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"Oh my, these are quite a bit more mortifying in the flesh than in the paper..." Ilathor mutters to himself. "We seem to have already been acquainted with the supernatural fear and the fire breathing, yes? Well, keep avoiding those vines too, they have a tendency to suffocate through strangulation!" he explains, trying to overcome the chill in his spine by reciting some facts about the creatures. He punctuates his sentence with another bolt of force.
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With bolts of force, the arcanist blasts off chunks of the remaining jack-o'-lantern.
With bolting force, the kineticist offs the jack-o'lantern until only chunks remain.
Seconds later, the remains of the plant-creature expand with heat and then violently explode in a fiery shower of burning spores. Forewarned, the Pathfinders watch from a safe distance.
A crumbling lumber mill, unremarkable except for the large wooden statue protruding from the front, stands to the north. A pile, appearing to consist of six ripe, delicious looking berries and three sizeable pumpkins, stands at the base of the statue, which itself looks nearly identical to that previously seen by the Pathfinders within the thicket.
Carved alongside the wooden statue is an inscription that reads, “Like the Lord of Seasons, our hoods illuminate truth, while their masks shelter deceit. Let this be the sign of our covenant. -E”.
You are able to discern that the message must have been left by Eylysia. Further, you infer from the inscription that Eylysia was telling her or whomever discovered her message that raising their hood would stand as a signal of support or alliance. This is almost certainly the clue that you were sent to find.
Beyond the statue stands the ruined mill. Its door, ravaged by time and the elements, lies agape.
You spot a form inside the mill, watching you with interest. The figure is that of a human woman. Long, red hair trails down her back where it is met by red, fox-like tail. She wears crocus-emblazoned armor and wields a silver lance. Atop her head is a cowl that appears to have been composed from colored leaves sewn together.
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"Glad that is over with. Those things are simply disturbing," Ilathor says as he sheathes his wand. Striding over to the mill, he pauses to look the place over with Detect Magic. "Do we suppose these grow here or are offerings?" he asks to nobody in particular, before searching the area for anything that might make a suitable offering.
"Ah, a note from Elysia! Hoods are advised," he says as he throws his hood on.
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Quintus fails to find any insights from the note - must be some druidic nonsense. So he has to take the elf's word on the meaning of it.
But he does notice the figure inside the mill. The woman seems to be armed, but doesn't look very hostile - just ... strange.
"I wonder if would apply some hood-messages here. Ilathor, did you figure any anything specific from the note?"
"Hello there! Why don't you come out of the shadows - I won't bite (unless you ask me to, that is..)"
A handsome woman adorned with a cowl and crocus-emblazoned armor appears at the entrance of the mill. She wields a silver lance in her hand and her long, red hair descends down her back, obscuring her back and ending in a fox tail. Her cascade of red hair catches the light, but her face is hidden deep within the cowl, which appears to have been composed from colored leaves sewn together.
“Take ye not a step further into Ng’s sacred realm." she calls out to them from the mill’s doorway. "I am the Crocus Knight, sworn protector of the Thicket of Endless Fall and rightful successor to Ng’s chosen, Zaul Blystone."
She then grips her lance more tightly, scrutinizing the party. "Are you here to join in the grove’s protection, or defile its splendor? Speak now, lest I add you to the great harvest."
Having cast detect magic Ilathor perceives an aura emanating from the cowl, as well as the pile of berries. The pumpkins next to them produce no aura.
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"I am Ilathor, currently of the Pathfinder Society. We are actually here for the Autumn's Cowl upon your head!" he explains, apparently unperturbed by the threat. "Oh look, those pumpkins will be Jack-o'-Lanterns eventually, throwing them would make quite the fire. Oh, you're a Huldra, are you not? What an interesting little place we've found! Elysia must have been quite busy," he rambles.
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Damhán knows nothing about the woman that was concealed in the mill, nor whoever, or whatever, this Ng she venerates is. Still, the others do not seem overly concerned, so he assumes her to be a potential ally of some sort... or at least a possible source of information.
He merely stands to the side, observing.
"You are here for the cowl?" replies the Crocus Knight. "You, then, are the new protectors of the Thicket of Endless Fall?" The huldra gives a sigh of relief and removes the cowl, offering it to elf. "Clearly, you have displayed your knowledge of nature and your ability to fight, if necessary, and protect this place. It would seem that my time to pass the mantle, that which Zaul Blystone laid upon me, has now come."
"Long ago, I was a wanderer. A spirit free of duty. I had come across this place through sheer fortune and only after being lost within it's enchantments for some time. When I finally found it, I was close to death myself. That is when Zaul Blystone arrived. It was he who saved me. I realized then that he knew this place well, including it's initial protections--better than any other I have known or seen come through here. As this very place is a message from Ng, who but a follower of Ng could navigate it so?"" notes the Crocus Knight. "You, too, are here and without seeming difficulty. Truly, you could not arrived here without the favor of Ng."
"This cowl atop my head was a gift from Ng, by way of Zaul Blystone." she continues. "And now, on behalf of Ng, I gift it to you to carry on the work Ng, creator of this Thicket of Endless Fall. The Hooded One acts also as keeper of the seasons. Though the magic of Ng has seen to it that this Thicket does not undergo the change of the seasons, it would seem that that is not the case for me. My season as protector here has come to an end. Your season, now, is just beginning."
"As for that name you mentioned..." The Crocus Knight pauses for a moment, as if trying to bring a distant memory to the surface of her thoughts. "Eylysia, was it not? I believe that there was a gnome woman who used that name. She here came to the grove long ago, but she didn’t stay long. She inscribed a prayer at the base of the Ng statue which would supposedly be helpful to allies of the grove at a future time, but I, myself, was never able to discern its meaning or purpose. Perhaps, though, during your time here guarding the thicket, you will be be able to do so."
"Go ahead, then, don the cowl." urges the huldra. "Lest you have any more questions for me, I will be on my way. A free spirit once again. My duty in guarding the thicket is fulfilled with the arrival of you, my new allies, and I am excited to finally leave the thicket and start a new journey. What say you?"
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"I see... And did Zaul tell you why exactly he wanted to have you guarding this place?"
Quintus did not know much of Zaul Blystone, but if they came all this way because of Eylysia's suspicion of the man, there must be something fishy about this story.
"It is a great honor to don the Cowl, but do tell us what manner of defilers have you fought here?"
"I see... And did Zaul tell you why exactly he wanted to have you guarding this place?"
"It is a great honor to don the Cowl, but do tell us what manner of defilers have you fought here?"
"The lumberjacks pose a constant threat." responds the Crocus Knight. "Though, I never battled any myself, the evidence of the evil of those vile cutters is readily apparent. Behold, this old mill behind me. It is a testament to their hatred for the forest. Were it not for Zaul Blystone's initial wards, and those he had me put into place, the lumberjacks would no doubt have laid waste to this sacred Thicket. As it is, I have been diligent in my duties and maintained those wards so that no lumberjacks have come during my tenure as guardian. Though, Zaul Blystone told me how he personally had defended throngs of such foes during his days as protector of the Thicket."
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Damhán felt a little confused. The way the fey woman described it, taking the cowl would lead to having to stay here, in this blighted place, to become the new protector of ... well... trees? Mud? He wasn't sure.
He hoped that wasn't the case, else it would be a little difficult to return the artifact back to the Lodge.
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"Lumberjacks.. Yes, terrifying enemies. However, I am confident we will triumph over them, should they dare to attack."
Quintus takes the Cowl, and holds it in his hands - secretly cursing he wasn't able to decipher the magics. And then, with a grandiose move, he dons the Cowl.
"Crocus Knight - Your sacred duty has ended, and you are free to go. The duty is now ours - for I am Quintus, sworn protector of the Thicket of Endless Fall" The cleric declares with an impressive voice.
“Hail to thee, then, Quintus--guardian of Ng’s sacred realm and rightful successor to Ng’s chosen, the Crocus Knight, and Zaul Blystone before her! May your strength and that of your companions remain with you until your season comes to an end.”
The huldra beats her arm against her armored chest in a gesture resembling a salute. She then bows and heads into the wood, where she quickly disappears.
Removing the Autumn’s Cowl from the thicket ends the permanent season phenomena allowing the natural cycle to resume. As you travel you find that some of the protective wards and illusionary magic that had made navigation through the thicket have now been dispersed, perhaps due to the actions of the Crocus Knight.
As you emerge from the forest, you find that Adelyn Rhinon has remained near the thorn wall, though this time she is on the opposite side as before. Though she looks even more tired than earlier, she has a smile upon her face as she bends down and examines the ground. "This land was sorrowful, yet there are now signs that it will one day bloom again! Tell me, what have you found inside the wall?"
Adelyn nods curiously at the Pathfinder's explanation. "Zaul... Blystone, was it? I am sorry. That name has no meaning to me." she responds.
Looking deeper into the wood, though the thicket, she notes, "I sense a... change... in the forest. Have you found the source of the blight? Must I still invest so much energy into the maintenance of this barrier?"
The Greenfire druid looks at Kazu, quizzically at first. Then, after a few moments of thought, she nods in understanding. "Thank you, Pathfinders." she says with both gratitude and relief. "My order is indebted to you and, I personally, am most grateful that this barrier will no longer be needed."
"Farewell, and safe travels." says the woman as she seems to melt into the forest.
Not long after you leave the forest, another missive from Master Shane makes it way to your hands.
As you approach the outpost known as the Rising Spire, you find that the claustrophobic tunnels outside of the outpost are carved with smoothed stone walls adorned with periodic arrow slits, twisting and turning until they converge at an open cavern about one hundred feet wide and at least twice as tall. At its center stands a tower carved from natural stone, rising up into the darkness.
A young dwarven woman with rock dust in her hair and stonemason’s tools hanging from her belt steps out of the tower. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she says as she brushes the dust away with a gloved hand before extending it in greeting. “I’m Helga Silverbrew, head architect around here. Welcome to the Spire!”
A middle-aged dwarven man in leather armor steps out after her. “I’m Urgrin. Most call me Urgrin the Everyman. I haul rocks, patch up armor, feed the cat, whatever needs to be done around here. And you lot must be the Pathfinders we were expecting!”
"No doubt, Urgrin." notes Helga as she turns to the party. "We have some hours of travel still ahead of us. I pray that you Pathfinders will be able to shower us with tales of the fascinating or strange locales that you have visited or stories of the various kinds of monsters you’ve slain!"
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Richard shrugs.
"I'm Richard Ashendale. Pleased to meet you. In terms of tales, well, there was the time I helped explore a Goblin-infested Azlanti ruin, culminating in a tower-top fight with a Bugbear; or the time I went to Cheliax to preserve the truth of history, very much against the wishes of the ruling government..."
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"And I am Ilathor Valmaxian!" the Elf proclaims with a flourish. "As far as a tale, I led an expedition into Tian Xia where we picked up a cold case of severe import. Battling spirit-possessed bears, founding a school of martial arts, villains in the night, and speaking with ghostly apparitions all had a place in our successful journey!"
The two dwarves nod approvingly to Richard as they assemble their gear to set out. "Goblins are a long-hated foe of our kin--second only to orcs." notes Helga.
"Or, perhaps, giants." chimes Urgrin grimly.
There response to the elf's accounts are similar, until the mention of ghostly apparitions. At that point, Helga flashes a glance at Urgrin, who hastily asks, "So, how 'bout the rest of ye? What legends will they speak uv ye in the stone halls of valor?"
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Black Midknight leaves out the more mundane details of her adventures, focusing instead on the more dramatic bits, especially the parts that give the least clues about herself. She is also careful to leave out adventures she did as her social identity as much as possible. "During my travels as the masked vigilante, Black Midknight, I have faced numerous horrors and terrors throughout the world, both supernatural and mundane. I have done battle with an evil machine cult in Numeria, defeated ancient undead created by the Runelord of Wrath, and defeated supervillains in the streets of Absalom."
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"I am afraid I will have to disappoint you, good dwarves - for I am no slayer of monsters. I fight with my words, not arms. I advance the Society's cause in contract negotiations, diplomacy, and trade deals."
Then as if remembering the heavy plate armor he wears, Quintus continues: "Of course, I have to be able to protect myself - my travels take me to many places, some more dangerous than others."
And the cleric continues by telling tales of his travels in Druma and Rahadoum, but in his droll voice fails to make the stories particularly interesting.
The dwarves listen to the vigilante's story eagerly, exchanging a glance when Black Midnight mentions undead, though they do not press the subject further.
Helga and Urgrin even express interest in Quintus' words, at least at first, but the cleric's method of speaking tests their dwarves endurance.
The conversations continue for a couple of hours as the party travels through the subterranean tunnels. Yet, as you travel, you find that the two dwarves seem to show some discomfort each time someone mentions either undead or the cavern to where you are all headed. When the subject arises, the two guides grow quiet for a moment, before one tries to change the subject.
The two dwarves fall silent for a moment.
"The cavern 'tis haunted." Urgrin reveals, finally breaking the silence.
"Aye." chimes in Helga. "I canna think of any other explanation for the unnatural screams heard coming from from deep within."
"We tried, repeatedly, to tell our fellow dwarves about these sounds, but our fellow soldiers never believed us, dismissing our accounts as mere superstition." notes Urgrin.
Helga falls silent for a moment, then confesses, "Since that cavern lies just on the edge of our patrol route, we had all the excuse we need t'avoid investigatin' the source of tha noises--till we were told that you'd be comin' here, wishin' to visit the place."
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"I cannot help but notice you feel some discomfort when the talk turns to the topic of undead. Is there something in the cavern ahead? Perhaps you would like to share your concerns with us?"
Despite his droll voice, Quintus manages to be very assuring, as always.
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After hearing the dwarves' story, Quintus merely nods.
"I see. Well, we are here to investigate, so we might as well investigate the source of these noises. You can come with us, or stay back, whichever you prefer."
"We must continue our patrol." Helga says in response to Quintus' invitation as you reach the entrance to the cavern.
"Aye." Urgrin agrees. "We will ensure that you are not surprised by any foes that may appear from elsewhere to trap you within the cavern. But, as for what may already lie there, I trust you Pathfinders know wut yer doin'."
"May Torag's blessing be upon ye." declares Helga as the two dwarves say their farewell and venture off into a nearby tunnel.
With the dwarven guides have departed, it appears that only you and the cavern entrance remain. The cavern’s entrance begins with a simple stone archway. Its walls are made of smooth stone, completely lacking in decoration.
You know that the style of unappealing, functional adequacy is fitting for the level of work that the faithful of Droskar would create—and far below par for the masterfully engraved walls one usually finds in the halls of dwarven cities.
The cavern breaks off into a smaller, connected tunnels that lead to a series of halls. Once a statue garden, these halls are cluttered with scorched and shattered stones. Short, dusty pedestals have little to showcase, save for rubble and the occasional stone foot. Several stout skeletons lie beneath the piles of ruin, their brittle bones snapped and scattered. A single pristine warhammer rests on the floor to the northwest.
You notice small footprints and drag marks on the floor beginning at the cave entrance. The footprints trail back and forth between the entrance, past some of thee broken statuary in these halls, and into an area deeper into the northern part of the cavern.
Richard
Kazu
Damhán-Alla
Quintus
Ilathor
Black Midnight
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Damhán observes the poor quality of the tunnels with a frown.
"I suspect most dwarves would be embarased by this poor construction." He says absently. "Only the followers of Droskar would be satisfied with this work."
Of course, he's too focused on the construction, and completely misses the more current signs of activity.
As they reach the cavern of broken statuary, he ponders it closely.
"Well this doesn't look particularly safe." He adds, glancing at the others. "Still no reason to risk whatever trap is in there... here, let me."
bits of rubble and debris start to vibrate around him as he lifts one hand, as if he were holding something, and tries to telekineticly draw the hammer closer.
The hammer is drawn to the hand of the kinetcist.
Richard
Kazu
Damhán-Alla
Quintus
Ilathor
Black Midnight