Myhm nods in understanding that the tree needs water and is ready to wet the timber down... his way.
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"Yes your great greeness I believe my friend here has a point for I have some small knowledge of your condition as I have, on occasion, found myself in the same state. I could offer up any number of fowl tasteing remedies given to me by a number of barkeeps and shaman types I do believe that the consumption of large quantities of fresh water to be the most.....how would you say ..... well most desireable way to rid yourself of the condition."
It takes more than a few words, and a fair amount of "watering" to sober up the treant enough to have a useful conversation. Ten minutes later he's sitting on the banks of the creek, his rootlike feet planted in the water, shedding tears for the tragedy that has befallen his forest.
He says, gesturing off into the forest. "I am called Vinroot." He says, straightening up a little. "A treant standin’ in this forest far longer than any other I be. I'm sorry for earlier. I'm normally a peaceful sort. As peaceful as the others." He gestures to the others with a sigh, then rouses once again to anger.
"It's those brambly spriggans fault! Runty little burrs! A blight on the land, they be! Their presence means the Fellnight fey broke free o’ the faengard barrin’ ’em from other planes. And now they're makin the Feralwood a downright unpleasant place!"
Troxell bows low and respectfully to the treant as he introduces himself, "I am Troxell, a druid still learning the wonders of this forest, and these are my companions." After giving Vinroot a quick introduction to the other members of the party, Troxell gets down to business, "We are attempting to restore the balance of the forest and fix the barriers keeping the fey in them check, so any sort of aid or lore you can provide us would be most helpful. We were on our way to speak to the druid Fire Tender before we ran into you."
"Tell us more about the Fellnight Fey? What do you know about their kind?"
"The Fellnight come from a prison-realm guarded by mystic wardstones called the faengard. The First World fey created the faengard ta lock away one o’ their own — an evil sidhe named Prince Rowan who had been practicin forbidden magics. I don’t know much 'bout the barriers, but if ’n the faengard be broken, I'd think only one o’ the elder fey would know how ta mend it." He pauses, then grumbles, "Or maybe Fire Tender... but I don't trust that one! There's a reason he's called that, and many trees have fallen to his flames!"
"Could you show us the way to an elder fey? Or, if not, could you show us to the Fire Tender? We need to find someway to stop all this."
"I would also like to know more about how and why Fire Tender was burning down trees. Do you know this for a fact?"
"I... have no idea how to find and elder fey. Never leave the first world, and more likely would ignore or murder ye. Capricious sort. And powerful." The treant sighs. "Suppose it'll have ta be the Fire Tender."
To Troxell, he shrugs. "The trees talk. Some say he burns the forest to keep it from overgrowin the land, but I don't know... seems harsh, even fer a druid."
"Thank you for your wisdom. If don't mind a word of advice, you should hide yourself from the spriggans until this over. They are all quite destructive and mad as I am sure you know."
"Thank you big fella. We will do our best to find the Tender and then try to stop the madness in the forest."
Vinroot nods and looks to the trees for a few long minutes. Eventually, he turns back and begins to stand back upright. "I will lead you safely there."
A short time later he has brought you to a clearing. Sunlight filters down, burning away the mist to illuminate a perfectly round hill dotted with fairy-cap mushrooms. Nearby, a small creek slowly trickles through a pond buffered by outcroppings of large black rock. The air hangs still, and even the sounds of forest animals seem absent.
"There is his cabin." The treant says, pointing with thickly gnarled finger-branch. "I will not stay, but I wish you well." Turning, he lumbers off into the forest.
No cabin can be seen, but the dryads did say the place was concealed behind powerful illusions.
"Thank you Vinroot, we'll take it from here." Troxell says to the Treant as he lumbers off. Then, remembering the Dryad's gift, Troxell pulls out the flower given to them and tosses the dust at the most likely spot for the cabin.
Teena waits, not knowing what to expect when the illusion was revealed to them. "Be awares. He might not take kindly to us disturbing him."
The dryad's dust causes a sort patch of air to waver and change as the illusion in the area is pierced. Through the hole in the air you see a simple cabin atop the mound.
As you approach the true vision of the Fire Tender's home, a figure emerges from the structure. He wears simple robes, is of average height, has a somewhat gangly build, and appears to be about thirty years old. All normal description ends there. His hair is shaggy, and red like the flames of a fire, his skin almost scarlet, and his eyes, even at a distance gleam like rubies.
He looks over your group with a curious gaze, then notices the damaged illusion.
"Oh, sugarsticks! That wasn't easy to create."
"I suppose you are the Fire Tender? We need your help. If you've not noticed the fey have went all crazy recently...we've got spriggans attacking everything here, where they aren't supposed to be. We were told you might know something about the elder fey that might help us out a stop to the craziness."
"Yes, our apologies for damaging your disguise, but our need is urgent. These fey are a threat to entire balance of the Feralwood and we require your counsel to stop them."
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"Please allow for the disreguard of of manners for my friends here my fine sir but we are in a bit of haste from afor mentioned circumstances. My name is Shanee and these are my companions and we are in need of some advice if it pleases you."
Shanee gives a respectful bow.
"It seems as though something called the Faengard has let out another something called a Fellnight."
"Fire Tender? Yes, that's me." The man, or whatever he is, replies. He seems almost shy in his response, but perks up in alarm at the mention of trouble with the fey. Stepping out from porch of his cabin he looks to the mists and up at the sky. "A spriggan army? It can't be..."
When Shane speaks of the Faengard his looks of alarm fades slightly, replaced with one of surprise, then one of relief. "Oh! Well, that explains everything. Or most everything. The Faengard is a ward set by Elder Fey thousands of years ago. It is, er was, maintained by wardstones in the Feralwood. Someone must have tampered with them and opened the way into the Fellnight Realm."
His eyes per of into the forest in a thousand yard stare. "I will commune with nature and see what can be done."
With an exaggerated blink he turns back to your group with a goofy smile and gestures into the cabin. "It will take some time. Would you like to come inside to rest? Maybe have some gingerbread cookies and tea?"
If the cold rider is somehow responsible for this, we have made a grave error in letting her live.
"I am also a druid of some skill, would you like me to accompany you? I may be of some assistance." Troxell offers as he subtly examines the man for signs of trustworthiness.
Teena nods with the others, but she isn't sure if she wanted to sample any food or drink from this creature. Nothing in this land has done anything to inspire any sort of confidence in her mind, at least as of yet.
To Shane, the man gives an uncertain smile. "I have other names, but here I am called the Fire Tender. It was a name given to me by the lizardfolk of Feralwood, and I've grown to accept it." He looks from Shane to Teena. "The two of you are Aer Lords, are you not?" He asks, pronouncing the words as a native of Kragis Aer would.
To Troxell he simply nods. "It is a spell that I need no assistance with, but as a brother of nature I would welcome the company."
He half-turns, about to step back into the cabin, but his gaze stops on Myhm, rising to meet the giant man's eyes. "You... aren't you one of Baron Dohari's men? Are you traveling on his behalf?"
Teena takes a half step backwards. "How do you know anything out me? Assuming what you say is true, which I most certainly am not," she growls, her hackles rising.
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"I will only speak for myself and I can understand your thinking that I was an Aer Lord for I did reside in Kragis Aer for the most of my life. I am not air touched myself. While I do have some small amount of magical skill mine is Bardic in nature much to the disapointment to my father I do believe."
"Yes, I must also admit curiosity about how you have become so knowledgeable about my companions' potential origins, especially living a fair distance away from the town."
"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to offend you." The man says, raising his hands to calm Teena. "I have not always lived within the Feralwood. I have met Aer Lords before, and recognize the blood. Even if you do not, or if it is diffused by other planar heritage." He adds to Shane.
"your information seems correct. But you do have us at a disadvantage, since we don't much about you at all. So you could help us get back to our homeland, then? We have a couple stops to make before we can leave, but that is our long term goal."
Troxell waits until Fire Tender answers Teena's question before saying,"Fair enough. Since it would appear that time is somewhat in short supply, we should not delay you in casting your spell."
The Fire Tender gives a guilty shrug to Teena. "I might be able to help you beyond the matters of the Feralwood, but I cannot promise anything before consulting the powers of nature. A balance must be maintained, and your part has yet to be weighed."
After supplying some refreshments and snacks, the strange man leads Troxell away, leaving the rest of the party to wait at the simple cabin.
***
Troxell is lead to a bubbling pool at the bottom of the hill, concealed behind rocks and trees. Stepping into the pool, he holds up a warning hand. "I can share this experience, but before you join me, you should know that this is a geothermal spring, and quite hot. You should protect yourself to endure it, or allow me to do so for you."
Teena waits with the rest of the group, not wanting to look around the unknown land too much. "Do you think Troxell is alright? I don't trust anyone in this land...the Fire Tender seems okay, but I'm not sure."
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"Trust is a hard thing to come by these days I think. There seem to be many who are not all they seem in these parts but this Fire Tender guy is quite the enigma. Most people around here seem to fear him but he seems to me to be a most hospitable sort even though we destroyed the spell concealing his home."
"Yes, I can protect myself from fire if that's what you suggest. Before we begin, might I ask what is the purpose of this spell exactly?" Troxell inquires with some apprehension, then after a moment of consideration, he asks, "Would taking the form of a fire elemental interfere with the spell? Perhaps it's not the best idea being immersed in water in that form, however."
"The purpose?" The Fire Tender replies. "Well... I would like to find out what is going on in this region of the Feralwood, if the Wardstones have indeed been tampered with, who might have done so, then hopefully gain some answers about how to fix that problem. I'd also like to see if you and your companions are significant in some unforeseen way. You are no ordinary travelers. So, I am performing a ritual to commune with nature. I'll be directing a few questions to the Shalm as well. Are there any questions you have that I could address?"
At the mention of conducting the ritual in the form of an elemental he chuckles. "I'm not sure you could "stand" in the water here in that form, so it would limit your participation."
The other druid nods thoughtfully, and returns to his true humanoid form, "Very well, give me a moment to place a protective spell on myself and I'll be ready to join you."
He then casts Communal Resist Energy on himself against fire, but does not share the effect in order to provide long lasting protection. "Ready. I have the dark suspicion that a Cold Rider from the world of the fey is somehow involved with this, if you could ask about that I would be grateful."
Troxell knows that The Shalm is another name for Obad-Hai, the god of Nature, Woodlands, Hunting, and Beasts. He is sometimes worshiped by druids.
"I would also like to know the location and significance of Myhm's brother, Brue, also known as Auchs. Our search for him and his companions brought out party together and I believe he is involved with the fate of these lands."
The Fire Tender listens to Troxell's questions, then responds with a clarification of the limits of his magic.
"Communing with nature has both advantages and disadvantages. I can divine information on three subjects - terrain, plants, water, people, general animal population, woodland creatures, powerful unnatural creatures, or even the general state of things in the region, but it is limited in distance to perhaps a day's walk from here. I plan to ask about the Waystones, and Tenzekil. That leaves a third subject for you to consider. And keep in mind, if a subject is not local, I can learn nothing."
Letting that sink in a moment, he continues. "Now The Shalm, however, has a much further reach, but only responds with simple yes and no answers. So, in order to prevent the waste of a good question let me ask a few things before we begin."
"Do you have a name for this Cold Rider?"
"Do you have reason to believe the Cold Rider is nearby?"
"Is your companion's brother, Auchs, nearby?"
"I hope Troxell is alright out there.," Teena thinks out loud as she waits for her friend to return.
"The answer to all of those questions is no." Troxell replies, frowning slightly for whatever reason, "Although you could perhaps ask if the Marcaigh Fuar are involved in some manner."
The Fire Tender nods at Troxell's request and begins the ritual of communing. Dipping his hand in the scalding water, he tosses it aloft, scattering mist among the air and rocks. Whispering in the secret tongue of druids, the Fire Tender speaks three words.
"Faengard..."
"Tenzekil..."
"Fellnight..."
A cool wind stirs leaves nearby, spreading away like an invisible wave among the plants.
As the effect vanishes into the forest the Fire Tender plops down on a rock and smiles at Troxell. "We should have answers in a few minutes. Would you like some fire-roasted nuts?" Speaking such, he produces a handful from a small satchel he carries and begins munching away. As he's finishing a third handful the wind returns...
Troxell suddenly finds himself among thick mists, standing at the edge of a pool fed by a rushing waterfall. Something.. a noise, or feeling, draws his eyes to the center of the pool. Though he cannot see it, he knows a cave lies hidden there, with stones that do not belong.
"The locals refer to this place as Dead Man’s Drop," the Fire Tender says, his voice barely a whisper in Troxell's ear, "it was named after a bandit captain who leapt to his death trying to escape justice some 30 years ago. The wardstones are here."
The vision changes, showing a young man that Troxell recognizes as Tenzekil, though he seems haggard, and his hair has turned from blonde to white. He kneels among an army of fellnight spriggans and before him stands the witch Hedera.
"Prince Rowan is displeased. Your pathetic actions at the wedding were rash, ill-timed, and have forewarned those who would stand against his army. They will seek to restore the Faengard before the full might of the Fellnight descends upon them. They must not succeed..."
Once more the vision changes, and this time he finds himself within a copse of trees, standing atop a small hillock ringed with pale white mushrooms. The nearby trees seem to loom toward the hillock, shading it.
"This is a faery ring." The Fire Tender whispers again. "And the entrance to the Fellnight Realm from our world."
Troxells view swings away from the hillock and looks down upon an army of spriggans camped at the foot of the hill amid splintered and burned trees.
As the visions fade, Troxell finds himself back at the spring, standing with the Fire Tender.
"Hmm.." He purses his lips in concern. "Sugarsticks and meatballs. That is... not good. Let us see what wisdom the Shalm can offer."
The man produces a pestle and mortar from his satchel, places some herbs within, and crushes them into a fine substance. Taking a dried sprig of holly, he sets it alight with the tip of his finger and places the small burning brand within the mortar, creating a strong incense. Dipping his hands once more in the spring, he casts a spell to bless the water, then anoints his forehead and Troxells with it.
"Now we can both ask questions of the Shalm and witness his answers, though I must ask the first one."
Closing his eyes, he does so.
"Great and wise one, would your will be served by aiding these visitors to my home?"
A moment passes, then a voice replies, like a whisper of burning rocks.
Damn it all, the Cold Rider was right!!!
The druid seems shocked and displeased by the vision, delaying his questions for a few moments.
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"I can see you are conflicted about what questions to ask." The Fire Tender says as Troxell goes silent. "Since this particular spell is not a druid secret, let us summon your companions."
***
Those loitering about the cabin notice a white rabbit scamper into the area. "The master desires your company!" It says before turning and hopping back in the direction Troxell and The Fire Tender went earlier.
***
Once the rest of the group has arrived, you are all given a short summary of the knowledge gained through nature, and offered the chance to ask simple yes and no questions of the Shalm.
Myhm can't help but flick his eyes towards the Fire Tender every few moments when his nose would twitch. Something in the air, about this man... ::another look:: Something familiar like the taste of red, or the smell of a smooth surface. Fire... Seeds?...Hmm? Stupid, no... It was all lost upon him and faint like Brue's chuckle, where Myhm had left him atop fortress. Myhm suddenly blurts out, "Is Dovan in Marascar?!", quickly about to follow with another before the answer is heard unless stopped by someone, "Is- "
"Is Dovan in Marascar?!"
Before he can get out another question an answer comes to Troxell.
Troxell nods his head to indicate the answer to Myhm's question, then asks, "Is Hedera working with forces responsible for the spriggan invasion? Is one of the Marcaigh Fuar nearby? Is the Fellnight Queen on this plane?"
"Is Hedera working with forces responsible for the spriggan invasion?"
"Is one of the Marcaigh Fuar nearby?"
"Is the Fellnight Queen on this plane?"
"Is the Fellnight Prince on this plane?"