"I am Gain. Kraf has told me why you are here. Your tongue I speak a little, moreso than some of my folk. He says you are here to slay the white boar. We wish this too. He slew Grom, our... I know not the word, taur'ohtar? Our leader, you might say. We seek vengeance."
"Noble elf, I am a Dragonborn. I am descended from an ancient race, who value honour above all else. For myself, I am a Paladin, and have dedicated my life to the service of my God, Breasal, and to defending the world, or such parts of it as I am called to serve, against the forces of evil."
"If I am called upon to give my life, that good may survive and triumph, then I meet my God with peace in my heart. If that is in the pursuit of our quest or yours, then my life will have had purpose."
This is, I suspect, the most that anyone's ever heard Ddraig say!
Ack, I meant Gain in the last post, not Grom. Grom's the dead one.
Gain replies, "We know nought of this boar, save that it appeared one day from the deep woods. What a magnificent trophy! We gave chase, until we had run it for a great time, its eyes were red with fury. We and the men tried to wound it but to no avail. Grom's horse shied and he was thrown into the boar's path."
"Reward?" he turns to Macmoor, "Your reward is that we allow you to enter Kilfay and the Darkwood beyond. That is where the beast is now. What proof of its death does your king want?"
"Could be we'll be needing to show whole beast to Ri Conn first. He'm mightily fetched by death of his son. Reckon tha canst take head and tail once Ri Conn knows beast is right one. Shows there's no bad doings that way."
"The Ri Conn will have his boar. There can be no mistaking such a beast. We will have the head and tail before you leave this wood. We will take you to the borders of the Darkwood, and you will flush the boar out as we surround the wood. If you have to kill the boar it will be no shame to you. Honour will still be served. We will be avenged."
The treant regards Ghadmyr with what you assume is wryness, "In the tongue of men, my name would perhaps be best shortened to Limblithe. You would not like to see the Darkwood so much if you knew more of it. The elves do not travel it, nor do we treants. It is where the goblins hail from."
"Tha said tha don't go there, but canst give more clues on likely hazards? Goblins. Got a mortal fear of them. Speaks their language and all. Learned it to try and shake fear of them. Dint work."
"I know little more than that there are many evil beasts within. I suggest that we set a time limit on how long the elves should wait for your return. A week, I think, should be sufficient." the treant replies.
"I am saddened to learn of a forest so tainted," Ghadmyr says somberly. Then, with a faint sparkle in his eye, he adds, "That said, I fear no forest. Only the creatures that dwell within it."
"Reward?" he turns to Macmoor, "Your reward is that we allow you to enter Kilfay and the Darkwood beyond. That is where the beast is now. What proof of its death does your king want?"
"Or you could just hunt it yourself? But you don't seem so keen on that. Thanks for the offer to enter your, er, cursed forest - very generous. But I was thinking of something a bit more concrete. After all, this boar might not simply stop with your leader. If we fail, it may come back for you, or others of your people. And those who come after us may not respect your ways and just take what they want."
Macmorr turns to the halfling. "Goblins are likely not going to be the worst we face in there - they go down nice and easy in my experience. It might be good if the forest people could offer us some help, even if they don't want to go in there themselves." He gives a significant look to the elven spokesman.
"Our 'help' will come when you flush the boar out. If you are so keen for riches, we can offer you none, bar your safe passage back to the lands of men. If you are afraid, then you may wait with us to deliver the killing blow, whilst your comrades hunt the boar and chase it out."
Macmorr laughs. "This has nothing to do with fear. You don't understand. Our dragon friend here fights for good. Others fight for their honour or their chief. I fight for money. I'm a mercenary, it's what I do. You don't want to square up to the boar and that's fine - no point going to your death to prove a point. So you want us to do it. There's no shame in that for either of us. But if you want our help, you need to give us something in return. That seems only fair to me. Even if you don't have gold an jewels, you must have something of value - healing medicines and so on.
"Safe passage through your lands? Well, if the boar was nothing to you, then sure, I'd be happy with that. But it killed your chief and you want it dead. That's different. You can make a stand on principle if you want but that boar is still out there. You want our help. You want us to risk our lives so you don't have to. We need something in return. People never value what they get for free, and your attitude is pretty much saying you don't value the help we are offering."
"You will be disappointed. We have nothing that you desire then. For the rest, we pledge our friendship and aid, as well as safe passage back to your Ri." Gain says finally.
He really means it.
"We value honour and loyalty. These are worth more than your money. If you do not understand that, then you do not understand us."
"Don't reckon you're thinking rightly on this Macmorr. Tha's getting grugach aid in grugach lands and tha can't know when tha'll need it. Seems fair dealing to me. Like for like, see."
The band of would-be boar chasers makes its way into the Darkwood, walking along the trail for perhaps 300 feet or so eastwards before getting to a fork in the path, one going left, the other right.
Near the northern turn-off, you spy a treant regarding you solemnly.
If you wish, you make a Nature and/or Perception check.
Ghadmyr realises, noticing the strange noose-shaped vines hanging from the branches of the 'treant' that it is in fact a hangman tree, a dangerous and intelligent plant that kills live prey by enticing them with a hypnotic perfume if they get too close.
Ghadmyr whispers to his comrades, "Beware yonder tree. It's not one of the benevolent treants we encountered in the past. That's a hangman tree, and it will lure you into its clutches if you get too close."
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