Letitia's frustration mounts as she is unable to find any meaningful information about the Thrice-Tenth Kingdom within the Hut's library. She listens intently to Llewellyn's tale, but is again disappointed by the lack of details. While "immortal soldiers" and "shimmering firebirds" were new concepts, they'd already dealt with talking wolves and capricious fairies.
"Well, then. Incomplete information can sometimes be worse than none, so let us be mindful that a children's tale may give us false assumptions. I expect the Hut will again reconfigure itself once we introduce the keys to the cauldron, so let us rest and make what preparations needed before we do so."
She takes some time with Ariadna, sharing spells with her protege and discussing her next crafting project.
Letitia also utilizes the cookbook when she prepares her spells, augmenting hold monster with the lessons contained within, making it more difficult to resist (Persistent Spell).
Once everyone is rested and prepared to move ahead with their quest, she casts mage armor and threefold aspect, choosing the crone aspect. Then in a nod to pure vanity, she casts youthful appearance and again resumes the appearance of her young self.
Lastly, just before introducing the keys to the cauldron, Letitia casts false life for additional defense.
"It is time, then. Let us see where the Hut will take us next."
She puts the keys into the cauldron.
As the house-spirit mutters about the mess, Samuel can't resist a grin "Careful, ma'am, or you'll sweep me off my feet" but he steps lightly over the freshly swept floor, taking care not to add to the growing pile of snow and debris.
Spotting Ariadna nearby, his smile softens "Hey, little shadow" he says warmly, reaching out to gently ruffle her hair before placing a hand on her shoulder "I am happy we make it back and see you again"
Samuel glances at Letitia’s altered youthful appearance with a raised brow, but says nothing. He agrees with the overall plan of the group "Seems like a good time to get some rest and ready ourselves. I'll get to work on the powder and shot—we'll need every edge we can muster wherever this Hut drags us next"
With that, he finds a corner to set up his tools, the familiar routine of crafting helping him focus while the others pour over books or commune with their gods. The rhythmic sound of his work blends with the hum of quiet preparation in the Hut.
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Casting the keys into the cauldron, Letitia gives the contents a stir and the key slowly sink out of sight. The liquid in the cauldron bubbles and heaves, sparks of multicolored light emanates from within. After a few moments, the liquid begins to swirl...a swirl that begins to edge out into the surrounding space, eventually causing the entire room to swirl about your feet.
Though disorientated, your feet still stand upon solid ground, but that ground shifts and swirls, sometimes cobbles, sometimes wood, then tile, then dirt. The walls of the room flicker and tilt, as if a hundred different rooms were present in the same space.
Off to one side, completely unaffected by the cauldron, the house-spirit leans on her broom, giving you a wave. A wave goodbye...or hello?
Suddenly with a violent wrench of your surroundings the room stops it's chaotic change!
The wooden walls of the hut have disappeared, replaced by large windows set in delicate iron traceries that look out in all directions over a wide, gloomy garden. Thick clouds hang unnaturally low over overgrown stands of trees, barren flower beds, and white pebble paths. The sky and distant landscape seem peculiarly artificial, almost as if they were part of a faded and blurry watercolor painting. A large iron cauldron sits atop a round, marble-topped table surrounded by four white wooden chairs in the center of this circular room. A set of framed stained-glass doors to the south provide the only exit.
Looking a little off balance after the journeny, Llewellyn let out a low whistle and remarked "Well that was something... I wonder where we are exactly. Maybe there's some clue in this room?"
He had a good look around the room to see if there was anything of note before trying the door.
Letitia staggers back, finding one of the wooden chairs to sink into while she recovers from the disorientation. She gets a look of concentration for a moment and spryly stands up, stretching her back. "Should have stayed young for that," she mutters to herself.
After another moment of concentration, her posture stoops slightly but she remains youthful-looking.
"We've done it," she says with an air of wonder as she takes in the new surroundings both inside the room and out. "Nothing of immediate danger," she comments. "I don't see any further guardians akin to Ratibor..."
Her mention of the formerly accursed warrior has her immediately looking for him to confirm if he traveled along with them.
Ratibor did indeed travel with the group. Holding his head he groans, "And to think I wished to see more of this stinking Hut! Ugh, that was horrible!"
He sits down in one of the chairs, still holding his head.
Nothing further of note can be found in the room after a quick survey. Eyes however inevitably turn to the outside.
If orienting oneself with the doors to the outside as South, one can see a path of crushed white stone encircling the gazebo, with numerous paths of the same substance branching off.
To the East, a towering hedge obstructs the view of what lays behind, a path passing to each side.
To the South, an area of weeds and brambles lay beside a thick copse of trees, with white paths also tracing it's perimeter.
To the West, a large forest of what appears to be tropical sits ominously. One path enters this forest further up it's Northern edge.
To the North, a thick collection of coniferous trees lies, it's interior impenetrable, but for a single pathway visible from the gazebo.
As the survey of the surroundings is made, a soft rain begins to fall from the sky.
"Rain in a painted world... Hope it's not as fake as it looks" Samuel mutters after having a bad time on the teleportaion process. His hand instinctively checks the waterproofing on his powder horn.
Adjusting his musket strap, Samuel keeps his attention on the North path, where the dense coniferous trees loom ominously "Tell me a fool, but that one looks like the more familiar to me and just for that I would chose it to go forward."
The Taldan closes in and inspects the area.
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Letitia turns her nose up at the rain. Water that falls out of the sky as a liquid was something she still didn't fully trust.
"Four paths," she says with uncertainty. "The Artrosia configuration provided three paths and three tests. Possibly because of the association with the Three Who Watch, I would guess. Hopefully if this garden tests us as well, it will also provide the clues to navigate the Thrice Tenth Kingdom. If this is indeed where we are."
She moves next to Samuel. "I see nothing foolish about choosing that path over any other. There are no apparent signs that one path is the correct one."
Llewellyn pointed out, "We had to explore all paths previously, I don't see why this would be any different. We have I think insufficient cause to choose one way over another, so if Mr Samuel has a gut feeling I'm willing to trust it."
The party ventures forth onto the white stone path passing by a number of long planters, filled with naught but dirt and weeds, and walk up to the grove of coniferous trees. A twisting , disused trail winds its way into the depths of the wood. The rain continues to fall in a fine drizzle, but within the grove only a few drips penetrate the dense canopy.
Samuel keeps his musket ready as the group moves through the grove. The sparse rain reaching through the canopy taps against the musket barrel like a faint, irregular heartbeat "At least it's dry enough to keep the powder safe. Could almost call it a courtesy"
His eyes sweep the path ahead, searching for any signs of danger or passage "A quiet place like this always seems eager to prove it's hiding something..."
He nods at Llewellyn and Letitia "Gut feelings can lead you into trouble... or through it. Let's hope this one does the latter"
"I would venture that guessing randomly would have the same results," Letitia says dryly, which is the exact opposite of what is happening to her hair. The wet precipitation annoys her to the point that she activates her hyperboreal robe to spread an unearthly chill across her body. She shakes the sudden icy rime from her skin, hair, and clothes before continuing with the group.
Her familiar Laslo leaves her shoulder once it becomes too cold for him, but he circles close overhead to help keep watch for dangers as they travel on the path.
As peaceful as this wood seemed so far, Llewellyn had a feeling in his bones that is was only a matter of time before something objected to their passage. Determined not to let whatever was out there get the drop on them, he hummed a focusing spell.
Venturing further down the path, the party turn a gentle corner of the path and a clearing is revealed at the center of the grove.
However, everyone turns as one at the rustling sound behind time, seeing a number of trees shuffle onto the path, barring the way back. Laslo flies between branches to alight upon a branch of one of the recently moving trees, giving a soft hoot as he does so.
"It's the trees themselves," Letitia says once she notices them closing up the path behind their progress. She stops the deadly cold from her robe and calls Lazlo back to her shoulder.
The thinks on what kind of phenomenon could cause the trees to move like that.
"Wait the trees moved?!" muttered Llewellyn sounding alarmed, "That's... Not normal!"
Letitia knows of several enchantments that could manifest such behavior, but given the environment she concludes that there may be a Treant living within this grove of trees. They have the ability to animate trees to do their bidding.
She recall a passage from Eowynn Farrah's Flora and Fauna of Golarion :
Treants are guardians of the forest and speakers for the trees. As long-lived as the forests themselves, and seeing themselves as parents and shepherds rather than gardeners, treants are slow and methodical in most things but terrifying when forced to fight in defense of their flock. Though they rarely seek out the companionship of the short-lived races, and have an inherent distrust of change, they have been known to tolerate those who seek to learn from their long, rambling monologues, especially if the pupils express a desire to help protect the wildlands. Yet against those who would threaten the forest, especially loggers who seek to harvest wood for lumber or those who try to clearcut a section of forest in order to build a fort or establish a town, the treants’ wrath is swift and devastating. They are particularly gifted at tearing down what others build—a trait that serves angry treants well.
Treants are primarily solitary creatures, with a given individual sometimes responsible for an entire forest, but they occasionally come together in small groups called groves to share news and reproduce. In times of grave danger, all of the groves in a region may gather for a great months-long meeting called a moot, but such events are exceedingly rare, and millennia may go by between them.
The typical treant is 30 feet tall, with a trunk 2 feet in diameter, and weighs 4,500 pounds. Treants tend to resemble the species of trees most common in their woodland territories.
Llewellyn recalls a lecture he one received from an elderly Varisian attached to the travelling troupe he once lived with. The old told a tale about living trees called Treants that guarded sacred groves. The one thing that stuck was that they could bring other trees to life to do their bidding!
"Not normal, no," Letitia answers, her voice on edge but not panicking. "This forest is likely guarded by a treant, a tree-like being that, hopefully, can be reasoned with. At least, they do not crave blood like the witch tree did."
She switches to Sylvan and calls out.
"Forest guardian! We ask that you accept our presence in your forest, as we seek knowledge and have no intention of cutting any of your trees. Will you make yourself known to us?"
"A moving tree?" Samuel raises an eyebrow but waits to hear what comes out of Letitia's attempt of conversation "Should it be able also to talk, maybe we can find out where the heck the hut has taken us"
A tree, very unlike the others in the grove, a sickly, overgrown ash, with tangled drooping branches and malignant knots disfiguring it's trunk, lurches out from behind a screen of tall pine trees.
It 'stomps' out into the middle of the clearing, swinging it branches around wildly, then advances threateningly towards the party.
"Who are you to trespass here! There is no knowledge here! You speak of cutting! How dare you? Who are you!? "
It 'speaks', a noise that is obviously speech, but made up of the clash of branches and the susurration of leaves.
The treant is very agitated.
The treant's manner and actions and appearance signify significant signs of mental illness
The treant's manner and actions appear to be mostly involuntary but also an attempt to mask the presence of significant mental illness
Letitia is initially taken aback by the treant's aggression, and opens her mouth to retort. However, she notices the signs of mental illness in it so she changes tactics.
"The treant is afflicted," she tells her companions. "A sickness of the mind, it would seem, though I am unaware of how a being like this could come to such a state. We may not need to fight it if we can get through its madness."
"I am Letitia, and I said there would be no cutting. And treants are known far and wide for their knowledge and wisdom. Are you not a treant?"
Callix watches, unable to understand Sylvan, but certainly feeling the threat. She blinks at Letitia's comment, then suggests, "Could be from a toxin... a lot of toxin... though...do they eat? Root? I have no idea how it would have happened, but it could have been deliberate."
Nodding a Callix he whispered "Sounds aggressive..." In a normal voice he added, "I wonder if we can calm it down somehow? Letitia maybe you can try translating for me?"
Putting on his stage voice and a winning smile, with his hands far from the pommel of his sword, Llewellyn tries to act as friendly and as can be as he calls out, "I am Llewellyn and these are my friends, we come seeking the Mother of Witches."
Samuel steps slightly closer to Letitia, lowering his voice so only the group can hear "Maybe we can play along. Tell it we are caretakers, travelers sworn to protect this forest, and that we're here to aid it. That might calm it enough for us to get some answers, or avoid becoming mulch"
Straightening, Samuel lets his musket hang by its strap and steps forward, his tone calm but projecting confidence and starts talking his poor Sylvan.
"Great guardian of the woods, hear my words. I am Samuel Soulkeeper, a High Sentinel of the Border Woods, far from my homeland of Taldor. My companions and I are protectors, not trespassers.
We seek no harm to these woods or to you. Instead, we ask for guidance. The Mother of Witches has brought us here, and her path is clouded in mystery. We know that you stand as a mighty sentinel, warding these lands. Perhaps we can aid you, as one guardian to another, in resolving the affliction that troubles you."
"Tell us, noble one, who has wronged you? What afflicts your mighty branches? Perhaps we can assist in setting things right."
If a tree can look puzzled, the treant does a very good job as Llewellyn speaks to her. As it's comprehension of his words is non-existent, it begins to get agitated, branches and roots flailing about.
When Samuel begins to speak, it stills, leaning towards him as if it may topple.
When he finishes, the tree shakes itself a bit, raining leaves to the ground, "Ah, you're slaves to the Witch-B#@++ as well! Abandoned here you are with me! With poor soil and poor light....for so long....so long..." it's last words are mere whispers, and you can feel the despair, despite it's tree-ish nature.
Letitia quickly translates and then adds, "it is as I suspected; the treant is no friend of Baba Yaga. Be careful when you address it. Let us focus on its plight, since this place is not good for a tree that relies on real sunlight."
"That is most unfortunate. Are there no ways out of here? We seek a way out ourselves. Perhaps we could find freedom together."
sickness of the mind or toxin would require healing not that I'm sure it would work... If its sunlight and poor soil, one would figure it could move... A corruption similar to necromancy can kill lands magically, curses and blights that kill plant life She speaks bluntly and plainly, having been listening and watching, Having learned to let others talk. Nothing seems to phase her after everything they've seen thus far a talking tree was nothing.
She walks and stops, looking towards the Treant, Speaking fluent Sylvan like its second nature, She untucks a small silver sigil of a moon from under her armor i am Ashling, an Ashavan. Has the soil and light always been so poor?
"Have you not tried to just exit? What lays just to the north? And the other paths further south?" Samuel tries to give the tree hopes the group can heal him despite he has no idea how "There are powerful among us that can revert whatever curse has fallen on this land, but we will need your help"
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With a very human-like movement of it's trunk and branches, the treant's 'shoulders' seem to slump as it listens to Letitia, Ashling and Samuel.
"No way out...no exit...at least for me!" it says, then stomps away toward the far edge of the clearing. The trees behind stop moving, and in two and threes the trees move out its way.
After about 15 feet, the treant stops then bangs it's branches against a wall that appears to be hidden by an illusion of a forest continuing into the distance. Each blow caused the illusion to ripple, revealing a rough , brick wall, curving off to the left and right.
Turning back, the treant says, "This is a circular prison, wrought by the Witch-B!+~!! And now you are trapped, with me!"
Letitia's eyes go wide at the blows against the illusory wall. "I see," she says after a moment. Then to her companions, she says, "We must find a way out of this forest. Perhaps then we'll find a way to help this treant."
Llewellyn nods at Letitia's words and suggests "Tell it, we'll explore the area to try and find a way out for it and us. Perhaps we should see what is to the south?"
That said, Llewellyn considers if he's ever heard songs or stories of anything like this prison before.
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Letitia pauses before relaying Llewellyn's message to the tree. She takes a look up at the pale imitation sun throwing enough light for sustenance but fake enough to drive the treant to madness.
She looks uncertain. "Perhaps we should not give the creature false hope. If we cannot succeed in our promise, that hope could be a greater curse than its current madness."
An icy dread creeps through her stomach. Doubt and uncertainty fill Letitia as she considers another being suffering due to the works of Baba Yaga. She had been raised by her mother with her mother's ambitions, and those placed an unhealthy hope in the being she calls Grandmother. In the anticipation of Elvanna's removal as queen, Baroness Helka had been maneuvering herself as an ideal replacement. In Letitia's exile, she again had placed all her hopes in Baba Yaga removing Elvanna and lifting her decree of death. In Letitia's eyes, she had long been a savior. But again, her cruelty was laid bare.
I should temper my expectations, she resolves.
Letitia stirs out of her reverie. "South. That is fine."
"If we may have your leave, we will continue to test the confines of this prison. Until we meet again, farewell."
Samuel exhales sharply, shaking his head "Another prison" he mutters bitterly "This damned place won't hold us either"
He turns to the group, gesturing toward the exposed wall "If this is a circle, there might be a flaw somewhere. I say we follow the edge, starting east and moving south as you say"
Musket ready, he takes the first step, motioning for the others to follow "Eyes open. Let's move"
Callix takes a pull from her aleskin, "Agreed... and it might help if one of us tried to study whatever magics may lay about - as there may be a clue there - or a knot to untie....something that I don't imagine our rotting friend is able to do."
Letitia tries to move past her current misgivings and focus on the task at hand. Samuel's suggestion about following the edge of this realm made sense to her.
"I agree as well, Samuel. Sorry, Llewellyn, but I believe Samuel's plan to skirt the edge may be more fruitful. If we walk the circumference, we will eventually reach the south anyway."
Turning to Callix, she says, "We are most certainly still in the Hut, if that's of any comfort to you. I cannot imagine Grandmother would not have a means of exiting this place. We must simply find it."
Llewellyn shrugged, "If the area truly is circular as has been suggested then the result will be the same."
The treant remains tilted against the unyeilding wall and the illusion wrought there, branches pressing against the unending vista of a temperate forest. In two's and three's the trees part and move aside along the wall.
All that can be heard from the Treant is a few muttered phrases, "Trapped....Alone...No escape...For you or me...Forever..."
Walking along side the illusion-bound wall is disconcerting. Sometimes the perspective is awry and it feels like one is falling into or out of the illusionary forest, but a quick touch of the wall reveals the rough brick and the disorientation disappears.
Soon, the forest parts to reveal the overground grass of the rest of the 'garden". Following the wall, you can see finally beyond the large hedge that lay to the East of the gazebo.
Two greenhouses, their glass grimy and dirty, stand at the fore. Beyond, a wide area where a variety of plants, from mundane shrubs to aromatic herbs to colorful exotic flowers ,grow in unkempt profusion. To the east of the garden, five fenced enclosures hold more greenery. A small woodshed sits to the southwest.
Map updated :Gabebo_garden
Letitia observes the greenhouses and the garden with interest. Her skill in alchemy and potion-making has given her a wide knowledge in the powers of roots, leaves, and flowers of any number of plants.
"Well, if the treant's lament proves true and we are trapped for a time, I should be able to make use of this garden."
She takes a step towards the first greenhouse, hoping to peer through the grimy windows.
Samuel surveys the greenhouses and the unkempt garden beyond. He spares a glance toward the treant, his expression grim "If we're truly stuck here, let's make sure we understand what this place holds. It might provide answers, or an edge"
Turning to the others, Samuel keeps his musket at the ready, his eyes scanning the surroundings "I'll keep watch while you investigate those plants. Maybe we at least found some useful food for cooking in that cauldron of yours"
When they were far enough away from the Treant to be able to talk privately, Llewellyn remarked "Leaving it stuck there alone inside an illusion of a forest seems extremely cruel. I can only assume it annoyed your 'grandmother' somehow." Llewellyn's distaste for Baba Yaga was palpable in the way he spoke.
Sorry about that!
While you've come across many tales of prisons in your careers, both grim and fanciful, you've never heard of one that matches what you've seen so far here.
From what you can see from your vantage point and through the grimy window of the greenhouse, there are a few hundred gold's worth of herbs and other exotic plants ready for harvest.
The greenhouse appears to be filled with a number of overgrown planters.
As you look over the herb garden, the soft drizzle slowly slows and then stops, leaving all of the leaves and plants dripping moisture.
"It should come as no surprise that Baba Yaga's gardens are full of treasures," Letitia comments. "Even overgrown as they are, the harvest of these gardens would be quite valuable. Once we find our way out of here, we should consider coming back to gather some of these plants. I could create more potions and alchemical concoctions with them for future use."
As Letitia acquires a feel for how much useful plants are available, Samuel keeps watch...
All seems peaceful as the recent rainfall drips from the leaves of the garden. However, as your gaze passes the second fenced enclosure a puff of white rises up from the wild accumulation of foliage there.
"Anything in there Samuel?" asked Llewellyn.
"Not sure" musses Samuel looking at the second fenced enclosure and pointing there with his musket "But I would swear I saw something white puffing out there. Maybe we should approach to investigate"
The High Sentinel does not wait more, he instinctively starts moving towards the place where he saw something trying to find out what it was.
"Be careful," Letitia says, hanging back and decidedly not approaching. Instead, she activates her Flight hex and rises off the ground to get a better view of whatever it is that Samuel spotted.