Harmond pulls a wand from his bag and touches it to himself twice in preparation for the coming fight.
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As the team approaches the grove, Wonky brandishes a wand and moves to touch her beloved Sprocket.
"We are going to endeavour to keep you safe, Wonky!" the gnome says with a doting tone to her voice.
Wonky then produces the lorestone. "Are you ready, Sprocket?"
The dog immediately grows larger and more feral in appearance, its claws and fangs growing alarmingly-sharp.
Wonky then offers the Vixen one of her infusions.
"Vixen, this will make you grow in size as per previous. It might be useful in going up against a malevolent tree."
Lastly, Wonky asks Ahto for 3gp from the shared funds. "I need them as components for my infusion in order to be effective in combat."
"I think that is my preparation completed." As she says that (and just prior to entering the grove), she realises something.
"Oops!" she says, quaffing yet another infusion.
The feeling of Ash against her shoulder makes the watch duty relaxing… and when the watch is over, the Vixen wants nothing more than to hold her all night.
(Well… maybe she does want more, but there’s work to be done come morning!)
When the dryad doesn’t wish to be seen, the Vixen asks the satyr, “Would she object to me coming in? The ain’t shame in being afraid, and I know all about not wanting people to see a certain side o’ ye.
“I spent the last four years hiding from the world, ’cause I was ashamed o’ me feelings—fear, pain, anger. I think I get what she’s going through.”
When Wonky offers the growth infusion, VV thanks her and decides to take it once the tree gets close.
Even through the shaded darkness of the clearing, Ahto's divinely guided sight picks out the ghastly plant. A faint aura of knowing malice surrounds a dark brown tree too close at hand on the northern side of the clearing. Twenty feet tall it stands, with dark, twisted roots. Only a few reddish-brown leaves hang from its gnarled branches, which hang wickedly curved like scythes befitting its appellation.
As per Wonky's prior warning, the scythe tree proves to be no mere mindless plant. Perhaps it senses the presence of the satyr at the rear of your ranks, or perhaps it realizes Ahto has directed your eyes upon it. Either way, with a shuddering lurch, the scythe tree lunges forth and swipes at the inquisitor lord with its blade-like branches
Despite his steely caution and defenses, the Abadaran suffers a rib-bruising blow from the tree upon his armor.
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"Sprocket!!! Attack!"
heardmymaster heardmymaster ATTACK gogetthething and ATTACK
The feral dog gallops into the clearing ahead, spying nothing immediately noteworthy to attack. Suddenly, the tree pulls back its sickle-shaped branches.
The green-haired gnome sidesteps, aims casually, and lets loose a gold piece.
The Vixen steps over Ahto and says to the tree. “Ye’re just another serial killer far as I’m concerned. I hate yer kind more than any other.”
She charges it and gives a solid kick, as if to prove her flesh-and-bone limbs are stronger than those of wood.
"Lets see how well you handle a bit of fire"
As Ahto calls upon the power of Abadar, Harmond's fiery magic crashes against the scythe tree's broad trunk, causing plumes of flame to erupt along its height. Its branches shudder and convulse.
Wonky and Asham each land a shot that pierces the bark and buries itself among the foe's heartwood, but the missiles do little appreciable damage to the terrible tree.
Sprocket, however, possessed of the aspect of his primeval ancestors, tears at the bark with his bite and rips away shards of blackened wood.
The Vixen charges forward, but before she can deliver her mighty kick, the tree's wildly lashing branches, sharp as steel, manage to land a terribly dire strike upon the towering woman. Though the wind leaves her lungs and her vision blurs with the wound, she still delivers a kick that splinters bark and wood.
"My beloved, forgive me for calling upon such powers, but it is to protect you," Falchos bellows to the forest itself before raising his panpipes to his lips.
As the music flows from his pipes, three small flames kindle to life behind the scythe tree. From the size of a lantern's flame, they grow and develop arms and legs. The sparse grass of the shaded clearing sizzles beneath their steps as three fire elementals begin to enter the material plane.
Having cast Mage Armor upon herself as the party made its preparations, Eunomia now conjures two bolts of magical force that streak over your heads and impact against the deadly tree's trunk with a deep pop.
The scythe tree feels the growing heat behind it, emanating from the elementals, so it turns its attention upon them in a reflexive panic. Its first, frantic swing misses, but two more slashes from its sharp branches send two of the elementals back to their native plane just as quickly as they arrived. However, the strikes also leave scorches upon the tree's branches.
The Vixen’s kicks are incredibly ineffective... and right in front of her girlfriend, too.
Eunomia smiles, just a little. "Vixen? You did say you wanted to see my fire. I think it's a good time for it." She steps forward, arcane words on her lips, and a ray of fire erupts from her fingertips. To the party members surrounding the creature, the fire feels pleasantly warm as it passes.
Sprocket continues to tear away at the tree with ancient strength, and Eunomia's blessed fire strikes the whipping branches of the tree, causing them to crackle and split beneath the white-hot flames.
The remaining fire elemental is unable to land a burning blow upon the writhing tree.
"More fire. Yes, thats a great idea! Harmond waves his wand and calls forth a bolt of fire to attack the tree as his flaming sphere continues to burn its base.
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As the blasted tree somehow evades the roiling ball of flame, Harmond punctuates his displeasure by blasting the scythe tree with a concentrated beam of fire. The spell sears away the tough bark and ignites the wood beneath. Soon, the entire predatory plant has gone up in a great conflagration, dispelling much of the darkness haunting the clearing while casting long, dancing shadows in its death throes.
Thus is a terrible threat right upon your nascent nation's doorstep dispatched, and your fey allies and citizens have been avenged upon this wicked tree.
The Vixen doesn’t care that the tree is obviously about to topple. She mercilessly kicks it while it’s burning up—
—and finally strikes with the power she would have liked to display in front of Ash while the tree was able to feel it. “Ye can keep burning in hell,” she tells the broken corpse.”
She finally calms down by the time the enlarge effect wears off, and humbly says to the casters, “Thanks for saving me ass.”
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Ahto approaches Vix, and places a rough hand on her shoulder as he grips the Iron Key with the other.
"Master of the First Vault, grant healing and comfort to this one who fought in the cause of Law and Order."
He then moves over to the smouldering remains of the scythe tree.
"Be it Abadar's will that the sins you committed in life, the same sins that condemned you to death, be consumed in the fires of justice. May that same fire give me strength, and light my way through the darkness of anarchy and chaos."
As he speaks, a small white flame appears; hovering in the air mere inches before his face. An inky black, almost liquid smoke rises from the maw of the creature and slithers upwards, drawn as if through a hollow reed towards the flame.
As the smoke is consumed, the candle-like flame becomes a torch-sized ball of fire. Ahto reaches out with his free hand and grasps the fire, cradling it in his hand. He brings it to his mouth, and inexplicably, swallows it; the licking flames flowing into his mouth as if from a drinking horn.
Ahto shudders as he swallows, the light of the fire slowly diffusing across his skin. The cut in his side closes, leaving a pink line of new skin.
Taking a moment to gather himself, Ahto releases his hold on the Key, takes a deep breath.
The Vixen feels much better. “Thanks for that. It’s weird… I’m a bit scratched up, but somehow feel stronger.”
She then checks on Ash. “Enjoy the fireworks display? With Harmond’s fireballs and Eunomia’s holy fire, I don’t think we gotta worry about wooden soldiers no matter how big they are.”
Falchos bounds forward and bellows a victorious albeit discordant warcry. He proceeds to dance around the smoldering husk of the scythe tree, smashed into kindling by the Super Vixen's kicks. The satyr punctuates his victory dance with arm pumps and pelvic thrusts.
The Vixen gets a kick out of the victory dance, and remembers to thank Falchos for summoning the fire elementals (which took the attention off of her while she was still recovering from apparently impaling herself).
“So do we get to meet yer girlfriend now?” Hearing herself, she adds, “Or should I say ‘wife?’ Whether ye’ve someone to officiate weddings out here, or ye do without the formalities, I feel like wife’s the right word.”
The Vixen's mention of the word "girlfriend" seems to catch the satyr and freeze him in mid stride. Of course, this only launches him into another paroxysm of excitement.
"Oh, yes! My beloved! She's safe now! I get to go home and tell her that she's safe. She's going to be so happy!"
Falchos stamps his hooves and spins in a tight circle, pleased by the prospect of playing hero for his dryad lover. However, he seems deaf to the Vixen's discussion of weddings and formalities. Whether he is too excited to hear or he simply chooses to ignore the uncomfortable subject remains to be seen.
He bounds to the edge of the now-purged clearing and with a wave of his hairy hand, eagerly offers to lead you back to Tiressia's grove.
Eunomia stands panting, her hands still raised in a warding gesture. Then she lowers them, somewhat stiffly. "It's been a while since I used that spell. Haven't had the cause to, when Magic Missile does just as much damage and can't miss."
She pauses, looking between Ahto and Vixen. "You're both still hurt. I can cast the fire on you, and it may heal you. It may not. I will not do so without your permission." She smiles then, though it somehow looks sad. "The fire only hurts those who are evil, but there are many people for whom it does nothing at all. It doesn't mean they're bad people, so just know that...for whatever reason, whatever power granted me these gifts, it has a very select few that it will help."
She stands up a bit straighter. "Whether I cast the fire or not, and whether it heals you or not...I can promise you it will not change my opinion of your characters." The words have the weight of a vow behind them.
VV’s remaining wound heals. “Oh, that feels real good. I love a spell that heals me and burns @$$holes.”
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After fending off the bestial and joyous licks of Sprocket, Wonky rises to her feet. She casts a critical look about the glade.
"These fell creatures are predators. There may be reason to think that this one has collected - either purposefully or inadvertently - the trappings of its unfortunate prey somewhere nearby."
She blinks, looking at her uncomprehending team-mates.
"I am speaking of loot."
Even beyond the dancing illumination of the burning scythe tree, Wonky's gnomish eyes pick out a small collection of coins and other shiny objects scattered among the bones littering the clearing.
The outer surface of the ring is etched with a motif of entwined grape vines. There is no maker's mark or familiar inscription on the inner surface, rendering the business of tracing its ownership a fool's errand.
The Vixen notices the ring, but says nothing. She notices Falchos says nothing either, but doesn’t worry about that.
“Beloved! Right—that’s the term ye prefer, and it’s perfectly romantic. So, to Tiressia’s place then?”
"Thank you, Falchos, for notifying us of this problem." Eunomia smiles at the excited satyr. "I'm glad we were able to help. Let's get back to the grove so you can tell Tiressia the good news."
Falchos leads the party back to Tiressia's tree, but in his exuberance, he makes it difficult to keep pace with his strides. Thus, you make haste and return to deliver the good news.
When the sylvan grove comes into view, you catch a glimpse of a woman swathed in green, her head topped with a wild shock of orange hair. She kneels by the pond at the mighty oak's roots and weeps softly, her tears creating tiny ripples in the otherwise still water. She looks up when Falchos leaps into the clearing, but she turns to flee once she notices your approach close behind.
"Wait, my beloved! We have fantastic news! We have slain the scythe tree!" he calls out, the words echoing through the trees like a blast from a horn.
The satyr's words halt her just as she plants a palm upon the oak's trunk, and the hand begins to meld with the bark. She slowly turns to take stock of the news and visitors that have arrived at her proverbial door, and you can take better stock of this unearthly woman.
What you first took for a robe of green is in fact living plant life clinging to her like a gown, and her hair bears the vibrancy of foliage in the height of autumn.
The Vixen takes in all the beauty (and being the fashionista that she is, she’s as blown away by the outfit as she is by the fey herself!), then says, “I’m known as the Vermilion Vixen, and Ash here’s my beloved.
“It’s a pleasure to meet ye, but I hope it’s truly a time to rejoice. Do ye know if yer sisters’re safe?”
Although it is her satyr consort that gives momentary pause to the dryad's flight, it is the Vixen's sincerity and Ahto's forthrightness that assures her that she is in the presence of trustworthy souls. Indeed, Lord Ahto demonstrates his worthiness to rule by the efficacy of his own introduction to the dryad. Meanwhile, the Vixen's own worth is rewarded as Ash edges ever nearer until their shoulders are pressed close.
"I...thank you very much for your service," she says, pressing a hand to her heart and offering a half bow.
"It seems dear Falchos has already told you much about me, but in case he neglected the important, my name is Tiressia. Regarding my sisters...I have not seen them in many, many seasons, but I trust that they are safe. The closest is Elenthe, who lives on the western verge of the forest. My other sisters planted their saplings quite far away when the time came for us to part, so they were well removed from the scythe tree's hunting grounds."
Eunomia smiles, happy to hear that at least this dryad's sisters were safe. "It was...well, I won't say no trouble, as that is an insult to both the creature and the harm it caused, but both our duty and our pleasure to take out such a threat to these lands." She considers Tiressia a moment, then adds, "Is there a reason you have not seen your sisters lately? Perhaps we could send a message of some sort?"
Tiressia offers a brief smile as a first response to Eunomia.
"I suppose the childhood of our kind is a rare subject," she muses with a quick laugh. The lighthearted gesture lifts Falchos' spirits further, seeing his consort happy again.
"Much like a maple seed pod floating upon the wind, we can only travel freely when we are young. We spend those fleeting seasons with our family until the time comes for us to put down our own roots. We take our saplings, travel far, and find our own homes.
"Nevertheless, we find ways to keep in touch," she adds with a renewed smile, drawing upon memories. "We can always find messengers to help us. Falchos, for instance, is good enough to carry tidings to them from time to time."
"Except Elenthe," Falchos interjects with a shudder. "There's something off about that girl. Too much time spent in the swamp."
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"Esteemed Tiressia, my name is Wonky Prong," the gnome begins. "Junior," she adds after a pause. "My colleagues and I are engaged in mapping the unexplored regions of these lands. A by-product of that project has been the establishment of the nation of Tamlyn and, more importantly, official diplomatic relations between our people and the fey community." Here, she nods at Falchos.
"If I may come straight to the point, we would be very interested in learning as much as we can about the natural majestic grandeur of these lands, and I cannot think of individuals more well-suited to enlightening us then your family. Already, I have learned much in your presence - I had heard it rumoured that wetlands in this area, but to have it confirmed is good to know. To have contact with Elenthe so as to further research and document the topography of that region - her home - would be invaluable to our fledgling orienteering expedition."
"We would be honoured to be able to officially work with you as a protected citizen of the realm of Tamlyn - a FIRST citizen. With your partnership, we might be able to reach out to your sister as a potential ally already vetted by your station. I do not intend to honey my words to charm your decision; I simply state the facts - we will not go far without you joining us in our fledgling union. Would you do us the honour?"
Sprocket breaks into a spate of doggy hiccups as the gnome finishes her address.
A range of emotions play across Tiressia's face as she listens intently to Wonky's explication: gratitude, curiosity, confusion, and trepidation.
It is hard to tear your attention away from the dryad, but for those who can, they notice a look of frightful worry upon Falchos' own face at the mention of visiting Elenthe. This is compounded when Tiressia casts an over-the-shoulder look in the satyr's direction, as though wordlessly asking him about this "First Citizen" business. This leaves the satyr trembling, appearing on the verge of fleeing.
The dryad sighs and takes a moment to mentally compose her response.
"Well, it is certainly pleasing that you have the wisdom and consideration to consult the native residents of the forest. Indeed, it is a relief that you see us as residents rather than obstacles or, mother forbid, enemies.
"That being said, please do not expect too much from me. I can no more turn my tree into a stone than become a servant of a mortal kingdom. Of course, I would relish the opportunity to work in partnership with you, especially in regards to the forest. It would be foolish of me to deliver a flat forbiddance in regards to felling living trees without inviting conflict with your people. I want to believe, though, that we can find a compromise that satisfies your needs whilst preserving the forest as a whole."
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Wonky nods. "That is gracious and wise of you. I would hope that we would be able to find some way to come to an accord, and a partnership would be welcome, I would think---" here, Wonky looks at Ahto for encouragement.
"Regardless, we are truly seeking aid in exploring and cataloguing the natural wonders of this land." She adds quickly. "And being sure to avoid disturbing anything more than the ground upon which we tread."
The Vixen says, “The idea’s to make sure people recognize fey land as belonging to ye. We want ye to keep yer customs, and as far as legal stuff, I think loggers’ll respect that a grove ain’t to be touched.
“I’ve been outspoken about making peace with kobolds and other beings that humans don’t typically understand. And I just adore Tyg—we were friends at first sight. I’d been keeping her and Perlavish a secret from everyone but Ash, for their protection… but making fey land legitimate far as the human world’s concerned is much safer.”
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"If there is no law or treaty binding your people and ours, I foresee no good outcome. If your people are given legal standing, however, grievances that might otherwise result in violence and bloodshed can be addressed by tribunal, and just recompense be made. That is the purpose of our offer," Ahto adds.
"We only wish to help you and your kind. We can all live in harmony, but in order to do that we must come together, and forge an understanding between our peoples. Any endeavor worth doing requires that we put in the work to set it up first. I for one look forward to all the great things to come from our alliance."
"Legal standing you say?" Tiressia says, contemplating the matter thoughtfully. "I presume you would want us to adhere to the standard assortment of mortal laws prohibiting murder and theft? Nothing too intrusive, such as binding us to worshiping your gods or forced servitude, correct?"
"Or requiring that we wear pants?" Falchos interrupts.
Tiressia shoots her consort a sharp look. Her eyes cast their meaning subtly, but she is telling Falchos to let her handle these impromptu treaty negotiations.
"In lieu of the traditional taxes that humans and mortals are so fond of, we could allow a certain number of trees to be taken from the forest. Of course, we would still insist upon the replanting of seeds to replace what is lost. Similar accommodations could be made regarding the hunting and trapping of animals - don't take more than is needed, and never wipe out entire herds or warrens."
Falchos wanders the grove, idly kicking a stone with his hoof.
"Talking like a merchant. She's been spending too much time with Melianse," he grumbles quietly, his voice somewhere between frustration and amazement.
Eunomia shakes her head at the mention of worship. "You have the right of it. No one in Tamlyn is bound to worship any god, and certainly no one will be forced into servitude. Murder would be prohibited, yes. Theft...I am aware that the fey view property somewhat differently than mortals, so that is likely something we will need to discuss in greater detail. In general, if you feel a law is too intrusive, you can tell us. We're not trying to trap you, or force you into following laws completely against your nature. We want to treat with your people as equals. That's what citizenship means to us."
"Your suggestion regarding logging and hunting rights in lieu of taxes is, I believe, a fair one." She looks to Ahto for confirmation, as he is the one in charge of taxation.
At the suggestion of a fey representative to council meetings, a worried look crosses Tiressia's face.
"I cannot stray far from my tree, so I could not possibly serve as an envoy. However," she steps closer and whispers, somewhat with embarrassment, "I would not recommend entrusting either Tyg, Perlivash, or even Falchos with such a responsibility.
"Tragically, Horace may have been the perfect candidate. He was personable, majestic, and fond of traveling," she sighs.
"Thus, our best option may now be Melianse. She can be rather pessimistic, and she has a streak of cynicism and sarcasm, but that largely comes from her adroit wit. She is very intelligent, and she can even be keenly persuasive when she wants to be. On top of it all, she is an accomplished sorceress."
Despite the praise she offers for her nixie peer, Tiressia cautiously suggests that you allow her to approach Melianse and sell her upon the idea of serving as a representative of the fey.