As the plant creatures emerge with hostilities, Beorae instinctively reacts, trying to forestall as many of the new enemies as possible while giving the gnomes a route of escape. She focuses on a spot of earth a bit behind the enemy lines and roots and vines spring from the ground in a large radius.
Beorae points at the left-most creature and gives Shark the command to attack. The tiger
Meanwhile, Shark takes off a full sprint at lunges directly at the left-most creature with his claws outstretched.
“Quick, fall back to us!” Beorae shouts at the gnomes, hoping that they see the sense in meeting numbers with numbers.
The wide area of twisting roots and vines ensnare nearly half of the plant people. Themp holds his bowstring taut, should any of the unentangled plant people try to rush his companions.
The gnomish female leader’s eyes widen when she sees the giant of a man and the grey cat rush in. One of the males braces his stick into the ground against the charging tiger and cringes for the expected collision. When he opens his eyes and sees the tiger passed and reducing the fungus creature to shredded plant matter, he cheers and gestures to his fellow gnomes to fall back to the tall folk.
Olp follows Nme’an’s lead and carefully advances.
Realizing there is no escape from combat now, Themp lets loose his arrow at the closest of the spear-wielding foes.
The gnomes turn, and with surprising speed weave their way through the jungle floor and regroup near the strange explorers, to which the plant people begin tittering and clicking madly. The last of the gnomes to retreat has her feet swept out from under her by the fungusfolk, and she falls flat onto the forest floor. But like a quick little critter, she crawls on her hands and knees to escape.
The villainous vegetation give chase, and four even escape the writhing vines. Four of the plant people make a coordinated effort to grab the fallen gnome, and the others place themselves between the grapplers and the other combatants. Themp's arrow flies over the head of one standing between Nme'an and the surrounded gnome. Despite the unhelpful fellow plantfolk, and even a gnomish punch to the face, one of the gnome’s attackers manages to wrap its arms around her.
Both Mot and Shark defend themselves against the claws of these fungusfolk, though the tiger sustains small scratches from these little aggressive plant.
“No!” cries the other lady gnome, followed by an order in a strange tongue. The male gnomes nod to the command.
Olp charges forward with his polearm...
...but the spearhead doesn't quite connect with a plant man.
Nme'an moves in on the offensive and swings at the nearest plant creature with his long sword.
for
"Be brave, help is coming!" he calls out to the downed Gnome.
“Shark, that one!” Beorae calls, pointing at one of the plant people encroaching on the fallen gnome.
Shark sidesteps and attacks it from behind.
Beorae strides forward, drawing a vial of Alchemist's Fire and stopping at the edge of her Entangle spell. She lobs the flask toward the closest vine creature .
"Rats, they're too small!", complains Themp loudly. In no time, however, he lets loose another arrow at the closest... plant-thing.
As the arrow sails, he moves slightly closer to the action, knowing it will make aiming easier.
With swift, sure movements Mot strides into the fray, swinging his sword with gusto at the nearest enemy.
“Not rats! Vegepygmy!” the leader gnome corrects Themp.
The knight apprentice cuts down a foe. The archer’s shot strikes true, and Themp’s target falters but remains on its feet. Shark’s long claws get stuck in a vegepygmy, and the big grey cat tears it apart with his sharp teeth. The highlander cleaves his foe in half, and then wheels around a small patch of thick bushes to stand over the plant-man holding the gnome. Fire bursts over the walking fungus, already restrained by the teeming vines.
Leaping into action, both of the male gnomes reenter the fight!
One of them finishes off the plant-man with an arrow sticking out of it.
The surrounded female gnome struggles against the tendriled fungus limbs that hold her, to no avail.
With surprising agility, the leader gnome runs, hops, flips, and tumbles to a standing position, beside her grappled friend.
One vegepygmy squirms out of the entangling area. Free of the vines, it circles behind the wild man to slash at him with claws.
The rest of the fungusfolk continue the assault, and the one holding the gnome woman drags her by Mot’s feet, away from the fight, and deftly enough to maintain its defense.
Shark’s hide is too thick for the vegepygmy claws, but one of the male gnomes suffers scratches before his fungal adversary takes a step away.
Heavy blade swinging high over his head, Mot brings the weapon slamming down at the creature attempting to drag the gnome away.
Shark turns to his left and…
…utterly eviscerates the Veg standing between him and Mot into nothing but crumbly dust.
Beorae switches targets and readies her sling. “Ved-ge-pyg-mie?” the druidess asks as she whirls a stone at the entangled creature on the left .
Nme'an steps forward, pushing his way through some of the thicker grass, and attempts to end another of the plant-y attackers.
for
Themp moves even closer to the battle, keeping Shark and Nme'an between him and the plantfolk.
The diminished distance allows the street rat to fire faster and truer towards the foe flanking Mot.
Olp catches up and stabs a one of the plant people.
Mot’s blade misses his target, but his allies drop two more of the fungusfolk, and a third is reduced to ash and smoldering plant matter. Themp’s arrow hits, but it fails to kill the walking plant.
The leading gnome sprints ahead, wheeling around to cut off the escape of the vegepygmy. One of the male gnomes somersaults between Nme’an’s boots with a snicker and lands on his feet with a swing at his foe already in motion.
The last gnome reaches his captive kinswoman and tries to pull her free while she fights against the grip of the vegepygmy.
Although her fellow gnome wasn’t exactly helpful, the grappled one twists out of the hold and springs away.
One vegepygmy, severely damaged by a gnomish walking stick, manages to take one swipe before falling to the ground.
The other, determined to capture a gnome, lunges with open arms, this time at one of the males.
But the leading lady gnome would have nothing of the sort, and caves the vegepygmy head in with end of her walking stick.
One of the plantfolk disentangles itself from the writhing vines, and seeing the peril of its kin, turns and begins trudging through the vegetation, away from the battle.
The vegepygmy does not get far before the roots and vines ensnare it once again.
“You guys ready for these other two?” the druidess asks. When she sees that the others are ready, Beorae shouts, “Go, Shark!” and releases the Entangle spell. The vines go limp and retract back into the ground and the tiger's paws pound against the earth as he barrels down on the closest vegepygmy.
At Beorae's prompt, Themp shoots at the plantfolk farthest away.
Nme'an tracks the two remaining plant creatures and lifts his hand toward the nearer one. The now familiar mote of fire flares before his palm then grows even brighter as the Knight of Sarenrae fuels it with his undeniable and insurmountable righteous anger. He wills the firebolt forth and...
...nothing. Instead of providing the plant-y creature before him a very clear, easily followed path to the divine beyond, the blazing bolt of fire simply winked out as a candle at the end of its wick might.
Nme'an inspects his gauntleted palm in confusion then shrugs and readies his sword as he moves to chase the remaining attackers.
Anger burns in the Highlanders eyes as his swing misses. Seeing the remaining vegetable-creatures attempting to flee, heavily muscled legs propel the big warrior up and and through his comrades. He almost bowls over one of the fungus-people over but he twists at the last second, trying to bypass the creature all together. Once clear of the strange being, Mot focuses on his true prey. With a leap he clears the remaining distance and brings his heavy sword down in a swift arch.
The tiger’s sharp teeth miss the freed plantfolk. Themp’s arrow pierces its body, but the little walking fungus seems unaffected. The highlander dances through friend and foe with long, powerful strides, reaching the furthest fleeing vegepygmy, and he lops off its head.
One of the lady gnomes scurries into the thick underbrush, and the emerges at the last vegepygmy side.
One of the male gnomes circles around a thick patch of vegetation, bringing his walking stick up for an attack. Both he and the female gnome strike down the last plant monster.
Immediately, the other female gnome shouts out a command as she vaults toward the archer. The other male gnome spins and strikes the shaft of Olp’s spear, causing him to drop it. The leader gnome stops in front of Themp. She delivers a painless but no less surprising slap to his wrist, while deftly tugging the bow out of his grip. The bow falls to the ground.
The other two gnomes who just downed the vegepygmy remain on guard toward Nme’an and Shark.
“We will not help you go to the tall stone! Why do you go?” the leader demands of Beorae and Nme'an.
"We go to save our people," Nme'an answers honestly. "Why will you not help? What are you afraid of?"
About to slap the gnome right back, Themp stops short by Nme'an's question. It does not stop him from throwing a fierce questioning look towards the offending gnome.
Luckily for the group, he has enough good sense not to pick his bow back up immediately, but he still stays alert for any more sudden movements.
The leader gestures to the vegepygmy bodies strewn over the forest floor. “They take our home, and take us to make more of them!” She points northeast. “Everything that goes to the tall stone makes more bad things for the jungle. Vegepygmy. The Sho Pa. The dog that is not a dog. And the Ripple…” The leader trails off, and then explains further. “All monsters. For thirteen moons, the Ekki’Ekki’Ptang have been dying to monsters. The dwarves do not help. The fey cannot. No,” she points at the strangers to their lands, “Stay, or go, but going to the tall stone you cannot. We will stop you.”
At the most, the Dawnflower knights preceded the Thaleniel champions by a month. If the leader’s account is to be believed, their troubles started right around the time good King Thadeus fell ill, over one year ago.
The city scoundrel suspects that this gnome tribe suffers from xenophobia, based on its dislike of new “monsters” in the jungle, and the instant distrust of his traveling companions.
"Thirteen moons ago our king who brought prosperity and safety to several large cities became deathly ill. All the healing and medicine and magic from our lands, and those far more distant, can do is hold him at the brink of death," Nme'an explains. "If the timing is as you say then perhaps your troubles and our troubles are the same."
He stops and looks puzzled for a moment then says: "'sides, if the peoples of the forest do nothing and my people do nothing how can this problem to be solved? Evil only grows stronger when those of us who are good choose to do nothing. Our choice is to not do nothing... If you will not help us not do nothing then nothing will be done. Help us not do nothing and perhaps we can solve this for all."
Themp promptly rolls his eyes at Nme'an's quadruple negative, but quickly furrows his eyebrows in thought.
"Wait a moment. You said the fey can't help. Why is that?", he addresses the speaker.
Beorae is about to say something about the curious timing but Nme'an and Themp speak up first and ask the two questions that she herself had thought to ask. Feeling like she should come up with something, the druidess comments on the obvious, “It seems that whatever is creating these monsters is probably living at the tower. And Nme'an's right, we have to do something.”
“Help us, Ekki’Ekki’Ptang, you're our only hope!”
The knight apprentice’s words diffuse most of the tension from the gnomes. The leader of the small gnome band idly tugs an overlong green eyebrow, wrapping it around her finger as she thinks. One of the male gnomes snickers when Nme’an is finished speaking. He mimes a frown and gestures to his chin, then the knight, while joking in his native tongue. Every gnome but the leader shares in a brief laugh.
The joking gnome appears to be drawing a similarity between Nme’an and bearded dwarves, a similarity that the gnomes find amusing.
“Does a root stop when it finds a rock?” the unjoking male gnome asks Nme’an, “Or does it go around? We do not do nothing.”
The other female gnome answers Themp simply and solemnly, “It’s against the rules.”
Finally, the leader open her mouth, but then pauses to hear what Beorae has to say. It sparks an inquisitive look. “So those inside the tall stone are not your friends?” At this revelation, the other gnomes look at each other, and back at the strangers. She nods quickly, “We can help each other, yes? You clear our home of this mold?” The leader kicks a vegepygmy body.
“We will not go to the tall stone with you. It is not for the forest folk. But we can help in other ways.”
"Our friends were ones dressed as I am," Nme'an says. "They would have tried to stop the evil at the tall stone some thirty days ago, but we think they suffered many losses while passing through Kobold traps and perhaps more while journeying through the forest."
He listens as they talk of helping each other but does not immediately agree to their request. "Speak plainly, what ways would you help us? I wish the weighing was not so, but you are asking us to balance the lives of an entire country against the help you can offer."
Fey rules?
Themp is unsure what rules the gnome is talking about. The fey steer clear of urban areas, so what the thief knows of them is mostly hearsay from one traveler to the next.
The leader frowns, obviously confused by Nme’an’s words. “So, if we do not help you… then everyone in your land dies?” A playful glint takes her eye. “Doesn’t that make us your king?”
She lets a moment pass before gesturing at the paladin’s heavy armor. “You are used to walking between square stones and flat, barren ground. We were watching you. All of you are so slow for having such long legs. Well, except for you,” she flashes a smile at Beorae, “She is a knower of things. Listen to the Tiger Lady.”
Running a hand through thick underbrush beside her, she looks up at the sunlight streaming through the canopy of trees, and begins again. “How soon do you think you will reach the tall stone? My guess is tomorrow night. And all that loud aye-urn to call every tiger, snake, lizard, and angry plant along the way? If you help us now, we will show you how to safely reach the lakeshore tonight.”
One of the male gnome chimes in. “AND we’re really good woodworkers.” He puffs out his chest at this claim. The rest of gnomes nod proudly.
"Going around has left you without homes and is allowing an evil to spread far beyond your forest and all you can do is show us a safe way to travel? In exchange for our saving of your village? A great many people may suffer, may already be suffering, due to your going around..." Nme'an says, unaccepting of the Gnome's analogy.
"We do not go around. We will help you, because that is what we do, what our king commands that we do, and you will remember it. Lead the way."
The jesting male gnome snickers again, while the other gnome frowns at Nme’an’s rebuke. They both say something to the leader, who makes a discouraging reply. One of the male gnomes answers her insistently, and a brief argument in gnomish ensues. By the gestures of the two, the knight apprentice seems to be some of the subject matter in the disagreement. In the end, the male gnome relents and the leader turns back to the travelers from Vyren. The gnome she argued with exhales a deep sigh, rolls flat onto his back, and takes more deep breaths while staring up at the trees.
The leader looks up at the knight. “I do not think you understand what he means,” she gestures to the gnome on the ground. “And you should not blame your southerly problems on our ways. It is rude. We would not poke fun at your aye-urn clothes in your homes of square rocks. But here?” She opens her arms, indicating the vast rain forest around them, “Here, hard things like stone never bend, but they do break. Better to bend and survive, like trees in the wind, yes?”
“If you follow us, you need to abide by our ways,” she adds simply, turning to leave. The other gnomes follow her north.
The male gnome staring up at the trees hangs back until he walks alongside Nme’an. “You kept saying a word, ‘evil’. Is that a monster? What does it look and smell like, and what does it do?”
“It seems like a fair trade… helping each other.”
Beorae steps in behind the gnomes with Shark at her heels.
Nme'an too follows, but he does not drop the matter of the Gnomes providing more direct help.
"I do not poke fun at your clothing or homes," Nme'an replies, confused. "We have many diverse people within our boarders just as there are likely many types of people living in this forest. I was speaking why the peoples of this forest do not put a stop to those in the... tall stones. Clearing out your village will do little good if more of those mold creatures return. If the trouble is coming from the evil at that stone tower that is where it must be faced and ended."
The male Gnome's question regarding the word evil puts a kindly smile on the knight apprentice's face.
"No, "evil" is not a person or animal or monster," he answers. "It is a way of behaving. Most of us in this world strive to do good and to be kind, but all of us fail at these things many times during our lives. Sometimes we get angry for a time, or jealous, or greedy, or hateful. But we try not to because we know it is not right. Someone or something who is evil is the opposite. They base their entire lives and their goals on anger, or jealousy, or hate, or greed, and if left not opposed they can sometimes bring great harm to those around them, as seems to be happening now."
Nme'an pauses for a moment in consideration, then tries to tie his words back to his discussion with the Gnomes' leader. "We do not yet know the motives of those in the tall stones, but if they truly have cursed our king with sickness and are attacking the peoples of the forest without cause, then there can be no doubt that they are "evil" and must be stopped."
The male gnome beside Nme’an tugs a protruding eyebrow with a thoughtful grin. “Nmeyan, I think we did not understand each other, earlier. Maybe we still won’t? My speaking of roots meant that we do not harden ourselves to destroy another, such a thing is harmful to one’s heart. If we can stop a thing without killing it, and allow it to learn and grow and stop harming us, we will do so. Remember that I have killed more vegepygmy than you, so do not lie and say that we do not oppose them, because that is not true.”
He takes on a ponderous look, and a lecture spills from his mouth. “We have teachings, about Harm and Health, that sound similar to your evil and opposite evil, but not quite. The goal for us must always be health, for ourselves, and for others. If someone is attacking you, it is not because you are an enemy, but because they have tension, a knot, inside that drives their need to attack. The healthy thing to do, is to help release that knot in them. The vegepygmy are different in this way, they are unlike the tigers, snakes, and lizards, whose tension mostly comes from hunger,” he chuckles for a moment, “But harm can be used to heal, too, when done with the right intention. Because of this, one must extend his heartsense to know the intention of one who does harm. We lost many to the vegepygmy, because they are difficult to understand. Their knot of tension was a puzzle, and now that we have found it, there are too many of them. Our struggle has changed from one of understanding, to survival.”
The paladin senses that these gnomes might not acknowledge the same definitions of good and evil.
“As for the tall stone, and why we cannot go, I think Ariella knows more about that than I do,” he adds, “and you will probably meet her soon.”
Not too far, perhaps half an hour on foot in a northern direction, the leader stops at a particularly huge oak tree. Spanning perhaps fifteen feet in diameter, the height of the tree is lost to the lush green canopy above. Its base is a tangled mound of brown roots encroached by wild grasses, moss, and layers of decaying leaves. Indicating that the tall folk should wait, the leader climbs the sprawling hill of roots and raps a strange pattern along the trunk of the gigantic tree. The rhythm echoes off the nearby wooden trunks.
A deep rumble underfoot precedes a sudden stirring in the roots! Bending like limbs, a portion of the tangled roots arch to form a low, oval-shaped doorway downward into the earth. The entrance is a few feet too high for a gnome, but not quite tall enough to keep the people of Vyren from crouching to enter. Leading to a dirt tunnel going straight under the base of the tree, beacons of dim greenish-yellow light dot the dark, damp walls. The half-elves can see that the light sources are big mushrooms, and that the tunnel opens twenty feet underground into a larger room, lit in a similar fashion. There is busy movement in the larger room, and a din of many conversations all in the gnomish language. None inside seem to notice the tunnel or pay much attention to it. One of the gnomes makes a comment to the leader in their native tongue, complimenting the size of the door. She nods appreciatively, and then gestures that the tall folk should follow.
Barely refraining from externalizing expletives at the moving tree, Themp simply follow his companions, completely dumbfounded.
Beorae nods silently with a slight smile but doesn't say anything as the gnome tries to explain their perception of the world to Nme'an.
--
When the tree moves, the druidess's eyes open wide, curious about the magics that could cause such large roots to reshape themselves.
“I need to learn how to do that!” Beorae says, glancing back at her companions before following the gnomes into the cavern-under-the-tree.
Mot ducks his head deeply, pelts and chitin plate scrape against the wooden hall and hairy head connects with several of the exposed roots. He raises a meaty hand to the ceiling to help guide himself through the confined environment.
Nme'an listens attentively to the Gnome's thoughts on good and evil, but is unable to respond until they have passed into the hidden tunnel beyond the roots of the large tree.
"Look at how I am dressed in hard, heavy metal plates. See all the weapon I carry: A sword, a mace, a knife, and a bow. What would you think my job is? To kill? It is not. I, and those those we are looking for, who set out before us, are protectors and defenders. We are trained to use armor and weapons, yes, and to be deadly with them if need be, but we spend as much time training and learning to understand others, as you might say, and to solve conflicts without killing, as we do learning to kill."
When the knight apprentice hears the Gnome speaking of knowing the intention of those who do harm he nods and replies with: "That is true and that is what we will do when we reach the tall stone tower. We did not set out from the south to kill anyone. We only wished to find our people and find a way to heal our king. During our journey, our female companion spoke with wolves who were attacking us in order to try and spare their lives. I myself spoken to Kobold and Lizardmen for the same reason. In some cases we were able to avoid fighting or killing. In others, we were not. As much as we might wish for it, not everyone or thing can be reasoned with or the cost of... releasing their knot... is sometimes far too high to be met. If a tiger stalks you out of hunger it is often too late to release that knot... It is for those times that I wear my armor and my weapons."
The gnome listens to Nme’an, intrigued. He is quiet until the knight states that it would be “too late” if a tiger was already on the prowl, at which he stifles a snicker. “Maybe a tiger will hunt us, and I’ll get to show you what I’m talking about,” he says casually, as one who is accustomed to tangling with tigers. “Southerly customs are strange indeed…” he adds, pondering over the paladin’s armor and armaments. Fortunately, no tiger finds the travelers along the way.
Unlike the spells she can cast, Beorae did not hear any magical words, and the rhythm on the tree trunk did not seem right as a somatic component required by most spellcastings. The effect was undoubtedly similar to a wood warping spell she knows, but at a capacity beyond her own. However, she watched Ferwald accomplish much more with what he considered a “simple spell”, back when he instructed her. Given the lack of spell components, the druidess surmises that the source of the magic is innate to a creature, maybe even the tree itself.
When the four file out of the dirt tunnel and into the larger, low-ceilinged room. Roots as thick as legs act as supports, and more mushrooms sprout from the dirt walls of the open area, casting greenish yellow light on the low wooden tables that line the room. Three of those tables support small bundles, gnomish in shape, and each of the infirm has at least one other tending to them. One wall of this oblong room is bare, unadorned with lighting or a table. Moreover, large rocks are embedded in the dirt wall, and the roots appear to be especially interwoven there. Mot, Themp, and Beorae recognize that it is the west side of the room.
Five smaller, gnome-sized tunnels spread out from the commons, and out of them stream about a dozen gnomes when news of the visitors quickly spread. They form a semicircle around the Thaleniel champions, staring at the tall folk and carrying hushed exchanges in their native language. Olp nervously waits behind the men and half-elves.
“Quiet, everyone,” the leader speaks in the Common tongue, “These five southerners have agreed to help us retake our home, and we must also help them.” At this, a few nervous glances go back to the bare western wall, but all of the gnomes cheer in excitement and throw their arms into the air.
“Has anyone seen Ariella? A proper welcome is in order,” the leader calls out.
One of the root supports seems to have an unusual amount of lumps and curves, until a second glance shows it to be the form of a woman. She stands stock still at nearly five and a half feet tall, holding her arms up to touch the dirt ceiling. Her narrow figure blends in with the other roots, somewhat. By the green lighting, her skin looks as though it is made of wood, yet her features are smooth and her face is exceedingly beautiful. Long hair of leaves and blossoms flows down from the top of her head. This woman of wood silently watches the five from the back of the room.
As they enter the room, Themp can't help but gawk at the beautiful creature. He finds his gaze locked on her and fails to take notice of anything else.
The druidess recognizes this creature as a dryad, a fey guardian of trees. Only found deep in secluded forests, these capricious creatures do not interact with the civilized world, save for occasionally coercing a passerby to help them with a task they cannot complete by themselves. Most interestingly, a dryad is mystically bound to a single tree, often one very large and representative of their personality in some way. Dryads cannot wander too far from their bound tree without sickening and growing weak. Prolonged separation from their tree will kill them.
They only express maliciousness to those who would harm their forest, and to that extent, their role in violence is instilling befuddlement and confusion in enemies, while their allies drag their foes to the forest edge or kill them outright. Overall, they tend to be good-natured, and often find friendship with hunters and woodsmen who are respectful toward the forest.
Nme'an stands in an attentive pose and does not notice a thing.
“อาศิรพจน์ พรธรรมชาติให้กับคุณ,” Beorae quietly says to the dryad.
For a few moments, an awkward silence fills the room as the gnomes cast about. But then they follow the direction of Beorae’s greeting and laugh among themselves. “She loves hiding!”
Suddenly, what appeared to be one of the supporting roots near the back of the room begins to move. Slowly, the form of a woman steps forward, covered in naught but the leaf and blossom hair from her head. Were it not for her wood-like skin, and flowered hair, she would look like a human or elven maid. Dark and playful pupiless eyes regard the five, but she says nothing until she is a little closer.
Presently, the dryad beams at the druidess. “พรธรรมชาติให้คุณ! คุณอยู่ทุกชนิดเพื่อที่จะช่วยให้…”
“Ekki’Ekki’Ptang!” blurts the gnome leader. The dryad lowers a smiling nod in acceptance, and returns her gaze to the fellow tall folk. “ที่ พวกเขาใช้จำนวนหลายร้อยในสิ่งที่ไม่ดี ฉันไม่สามารถต่อสู้เพื่อพวกเขา แต่ฉันสามารถแบ่งปันบ้านของฉัน.”
“Nature’s blessing to you! You are all so kind to help the…” she turns a questioning gaze down to the female leader of the gnomes, who pipes up, “Ekki’Ekki’Ptang!”
The dryad lowers a smiling nod in acceptance, and returns her gaze to the fellow tall folk. “That. They used to number to nearly one hundred, poor things. I couldn’t fight for them, but I could share my home.”
It is difficult to tell if her all-black eyes glance at the others, but she begins again in the Common tongue, noticing the uncomprehending faces of the big man, paladin, and kobold. “But you all look like you are far from your homes, visiting my home. Rest your legs for a moment? Would you like, um, ชา?”
At the mention of resting one’s legs, roots sprout up from the ground and form flat coils that resemble stools near the feet of the men, half-elves, and kobold.
Nme'an graciously takes his seat but then asks, "I did not understand, would we like what now?"
Mots eyes widen appreciatively at the near nude wooden woman. A big dumb grin takes his face as he flops down onto a large root-stool. "Aye, mah lehgs are shoorly soore tha coould use ae good rub doon... But ah'll set-tall fore soom chaaw!"
He winks a big clear eye at the dryad as he runs a hand through his tangled and dirt encrusted hair. Sighing happily at the chance to rest.
“Tea,” Beorae translates for the others. When Mot plops himself down and mentions a leg rub, Beorae's face flushes slightly in embarrassment. “Just the ชา would be lovely, thank you. I take it that you are Ariella? Pleasure to meet you, your home is very beautiful.”
Beorae sits on one of the ‘stools’ and Shark curls up at her feet.
At the sound of the creature's voice, Themp can't help but swoon slightly. The sound of female-spoken Sylvan always strikes a pleasant note in his heart.
Absent-minded, he accepts the seat, gaze unfaltering.
“That is my name,” she nods graciously, “And thank you! The pleasure is mine. I’ve lived here before the jungling.”
Giggling at Mot’s dialect and strange request, she turns to a nearby table littered with small wooden cups and pitcher. The dryad fills the tiny cups. After a kindly sideways glance, she takes a handful of dark berries from a wooden bowl and drops a few into each drink. A sweeping gesture over the cups, with a repeated unfamiliar word, she nods in satisfaction. The gnome leader approaches to help Ariella.
The dryad used a simple druidic spell, cast once over each teacup, on the berries to strengthen those who eat them. Goodberry
While she prepares the tea, the travelers notice that a majority of the gnomes were taken aback at Mot’s words. The closest of them seem very tense, teetering between a fight-or-flight instinct. The calmness of the dryad and the other visitors seem to be the only damper on their unease. Some of them whisper to each other, none of them taking their eyes of the highlander. The only gnomes who do not take issue with the Casns are the four who first met him.
The gnome leader and Ariella bring the tea to the four. Olp accepts a cup but does not sip until he sees one of his more trusting companions imbibe. The drink is cool, though not cold, and quite refreshing. The bitter, herbal flavor is offset by the dark red sweet berries floating on top. For such a small drink, when the cup is empty the drinkers feel as though they ate a full meal. The dryad smiles quietly at the gawking city man, her gaze intense for her lack of pupils.
“There is a river borne from the mountains just south of us. The elves called it the Emestar, and it feeds a large lake many days from here, by my understanding. Might that be where you are from?”