned the jouney into an arduous three-day scramble of detours, torn clothes, and near falls. Fortunately, Venture-Captain Dennel Hamshanks made a firm impression before the expedition left Absalom.
The air grew still as Hamshanks rolled into a meeting room deep inside the Pathfinder Lodge in Absalom, his jowls flowing and his enormous axe clanking against his thigh. The man’s black eyes scanned the room. “You lot?” Hamshanks spat. “Well, maybe you’ll surprise me."
“Your boat leaves in an hour, so I’ll be brief. One of the Society’s contacts in Andoran sent us an interesting little nugget this morning. A druid named Hemzel swept into Augustana’s Civic Library last week, demanding his right of research. Our contact learned that Hemzel acquired a lorestonefrom somewhere in the Verduran Forest. Heard of such a thing?” Hamshanks paused expectantly and spat again. “Of course not. Heard of druids, at least? And their crazy stone circles? Well thank Gorum for that. Lorestonesare somehow connected to them—supposedly they can bestow you with all of the knowledge of the druids. We’d like to know how, so we want that stone and you’re going to get it for us."
“Unfortunately, the Society is not a friend to Hemzel. He’s the self-declared protector of the Verduran Forest inside Andoran’s borders and some of our more eager explorers have angered him and his little band of gnomes. He’s sworn a blood feud with the Pathfinders."
“Break out your skills of persuasion and get me that lorestone. Do what you need to—sweep the floors or plant some trees for the old man. Something nice—let him know we’re there to study and not to slash and burn.”
As the sun sets on the third day of travel in the Verduran Forest, the welcome sight of a puffing chimney—Hemzel’s home, according to the map—reveals itself atop a hill.
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The lanky alchemist struggles through the brush. With every step through the difficult terrain, his vials clink softly in his pack. He adjusts the bandolier containing more alchemical materials.
"Well, if we weren't on a task for the Society, I imagine I'd be able to find some reagents - perhaps some rare ones. But,' Maaarv kicks his leg loose from yet another bramble, "I do miss the deserts of Osirion."
As the home comes into view, Maaarv wipes sweat from his brow. He looks around at his companions. "Well, I guess we try playing this nice? Who's got the best, uh... people skills?"
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Aod had seen worse places than the Verduran Forest. He'd been born in one. When he was young, in the time after the witches had put his home to the torch, his family had wandered the wilds of Irrisen, sleeping in tree hollows, ditches, and caves.
The years since that time in the wilds of his homeland had added many hands to Aod's height and corded muscles to his wide shoulders. His head is shaven, his red beard braided with small metal charms. A fur rimmed cloak drapes his shoulders over a mail shirt in a constant battle with rust. Around his waist a many ringed thick leather weapons belt bears a battered longsword, club, and a couple mismatched daggers. On his back, a half-dozen javelins fill a quiver strapped alongside a sturdy travel pack and a notched wooden shield. On a baldric over his shoulder was the one possession he carried that seemed of any quality or value - a large bastard sword engraved with arcane runes on the hilt. Every night he would spend time cleaning and caring for the weapon, usually singing soft ballads as if putting a child to bed.
At first glance he appeared to be the typical savage brute, but after a time in his company it becomes clear that he has a talent for storytelling and more than a little knowledge of magic.
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Eredax did not know much about Lorestones, and was only aware of probably the most bare basics regarding druids, but that did not deter him from taking on the task at hand with his usual positive mindset.
Of course travelling through untamed woods was not easy, but then again it was what needed to be done to carry out the request from the Society with success, so he travelled without complaining.
Looking at the hut, he comments to his travelling companions - "Well, every trip begins with a step, and the first thing we need to do is approach his doorstep, and show him we are not a threat - when it comes to words, I have no issues in addressing Hemzel - I have nothing against him and, reason allowing it, he will understand he has no reason to hold anything against us" - he smiles.
Starting to move towards the homestead, he turns back to the others - "Shall we get moving?"
As he moves, he scouts the area ahead for any signs of movement, or unseen threats.
Smoke rises lazily from a chimney set atop a small, round wooden hut just over a steep hillside covered in thick vines and brambles.
“Too late, too late for Hemzel!” a high voice cackles from behind the hut. “Gire, finish them!”
Suddenly a nearby half-rotted log bursts open and a swarm of angry spiders pours out!
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Maaarv is able to keep calm with the shouting and the sudden appearance of the swarm of spiders. He moves forward, looking to get a better line on the spiders, drawing his acid flask from his bandolier. Hmm, I thought I had more flasks than this...oh well.
The alchemist then rears back and hurls the flask of acid at the spider swarm.
Maarv's flask doesn't land a direct hit but it does shatter close enough to douse a good chunk of the spiders in deadly acid.
The surviving spiders rush forward climbing and biting all over Maarv and Aod.
The combined poison from so many tiny vermin is enough to affect the big ulfen and Aod finds his grip weakening.
This time, Maarv's thrown weapon lands dead center in the mass of spiders blowing them to bits and scattering little spider-pieces everywhere.
Aod shakes off the poison with no further damage.
A tiny voice calls out from above.
"You may have killed a bunch of spiders but you don't stand a chance against me! Leave this place or face my terrible wrath... and stuff..."
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"Bah! I hate spiders. Should've known skimping on alchemist fire was a bad idea." Aod steps away from the toasted spiders, drawing the big sword from its harness as he does. Whoever was calling from behind the hut sounded like they had more allies then the creepy arachnids, and Aod was preparing for more trouble.
"You want wrath, you'll get it if you don't show yourself right now and start begging for mercy!"
The voice is audibly shaken.
"Oh yeah, I'm not scared of you. Just because you're all big and muscley and swinging around a giant sword! Whatever! I'll turn you inside out! Don't tempt me!"
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Aod changes tactics.
"Alright, now that we've established how tough we are, let's see if there's cause before we need to unleash the hurt. We came to see a druid, but it seems someone else had business with him too. Care to explain?"
Looking to his companions, he raises an eyebrow looking for backup.
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Though not completely sure what is going on, it seems to Maaarv that helping Aod talk this person down is a good idea. He does his best to help Aod convince whoever the voice belongs to.
"Hello there! As my friend suggests, further fighting shouldn't be necessary. Why don't you come down and help us finding our druid friend."
"You're friends of Hemzel?" the voice asks.
Aod feels a rush of air as something approaches his face. A second later, a tiny feminine elfin figure with luminescent butterfly wings appears before him.
"You have to hurry", she pleads. "They're hurting him!"
The tiny fey points towards Hemzel's hut atop the hill.
"Cyflymder. Please, there's no time. Hurry!" she pleads with tears rapidly swelling in her eyes.
Rushing to the hut's entrance Aod immediately notices that the door is unnaturally warm. It's then that he spots the thin tendrils of smoke spilling from the structure's windows. The smoke billowing from the chimney isn't from the fireplace, the hut is on fire!
Throwing open the door, the smoky interior comes into view. In the far corner laying in a pool of blood is the crumpled form of Hemzel. Patches of flame spread along the hut's earthen interior walls. Despite the flickering flames and the light entering through the windows, the whole area is filled with clinging twilight.
"You can't stop what's coming" a deep echoing voice calls out.
Aod senses something large approach him but it's too little, too late...
A male humanoid figure suddenly appears and drives a double-edged battleaxe into Aod's ribs with deadly force. He has tawny fur, tiny knobs of horn jutting from his forehead, and a fey cast to his twilight-shrouded features.
"The time of mortals is at an end", he warns as he tears his weapon from the ulfen's side.
Despite his injury, Aod responds in kind opening a jagged bloody gash across the fey-man's chest. The blow is solid but doesn't seem fully effective.
This man is unseelie-touched. As a result he's gained a number of fey attributes including a resistance to non-cold iron weapons.
The fey-man gasps in surprise as the wave of shadows overwhelms him and falls to the ground unconscious.
Maarv is able to drag Hemzel's motionless form from the burning hut but it's too late. The man is has already bled out. Clutched to his chest is a gore-caked journal.
It appears to be written in druidic short hand.
The tiny sprite flits over and lands adjacent Maarv and his charge. Seeing the druid's condition, she lands on the ground and collapses to her knees. She weeps openly on his chest.
"Poor Hemzel. He was such a nice man..."
Bo'alo is able to puzzle out bits and pieces but the chunks of the journal elude him.
The lorestone is keyed to druidic circles, and one lies several hours’ travel north from the hut on a lake island.
A band of fey had recently been harassing Hemzel and threatening to destroy the lorestone.
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Breathing hard, Aod drags the fey creature and his weapon from the burning hut, then crouches to catch his breath. When Maaarv offers him a wand, Aod chuckles.
"Got my own." He flicks his wrist to produce a Pathfinder standard issue variety.
"If no one can figure out that writing, I got a scroll probably can."
Reading from his scroll, Aod is gifted with enough magical understanding to puzzle out the rest of the journal.
Hemzel assiduously avoided exposing the lorestone to sunlight.
The sun’s rays striking the lorestone inside of a druidic circle disintegrates it.
"His name used to be Thaven", the tiny fairy says, lifting herself from the slain druid with a gesture at the unconscious fey warrior. "He was a lumberjack that Cyflymder captured. Cyflymder exposed him to the First World and that's what he turned into."
"He's very mean and very scary", the tiny fairy says. "He wants to use the Lorestone to bring a fragment of the First World into your world. I tried telling him that mortals can't live in the First World but he says that's the point."