Healaugh feels his logical mind overcome by primal terror at the sight of the walking tree waving its skeletal branches, slick with gore.
... and slumps to the ground, so overcome with terror that he stops breathing.
Greylan emerges from the trees and cries "Healaugh!" and moves towards the stricken halfling and takes a potion out of his bag.
Darvyl, seeing that the group needs to focus on the night twist, aims at the remaining verbeeg fighting Ddraig, narrowly missing the latter.
Healaugh drops further into unconsciousness as his grip on life fades.
Roll to Stay Standing (1d20-3=16)
Ddraig then steps forward ...
... and again ...
... and into R13.
"Your time has come, foul one" growled Ddraig
Radiant Smite on V1 (1d20+9=29, 2d8+6=13)
"May the gods have mercy on your spirit."
Ddraig steps up to the verbeeg and with spectacular calm, cuts down the ogre-kin.
Seeing the plight of his fellow party members, Ynyr throws some healing dust towards Nechtan. Then, pulling out a rod, he points it at the tree...
"Now, this might just see you off, might it not?"
Nechtan can spend a healing surge with extra healing for Nectan (1d6=4)
Lifetap vs. reflex vs. the tree. (on miss, will do half damage) (1d20+4=21, 2d10+3=13)
Ynyr's strike hits the night twist right in the... bark and it reels. Healaugh feels a surge of life force suffuse him.
Newly invigorated Nechtan moves in to attack the last foe.
Thanks to Ynyr's swift action, Healaugh's eyes open to be confronted by the sight of Greylan anxiously trying to force some liquid down his throat.
"Reet lad, thanks our Greylan, reckon I can drink this mesen now. See if tha canst find way of destroying yon bunch of twigs."
Nechtan gets to work with a passion, slicing off bark with abandon. The eerie tree retaliates, smashing Nechtan with its branches. Greylan hands Healaugh the potion and fires a magical missile at the faerie plant, singeing its twigs.
Now that the flying opponent is destroyed, Darvyl stows his bow, draws his shortsword and, with a whoop, charges in against the tree. His failure to connect does not dampen his enthusiasm.
Healaugh chugs back the healing potion and scrambles to his feet. Pointing his wand firmly at the tree, he sends a burst of arcane power towards it, hoping to confuse the rambling log into thinking that Ddraig hit it.
Misdirected Mark v Tree of doom (Ref) (1d20 6=22, 1d8 5=8).
Ddraig strode forward again and swung his sword at the twig of terror:
Paladin's Judgment against the Night Twist (1d20+9=22, 3d8+5=19)
As a minor action, Ddraig then spews acid on the tree:
Dragon Breath (v Ref) against Night Twist (1d20+7=9, 1d6+1=2)
Valiant Strike against Night Twist (including +4 damage for Divine Strength) (1d20+10=28, 1d8+9=14)
"You should have remained inanimate, for now I will carve a boat from your trunk."
Although Ddraig's initial attack just hits hedgerow, and his acid breath is likewise soaked up by the bushes, his final swing strikes true and fells the vile plant.
It crashes to the ground like so much lumber. Healaugh's lantern light shows a grim scene of carnage.
Healaugh draws a deep breath.
"Reckon we need to have look around and then find somewhere else to camp. Our Nechtan's not in a good way."
He glances at his battered companions. "Not sure any of us are. We'll have a bit of a singsong when we camp for night. That'll raise spirits."
Holding his lantern high, he surveys the horrid scene before him.
Nechtan nods.
"Yes, now that would be good, would it not? Do you think we can find a place with fewer bodies?" Winces inwardly at the thought of the upcoming hurdy-gurdy recital, but Healaugh is his friend) "And will your entertaining not entertain us to a good sleep don't you think?" He adds chivalrously.
"Aye. That it will. Take our minds of unpleasantness. Know some grand folk songs with lots of verses and chorus tha can all join in."
Holding up the lantern he looks with reluctance at the unpleasantness.
"Yes, let's get away from those . . . things."
Healaugh sees that pool is surrounded by the bodies of people and animals (both wild and domestic). The verbeeg also seem to have had a small smoking oven for cooking here as well.
"No sense in this. Rank slaughter for fun I'm thinking." The halfling chokes back his disgust, but moves reluctantly closer to the bodies to see if anyone is by any chance still alive.
Everyone is very much dead. Most are without a mark on them, and appear to have starved to death.
"Ee now. That's reet strange... Not likely villagers would starve in two days like. Summat's very wrong here."
Or pined to death of misery. Some have been attacked like the bodies you saw before, but otherwise most are lying unmarked.
"In all excitement, not so sure we found source of sad music. Owd bugger weren't singing and never heard owt from big twig."
He looks back at his companions.
"Best be sleeping on things. Blocked ears mind. Best not leave owt to chance."
"Block earrs aforre hurrdy-gurrdy?"
"Don't be daft Nechtan. Hurdy-Gurdy's grand music. Tha'll not hear better."
Nechtan nods. "Agrreed. Not hearr, betterr."
"Best be grateful I gave up trombone then."
"You know, I think it may be the tree that was causing this nastiness here do you know? It sort of sends out spasms of sadness and other bad feelings. Do you think it may be that these people here all died of sadnesses, that were radiated from the night twist? Like a big broken heart you know?"
At his last comment, Ynyr looks thoughtful, he seems to be looking inwardly to some source of personal broken heartedness.
"Now, and I think we should be hearing from you music playing now, how would that be? We need our minds taking off any present sadness and some decent rest wouldn't you say?"
"Odd thing for tree to do. Where do they come from Ynyr?"
He pats his old friend reassuringly on the waist. "Never fret our Ynyr. Tha'll not succomb as long as I'm here to sing to tha."
Hoping that his banter with Healaugh has distracted his companions from the carnage around them, Nechtan suggests, "Back to yon clanhold for rresting?"
"Aye. Nowt we can do for poor souls here. No point in staying in open when there's roofs to be had."
The group head back to the village through the night, and look for somewhere to rest. They have a lot of choice, of course as the village is abandoned.
Their sleep is an uneasy one, filled with images of carnage and the memories of fighting the mystical foes they have vanquished.
You awake to a bright dawn. Day has come.
"Let's be taking a look around village, then back to that grove. Must be clues somewhere."
The group search the village but find nothing else of note, besides what they have already found.
The man in the cell is still there, and you can see by the light of day that he has the look of one used to imbibing much alcohol. He is sound asleep now.