Ratigan adds: "Remember, you are a long ways from the Free City of Greyhawk. You are in the backcountry. I make my living finding things to buy and sell no one else can. My master called it 'Scrounging'."
The two elfs discuss things and question Cirilla about her ordeal. When she updates them, they talk together a short while and speak to the group:"We'll take care of Cirilla till this cult is destroyed. We hear there is a hermit that lives in the grove on the northwest part of town. You may want to visit him for more information. We talked to the mayor, and we think he is still untainted, but the town is more than half subverted. You will have to work knowing that cultists outnumber the regular townsfolk, and the numbers of cultists continues to increase as good people are taken to the swamp to be 'converted' at the secret base."
The elves look around. "We will continue to spy and report to the mayor, but we were right about that temple. It must be cleansed completely of evil."
Felgar adds: "There is a basement in the temple too past the hall of statues."
"I say we finish loo-er, 'clearing out' the temple to make sure they can't go back there," Strang votes, again not quite quick enough to censor himself fully in front of the paladin.
"I'll lead. That false priest needs to have his head put on a pike."
And if I told you he has slaughtered many and enslaved many more?
Well, I'm certainly not going to mount it on some floofy princess's ridiculous hat.
Bizzlemont nods. "If this hermit is friendly, then it really shouldn't take long to meet with him. We might learn some new things to help us. Then we can go back to the temple."
What about wisdom? Don't you need that too?
Well, you're pretty smart. I guess I should trust you.
"It is my opinion that we need to finish our business at the temple first - It was already extremely difficult to clear up the place the first time around, and we have lost too many of our companions, to allow it to be for naught"
Terion stands up as he fits himself - "If we allow them to entrench again, and the time to prepare, we may never be able to get them out of there - we must settle this once and for all, and as quickly as possible"
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"I have every inclination to agree, Terion, but both times we've entered that temple, someone has died because we allowed ourselves to be surrounded by forces we never imagined even existed in that place. If this hermit knows secrets that can turn the tide, I'd feel much more confident knowing what the enemy does, rather than storming the place and hoping for the best. We WILL end this feud, mark my words. But twice we've made the same mistake, and twice we've paid in blood, only to barely survive as a group with casualties. Our luck will not hold out forever. We will not always be rescued by the timely appearance of an able stranger willing to dive into battle with us. We must take our fate into our own hands."
"So who was the first dashing hero?"
Magnhildr's face is a mask of impassiveness, but a twinkle in her eye gives away the joke.
"I will follow the groups' will, but I cannot agree with you Elgoron - it is exactly because we have shed too much blood on that place already that we need to follow through - the second time around it happened because we were forced to retreat and give them time to regroup. If we allow that to happen for even a longer time, we may not even be able to get back in"
"I would very much like if Strang would go there and at least take a look around, but as I said, I defer to the group decision. So if it is to the hermit, then to the hermit let us go - time is of the essesnce as more and more villagers fall under the sway of this menace!"
"As much as I agree with the thought of not allowing them to regroup, Terion, that's exactly what we did last time and it didn't do us a lick of good then. And speaking as the guy whose neck is on the line for scouting, it's a lot safer to ask the hermit what he knows than risk myself getting caught sneaking around what I don't."
"I think I'm in agreement with Elgoron and the others, Terion. No matter what we do, we're going to be giving our enemies some advantage. Either they dig in and we get some knowledge, or we go in before they're prepared and we don't know what to expect."
"Hit hard enough and it doesn't matter how well prepared they are, or what tricks they have up their sleeves."
"We need to cleanse the Gozran temple first. Once that is done, we should see this hermit before travelling to the swamp to confront the cultists in the seat of their power. The fact that they take people out to the swamp tells me that what is out there is much more important to them than the temple of the Greenleaf."
The elves listen to the argument and nod. "Going in is the dwarvish way. Seeking maximum knowledge is the elven way. Both have their merits. Obviously we have been sneaking around, biding our time, and passing information to the mayor. We have only intervened when needed for your group, and Ratigan, who cried like a baby when they captured him and led him off to the swamp. We thought we were rescuing a woman or a small child when we freed him."
Ratigan turns red, obviously not wanting that story told.
Magnhildr snorts in laughter before she falls over on the ground giggling like a little girl. After she recovers from the laughing fit, she turns to the others.
"I think we can storm the temple. We sneak in, hit hard, then seal up any secret entrances we find."
"We've already stormed the temple - twice! - and both times got our asses handed to us on a plate."
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"If we are going in, we need to work out our strategy first. We've simply improvised so far, and it's not done wonders for us. We need to maintain a tighter formation in the hallways, and we most certainly need to be more alert for flanks and ambushes. Twice we've been surrounded because we let our guard down, and our less durable friends have paid the price. Those with shields should be leading the way, shoulder to shoulder, and those with good eyes and ears should be right behind them. Since we have a few people who are built for absorbing punishment, we should make sure we have a rear guard as well, and be ready to rotate out if we're flanked or if someone needs healing."
Bizzlemont looks at Elgoron. "And we need to figure out how to deal with a Silence effect. It made us almost useless. Seeing as he will have time to recover, I'm sure we'll see it again."
"What's a few more hours to check up on the hermit on the other side of town, after an entire day already spent licking our wounds after our last debacle going in there ignorant and unprepared? But hey, if you want to repeat the same mistakes, it'll be interesting to see who gets killed this time and gets their brains nom-ed on by zombies like Flaeg."
"Yeah, I guess there is a point to both sides. But I changed my mind. I'm with Felgarr. Let's go take care of the temple first." Belrain says. "Just as long as I can get my new armor first!
"Dude, seriously? You don't want to wait to go back into the temple - but you want to wait for your shiny new armor that will take just as or even longer to get as it will to talk to the hermit?! Fine, whatever. Let's go get ourselves killed."
Capitulating in protest, the decision shifts to a 6-2 majority in favor of storming the temple.
"Strang, you are faster than I. In fact, all of you who are unarmored are faster than I. If it will take you half a day to reach the hermit, then take it. Travel swiftly, be stealthy, and get good information. Those that can travel light and fast should join you: Ama, Bizzle, and Elgoron. The rest of us should stay and work on our tactics: Belrain, Terion, Magnhlidr, and myself."
"Upon your return, we will know more than we do now, and we will have our formation sorted out. Then, we can assault the temple and slay the defilers."
"Wouldn't it be better for me to go with the others? I'm just as fast as they are, even wearing chain."
"Truly? I did not realize that. Then yes: that would be better."
"This is a bad idea" - Terion rumbles - "I have said my piece about it, and would say no more except that SOME of us survived by sheer luck when we were all together - if you find similar resistance by any reason, the worst will happen"
"With that said, have a nice trip"
Part of the group travels light to the west part of town, where the party originally entered and stayed at the Golden Grain Inn.
As the party heads north at the intersection where the Golden Grain Inn occupied the Northwest corner of the road, they feel the eyes of the entire town seem to be on them.
Moving north from the intersection about 30 feet, the path heads over a bridge over the river named the Realstream that was on the group's left as they entered town from the west over a week ago.
On the right-hand side of the road is an inn. A large colorful sign pictures a red dragon with its head resting contentedly on its paws. A plume of smoke rises from the serpent's nose and its eyes are closed. This inn is smaller and older than the Golden Grain Inn directly south. Several large flowers brighten the front, and a very large middle-aged woman cheerfully calls out, 'Well Met' and waves, interrupting the sweeping of her porch. In the back of the inn a millhouse on the lake is mostly covered by trees.
On the left, the narrow path winds among majestic elms, at times disappearing into thick shrubbery. The bushes are dense, rising to a height of eight to ten feet among stately elms that average 75 feet in height. They are widely spaced and deliberately planted to allow prolific sunlight to pour in between the ancient boughs. The path leads up to a ramshackle cottage.
To your surprise, the grove and the Slumbering Serpent Inn are only a few minutes walk from the site of your abduction, the Golden Grain Inn. There must have been a communications problem or a misunderstanding as the trip to the grove has taken less than an hour.
Bizzlemont tromps along with the group, looking warily at the groups of townspeople. As they reach the grove, he gaps in awe at the height of trees, only seemly made bigger due to his shortened height. "You think the whole town is taken over by cultists?"
Strang snorts in self-satisfaction. "Lost time, huh? It was hardly anything to get here!"
"That's what we were told, but who knows how true that is. Let's go talk to this guy and get back as soon as we can, though. These creeps giving me the eye makes me think they're going to try and jump us in broad daylight."
With that, he makes his way up to the cottage and knocks on the door.
Opening the door is a short, octogenarian with a stoop. His face and hands seemed to be the color and texture of hardened, cracked leather. He slowly opens the door and looks out at his visitors.
He speaks in a low voice: "You are not normal townsfolk. Maybe not even from around here. What brings you to my door?"
A weasel with thin brown fur is perched on the old man's shoulder. He looks at you with intelligent eyes.
The gnome in the multicolored clothing steps forward. "Greetings. My name is Bizzlemont. My friends are here investigating the odd events in the town. We've been told you may be able to help us figure what's going on."
Magnhildr looks a little unsure about how to answer that question. She squirms a little, hoping that someone will answer.
"Odd events that started with being kidnapped in the night out of the Golden Grain. Some... friends, said you knew a thing or two about what's going on," Strang states bluntly, watching for a reaction.
The old man looks around and waves you inside.
"There is a cult base in the swamp. Only by decisively striking there can the cult be broken. From there, they can produce a limitless supply of thralls. When you are serious about taking out the nest, let me know, and I will show you there. I move a little slow, so it may take a while."
He looks around with a bored expression:
"Well, I'm not doing anything today--today is quite empty of planned activities. How about we do this? It will take me a few moments to pack some things. Whiskers here will need some food. Just make sure you protect me from the cultists, they can be quite vicious."
"If they're quite vicious, how have you persisted here so-far unassaulted?"
"How high are stooped old men on their recruitment list? Who is the brains of this outfit?"
"Look, you obviously know about the cult's activities. We've tangled with them twice now in the Temple, and we plan to go back to see what else we can find. Their base in the swamp may come next. Can you tell us anything more about them and their plans? We know they worship a Naga."
"Maybe we should go after those in the swamp first. I think they may expect us back at the temple again."
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"It seems that no matter our course, our journey leads to the swamp. Going there may be the most efficient course of action, though we will once again be unprepared for the lay of the land and the defenses that await us. With two raids to our credit--their measures of success notwithstanding--the leaders of this cult will undoubtedly have reinforced both positions. Striking directly at the leadership will also hopefully minimize unnecessary deaths, both for our part, and for the townsfolk."
"Eh, maybe so. Though I wouldn't mind seeing what else is in the temple. But if they have our things, they surely must have moved them to the swamp right?" He looks at the old man's pet weasel, missing his own familiar. "I couldn't feel Razzle when I was in the temple. I doubt he's there."
"Well, you are right about one thing. I don't want to wait until the cultists decide it is time for a recruiting visit. I am going to pack some things and move--maybe I'll be safer around a tough group of warriors."
The old man packs up some things and comes back with an embroidered cloak. The inside consists of three different shades of green with a clasp showing a green tree with a silver background. The outside of the cloak, however, seems to change as he moves through his cottage--blending in with the background and making him difficult to track with your eyes.
He puts out his arm:
"Someone lead me on, we haven't got all day. I am not getting any younger."
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Then he shares their fate. If he is, then the worst case scenario has him infiltrating us, in which case he gets his due. Best case, our worries are unfounded and he turns out to be quite helpful. Fair enough odds for me.
"Very well then. Let's regroup with the others and start scouting our approach so we can be done with this wretched cult."
"Fine. Let's take him back to see the others. What's your name, sir?"
Bizzle offers a small bit of food to the man's pet if he'll allow it.