Fairly spoken, said Matron Sagmārius. If such were possible and within our nature, yet perhaps we can simplify further... with the risk of lack of understanding and it's ills.
Ha!, the Crone barks, with what might be a laugh. We've broken her after all that trouble you went to.
Hush - even you can see the iron within her, the Matron chides in return. But simplicity, it's seems, and brevity are maybe best with these, if for the short term weal if nothing else.
Places have power. Your holy places, for instance, are made powerful through faith.
Battlefields and graveyards too, have power, blanketed by the shadow of death, adds the Crone.
And some because they are a nexus of power, either by flow or origin, the grandmotherly figure continues.
This place is all of that... and more, croaks the Crone from her chair.
What happens here... because what here IS, has consequence, Matron Sagmārius finishes. Here is not just a place in a map or by measure of geography but also as a place in time, and position of the stars.
Iocundius listens, and wonders.
"We came to this isle with purpose, in the wake of a goblinoid raid on the town yonder water. We came here to investigate the old monastary on Roslof Hill. Perhap the captives taken have to do with this nexus of power? A ritual?"
"As for your balance, there is word in the Empire that druids dwell in the borderlands and beyond, with great power over nature. Be ye these druids?"
Ha!, barks the Crone with a tone of amusement.
Not as such but... If it makes you feel better dear, you wouldn't be greatly off the mark, says the Matron.
But you have your finger on it... the Monastery is indeed the surface part of the problem, and the captives more a symptom of a greater malady. We would hope that you would be ones who would be here to at least look into that issue, and are pleased that you are. As such, perhaps a gift then is in order...
She clasps her hands together and when she parts them? There are 5 springs of some sort of evergreen in her palm.
If you would willingly accept these? They would protect you to a degree and give you a chance of success, the kindly old lady says before moving to the Crone and offering them to her, who in turn raises her hand in a benediction of her own that has the springs covered in hoary frost.
If it is that you can see deeper than to the surface problem then this will aid you further, she says proffering the objects to you in her extended open palm. It is seldom we offer gifts and even rarer that we ask for nothing in return.
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Antal never being one to refuse free items, accepts the gift. "Thank you, I am sure we will find great use in them."
But I am still no piglet for you to roast he thinks to himself.
Gaelden quietly took one, uneasy with offending powerful and insane witches.
Kalia took one and put it in her belt pouch, then asked "Do you know what sort of enemy we'll face in the Monastery?"
The frosty bit of strange evergreen is cold and icy to the touch... and the ice itself does not melt!
Lost or rather stolen souls... I would think Hobgoblin and Human mostly, some rather difficult to destroy. Our gift will help somewhat with that, a balancing of the scales if you will.
The end of our time together grows near. Any other questions?
Varis couldn't help but think that the longer they stayed here the more likely they would be the next meal of these crones. Finishing his tea quickly with a loud satisfied sigh Varis said "Well, we appreciate your hospitality and especially your gifts! We'd best be leaving to deal with those lost or stolen souls as you call them." Varis looked around slightly confused "So what's the best way to get out of this... place... or time... or wherever we are?"
Iocundius takes a single sprig and examines it before tucking it into a pouch.
"Thank you. Do you have any parting advice on tackling the 'deeper' problem?"
Antal ready's himself to be sent back into the maw of the giant ant at any moment.
Antal tries to figure out how to work the magical plant works.
Seeing his companions looking at the strange twigs the crones gave them Varis tries to examine his closer.
Looking puzzled at the old women Varis added "Wait, what exactly do we do with these?"
"or who is behind it?"
Now you seek less simplistic answers? The deeper problem? One must be willingly to go beneath the surface... but beware, while you might be able set things aright? It's likely your doom.
The who? We will not name it... 'The Star Traveller' is one name, 'The Watcher in the Dark' is another. It is an opener of the way, a snarling vine that has made it past the Outer Gate, and it can end it all.
Time... there isn't enough. As for the our gift? Carry it on your direct person. We give you our blessing! Be brave, be wise, the Matron adds.
Be successful, the Crone croaks.
She waves her gnarled hands and you appear at some point... possibly on the island, you think it looks consistent with what you saw before - twisted, tortured foliage and trees...
Iocundius looks around, trying to work out where the group has been teleported to - and how much time has passed.
Maybe a hour has passed, it's now mid morning. You have no idea where you are.
"I might be able to climb that tree over there and see if I can figure out where we are."
Antal makes his way over to a tree that might fit the bill for what he has planed. And Antal start to shimmy up the tall trunk, using branches as foot and hand holds.
Gaelden walked along, mumbling about magic, not getting paid, and how he didn’t want to be a frog.
Antal can't really see much more than tree tops... except a thin plume of smoke to the west.
"To the west? Then let us seek it out."
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As far as I can see was tree tops. I could not even make out the water we came in on. The only thing I could see was a thin line of smoke coming from the west. With out knowing where we came from how do we get back to the boat?"
Answering Iocundius "I guess that's at least is a start, and a good direction as any."
Antal grabs his pack and gets ready to head out.
"That is a problem. But not one that we are not going to solve waiting here."
"If a plume of smoke is all we have to go on then perhaps we should head that way. We defiantly need some kind of bearing in order to find the boat again." Varis said following Antal.
You make your way through the aberrant brush and twisted trees before they start to thin out. You look down on a clearing that includes some human figures moving around in dark robes, a large wooded cage with maybe 20 or so people trapped within and an old stonework church or temple.
Varis looks towards Antal saying ”Perhaps we should get a closer look and see who we are dealing with while the others hold back. I may be able to infiltrate them if I can understand their language.”
Iocundius nods in agreement at Varis' words.
"Scouting is a good call."
"Be safe. I can sneak in a pinch, but if this is scouting then the fewer people to muck it up the better."
Varis is able to move through the foliage without incident... you've come to realise that the woods here are peculiar in their motions and sounds - he is able to capitalise on that.
The robed figures seem human, not hobgoblin and appear living rather than living dead... at the very least not moldy. They primarily focus on watching the captives, occasionally talking among themselves in low mutters but also keep a fire and camp outside the building tended. The haunch of meat roasting near the fire is definitely not animal...
The building itself is overgrown with warped brush, small twisted saplings and jagged leaved and thorned vines. It's easily centuries old. While an effort has been made in the past to alter a pre-existing structure to give it a more 'Imperial' appearance, old brickwork and plaster has fallen away revealing an Older crude stone structure...
Antal makes his way with Varis. Using what he can of the cover to hide his movements.
Whisper to Varis "I am thinking that they might be eating the captives. I can keep an eye on things here, if you want to warn the others."
”They’re eating them? Well we should just get a move on then. Move in with force. You stay hidden and ambush them when they come out to eat us. Take out any casters.” He said, lifting his hammer.
Varis will spend time listening to the captors picking up any particular accents or dialects.
Varis is unable to make much of their muttering... he thinks it's common... maybe...
Iocundius nods at Gaelden's words.
"A solid plan. Let us execute it."
The priest of Law readies his mace for emphasis.