Carina sees no sign of anything immediately threatening.
"I'd started to not even notice it was so loud outside until we got in here. Makes this place feel a little unsettling. Wonder where we are, exactly?"
He wanders over to look down into the well.
Farrukh sees nothing at the bottom of the well--it seems to have run dry years ago.
Seeing your interest, Clunk says in a low whirr, "I checked. Do not trouble yourself with it. There is nothing worth your time there."
He seems unsettled, however.
At that moment, four nearby pine trees shift and warp, and four otherworldly figures emerge from them.
The tall, gallant figures stand bedecked in glimmering gossamer armor, with cloaks of vicious nettles draped across their shoulders. Halos of churning insects swirl about their heads. They wield wicked barbed spears in both hands, and four poles fan out from the plates of armor across each figure's upper back. Attached at the end of each pole is a banner, one fiery red fringed with bright crimson flames, another translucent white leaving a trail of cloud in its wake as it dances on the wind, a third deep brown and cracked like parched earth, and the last blue as the ocean on a cloudless day and frothing with bubbles. Their flesh is as pale as bone, and the thick, musty smell of decaying plants hangs heavy around them.
They stare with dead, emotionless eyes at the party, eyes glowing with power, age, and wisdom.
Carina awkwardly clears her throat. "Um... greetings. We have come here in search of knowledge--specifically, knowledge of the dracolich known as Dragotha."
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Eben looks around with interest. "Maybe it's when we are. What if the portal time traveled us back to before the hurricane was put up and there's Order of the Storm people around to talk to, like a living archive!"
As Carina speaks, a smile plays across the drawn face of the pale-eyed being in the lead. "You seek the Fountain, although you do not yet realize it. The Fountain of Dreams is linked to all things in Last Resort. The earth, the dark trees of the Doomshroud, the clouds above, my life and that of my kin are a part of it. If the waters are consumed, the Order of the Storm’s rite is undone. The secrets kept from the world will be released, and the great creatures of legend imprisoned here on this isle shall be unleashed upon the Material Plane once more." Its lip curls. "The Fountain shall not be despoiled lightly. What makes you believe yourselves to be worthy?"
EBen takes this in and blinks. "Okay, honestly, I think tying the release of information into the ending of magic protecting the world from that information was just a little bit snooty of the druids. Didn't they ever hear of books?" He shakes his head. "But whatever. It isn't a question of our worth, it's about the world's need, and it's all relative. That information is needed to keep the top servant of Kyuss from unleashing the wormgod on the world. Our 'worth', in that case, is that we have the means to end Dragotha once we have her phylctery in hand." He purses his lips and adds an adendum, "Plus there's a hierophant of Vecna running around on here who wants to get the information in the... fountain? for himself, just because Vecna's all about knowing secrets and all that, and from what you're saying it sounds like this release is a one time thing, so I suppose the question is if you think we're worthier than a guy toting around a severed lich hand."
"All is tied to all. Nothing is tied to nothing." The pale-eyed leader raises an eyebrow at Eben. "Powerful secrets are like great and terrible birds. They have a life of their own, twisting, fluttering, clawing. You cannot let one out halfway. You cage them, or you loose them upon the world. You have your own Vecnan friend to tell you that much." He sneers in Krekie's direction. "Vecnans and thieves, bandits and mercenaries, bloodsportsmen and kinslayers. Slaves to worlds of words and gears, slaves to gods who revel in distant halls and care nothing for what is green save for what can be brewed from it. What is it to us? The Hand of the Lich-Lord has come to Tilagos with his flock, seeking knowledge exactly as you do. Once these secrets are claimed our role in Last Resort has come to an end."
He turns back to Eben. "We know nothing of the secrets you seek. What we are is guides and guardians. Many good and kind and noble causes are twisted towards evil ends or by evil means, and many foul and wicked ones are turned noble by perspective. We do not claim any right to dictate the fate of the world, nor to choose who may. We merely reveal the path."
"So why ask if we are worthy? Reveal the path, and we'll prove ourselves with actions. Like we always do."
The strange creature looks at its four brothers, then back to you, cold and alien once more. "The Fountain of Dreams shall know those destined for its gifts in but one way. It will know them by the Trials of Tilagos. Survive these trials, and you may slake your thirst on what you seek. Fail, and Last Resort shall be your grave. I am Tylanthros, and the first trial is the Silence of the Doomshroud’s Mournful Song."
The green-eyed being speaks up next. "I am Beskawahn, and the second trial is the Claiming of Krathanos’s Golden Belt."
The third speaks. "I am Thadimar, and the third trial is the Death of the Thorn Vale Nightmare." Its eyes spark with crimson fire.
Finally, the last creature speaks, eyes shining with blue light. "I am Sayren-Lei, and the final trial is the Harvest of the Living Feather of the Roc King."
Tylanthros speaks again. "These trials complete, return here and we shall show you the Fountain of Dreams. Until then, we shall watch. And wait."
"Um... is the 'Hand of the Lich-Lord' doing the exact same trials? Are we competing with him to see who gets stuff done first? And if so, is it like, who gets more trials done?"
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"Slaves to worlds of words and gears, slaves to gods who revel in distant halls and care nothing for what is green save for what can be brewed from it."
"Oh my god guys, I think he's talking about you," Astraden whispers to Tanith and Cuetzpalli.
"So you all die when the fountain spills the beans, then? Seems like you should try to get out of here while we're working on killing the living feather and stuff." Astraden looks at the light-eyed being. "Anyway, you wanna tell us where the doomshroud is?"
"Um... is the 'Hand of the Lich-Lord' doing the exact same trials? Are we competing with him to see who gets stuff done first? And if so, is it like, who gets more trials done?"
"They seek to complete the tasks we have named. If they outspeed you, then the secrets of the Fountain are theirs."
To Astraden, the blind being only says, "We are the guides and guardians. We will remain to watch until the stories have been told and the choice has been made."
"Slaves to worlds of words and gears, slaves to gods who revel in distant halls and care nothing for what is green save for what can be brewed from it.""Oh my god guys, I think he's talking about you," Astraden whispers to Tanith and Cuetzpalli.
"I think you're right. Though I feel a bit stereotyped, to be honest."
Cuetzpalli looks at the shroud-like forest full of animal noises. "Is that forest the 'doomshroud'? All those noises could be its song? Maybe we should check out the green glow...."
Sass from the otherworldly librarians doesn't phase Tanith.
"If it's a contest these spooks want, we'll compete and we'll win."
With this declaration, the beings nod, and return to the trees from whence they emerged. For the time, the group is alone in this part of Last Resort.
"Right!" Carina claps her hands.
"So... which way do we go first?"
Cuetzpalli points at the ghostly green glow appearing within the forest, only to fade moments later, as if whatever creature was generating the light was afraid to be seen.
"There."
"Unless...Clunk. Do you see anything in there?"
Clunk looks up where Cuetzpalli is pointing. "My--this unit's sensory capacities are not superior to yours. There is... a green light in the forest, moving like a small, furtive flame." The inevitable stares into the distance a moment, then turns back to the party. "This unit expended its strongest offensive magic during the battle. Many of this party's resources are likely similarly drained. A rest may be necessary."
"I don't like resting when we're in a race. But it looks like we have no choice. Worst case scenario if they win, maybe we can just beat them up and take whatever it is they get out of this."
Carina looks at Clunk, then nods. "...yeah. I had to use a lot of bombs and stuff taking those octopins down... hopefully, we can afford to take a breather."
There is a small flash, and a sea crow appears in the party's midst and flutters onto Krekie's shoulder. The kenku pets the bird fondly, then nods to the group. "If I know my master, he will be taking his time. Time may be on our side. Besides, some of those tasks sounded like we might be able to crib off their work. Works just as well to let them find the feathers and belts and take the prizes off them after, yes?"
"A bit cowardly, but it makes sense. I think Kord will forgive us as long as we beat them in the end."
Astraden jumps as the crow appears. She glares at Krekie. "Now where in Mechanus did that come from? Was it invisible this whole time? Damn wizards and their familiars . . ."
She nods along with Cuetzpalli's reasoning. "They tried to soften us up with the sailors and the xill. It's only fair."
"So where do we camp? The forest gives more cover, but that might be where the doomshroud is. We want to keep an eye on the well in case Squidlord and the High Elephant get done early, but there's nowhere to hide."
Krekie's head tilts at Astraden's remark. "It came through the gate, same as you."
"Dammit, why can't these kind of things ever be like, 'win the drinking contest and succeed at the challenge!' or, 'find me my lost keys'. Eben grumbles. "But, yeah, fine, we should rest. Casting that ethereal glitterdust on the octopins took a lot out of me."
"You got a tent somewhere in those bags of holding, Tanith?"
"I can probably conjure something, if not."
"Nope, sorry. No tents in there Astraden", Tanith says after looking inside the bag.
"Huh, we really tend to travel light..." Eben muses, as he starts making shadow puppets with his fingers, wriggling eight fingers out of a central balled up hand. Before long, the surrounding grass swarms withs scores of miniature spider-shadows. "I saw the actual version of this spell cast a couple times by this street performer wizard in the Free City I used to know, up until these drow priestesses tracked him down and killed him for 'copyright infringement of the sublime Lolth'. Which sucked, guy owed me money, too." He spreads his fingers wide and just... wiggles them around in the air as the shadow spiders start to...build something. It's a tent, or more accurately, a yurt, 20 feet across in a hemisphere made out of something that looks and feels like spidersilk except for its tendency to kind of move around when you're not looking at it too closely. "Okay, so... try not to touch the walls, I don't think it'll snag anyone, but it's still kinda sticky and gross. Also not the subtlest thing in the world to camp in, but, bright side, whatever insects this place has, ain't none of them coming in to bite us..."
Astraden immediately sticks a hand into the wall. "Wow, very cool."
"Hey Farrukh, nice job zapping those xill things with your shield. High five!"
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"Turning that sword into a shield was one of the best decisions I've ever made." he says, reaching out to high five Astraden. He frowns when if she gives him the ol' "too slow" treatment.
Astraden slaps Farrukh's hand with gusto, enough so that it perhaps takes him a few moments to notice the clingy, foul-smelling residue now coating his cestus.
"It's like they always say, the shield is mightier than the sword."
"No, Astraden, that's not how the saying goes..." Eben says condescendingly, as he struggles to disentangle a flap of his cloak from the web-ish wall. "It's only if the shield is made out of wood. The pine is mightier than the sword."
"Ah, sorry Farrukh. I guess your shield is actually worse than the sword. You never should have changed it."
She gestures outside as she unpacks her months-old trail rations (Ooh, these crackers might have gotten a bit wet). "Y'all think it actually gets dark here at night?"
The party makes camp within their silken shelter. Looking uneasy, Krekie opts to sleep outside, and Clunk insists on standing watch outside as well. The inevitable still seems disconcerted, and clearly has something on his mind.
Astraden unrolls her ochre wool-and-linen bedroll, putting the outermost hurricane-soaked layer at the feet. "I've only had this thing for like six months. But it still looks like exactly as gross as the one I had with the bandits for nine years," she remarks to Cuetzpalli. "Anyways, it'll be tight, but I should be able to squeeze in once my watch is over." She pats the rough fabric, gesturing to him to lie down.
"I gotta say, Eben, this place is a big downgrade from the All-Seeing Eye."
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"I gotta say, Eben, this place is a big downgrade from the All-Seeing Eye."
"Hey, if you can conjure a better shelter out of thin air that's not made out of webs that are made out of shadow, by all means, do so..." Eben mumbles, trying to find a way to lay his bedding down in a manner that doesn't get it stuck to the walls. "And personally, the Crooked House was my favorite of our residences, so there. It had character. Just like this... thing." He twitches his head as a few loose hairs threaten to become a permanent part of the ceiling. "Actually, I know this other spell that would have made a huge carriage we could have slept in, but I thought that might be a bit conspicuous in the middle of nowhere. Though I don't understand if I can conjure up something like that why I couldn't just make a wooden hut for the night..."
Cuetzpalli nods. "Thanks. I'll keep it warm for you."
"Considering we've camped out on the stone floors of actual dungeons, I'd say this is a step up. Thanks Eben."
"I just hope this shelter can breathe; I don't want alchemy fumes to spread around and ruin people's sleep." Carina says as she sets her gear down.
"Sitting cooped up in the All-Seeing Eye making weapon blanches for people taught me the importance of that." She says with a brief dirty look in Eben's direction.
"Oh, yeah, those were great! I could use some more of those when you get a minute..." Eben says, in the nonchalant tones of someone who can't be bothered to read the subtext.
The party settles down for the... well, there doesn't seem to be a day-night cycle here, but they rest. The night passes uneventfully.
Well, mostly.
"Castles crumble, great kings yield
Armies flee upon the field
Destined lovers betray their troth
Woe to the foes of Harrowdroth!
Death awaits you in the Vale of Thorns!"
"I know you from another day
another time, another life
And now you see me withered, lost
a warden made a prisoner
It was a seed when Oerth was young
and filled with hungry hate it grew
Now I can only hear its song
Beware; it sings for you."
Then Kord turns to you, his expression suddenly deathly serious. He says something to you you cannot hear over the roar of the crowd. You manage to make out one word, a name:
"Krathanos."
Clunk spends the night sitting off to the side of the shelter, staring off into the distance. Krekie perches atop it, still seeming a little wary of the group, but before long the kenku seems to have drifted off to sleep. One can tell by the snoring.
When day clunks and Tanith and Cuetzpalli begin their morning exercises, Clunk is quick to approach them. "Which task do we complete first?" he asks. "Where do we go?"