Grattfaulk huffs rolling his eyes and turns to face away, keeping the creature in his peripheral vision.
The tatzlwyrm's expressions aren't easy to ready, but Theo's entreaties seem to surprise and puzzle it. <"You want...mossss?"> It cranes its neck to look down at the tree without entirely taking its eyes off of you. <"Why mossss? It is ussselessss--you can't even eat it!"> It turns back to Theo, eyes narrowing in suspicion. <"Ssstupid humansss! I will not fall for your foolish tricksss! Begone! Or burn in my flamess!">
The tatzlwyrm is bluffing, it can't breathe fire.
Kane lowers his head, so that his hair obscures his facial features, hiding the smile threatening to creep up. Do. Not. Laugh. he chastises himself.
Once Theo translates, Bac slaps his chest with one hand "HAH! It thinks this old man would lie to it? If it's so worried about us having ulterior motives, then why not ask it to throw the moss down here. We'll grab it and go. Don't even need to get close, eh?"
Theo smiles and continues to speak to the tatzlwyrm.
"I do not wish to have you 'burn' us, but we need the moss for an ingredient in making medicine. If you do not trust us, maybe you can go and get the moss for us. We will wait here until you return...or just one of us could move forward to collect it under your supervision."
<"Medicine..."> The tatzlywyrm seems to roll the word around, scaly brows furrowed in thought. <"Sssoftsskinss are...sssick?"> It makes a rumbling sound of disgust deep in its throat. <"Sick animals bad, bad for everything. Sssick humansss though...maybe not ssso bad."> A wicked grin splits the tatzlwyrm's toothy face. <"What isss my magic mosss worth to you?>"
Shaking his head with a wry smile, Theo answers the beast.
<"And here I thought you above such human fallacies...like greed! Well then, what is it that you think your moss is worth? I am sure the pitiful trinkets we carry would be of much worth to you. We do have a small amount of food with us if that would help?">
Assuming Theo translates, Bac rolls his eyes "Now it wants to play games with us about the value of the moss? When we're counting on getting back to save people? Why don't ye just put the wriggler in its place, Theo. Deal it a firm hand. Maybe make something up to give it a scare, eh?"
"I'm always game to play Bad Tiefling if it gets the job done," Ascian offers.
The tatzlwyrm ignores the outburst Bac--if it even understands him--appearing deep in contemplation of what it would want for the moss. <"I wantsss...hmmm...pickle fingersss!"> It announces after a long moment, long tongue flickering out in its excitement. <"Ssscary witch, ssshe keeps pickled fingerss in her houssse but sshe will not sshare with usss! Bring usss ALL of the pickle fingersss, and you can have ssstupid mossss!">
Kane lifts his eyebrows at the translation of the exchange. "Wyverns and Tatzlwyrms and Witches... oh my."
Bac raises a hand and then brings the team in for a huddle. He lowers his voice "I don't know about this whole witch thing. I make it a rule to not get cursed by vengeful witches, or really, anyone that has some dark magic on their side. Could be the witch is way out of our league." He glances at the tree and its moss "And the moss is right here. Maybe we're better off against this annoying little worm. It'd save us time and get the ingredients back to town faster. What do you think?"
He nods to Theo "You too boy, what's your take on this? You think it's trying to play us?"
"I say kill it," the half-orc says in a hushed tone, becoming ever increasingly annoyed by the tatzlwyrm.
Theo looks at the group and then back to the worm, then to the group again.
"Normally I would agree with you warrior Grattfaulk, but this is not some stupid beast, but rather an intelligent being. Unlike the warg we encountered, I sense that this beast is more just a creature of nature rather than an evil entity. Let us see if there is another route to take, or at least discover more about this witch...I mean, who keeps fingers in a jar?"
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"Witches."
Bac shrugs "If it wants us to go deal with this witch for some fingers, it probably can't do it itself. So, I figure the witch is the worse of the two. Not sure how much more you want ta know beyond that boy."
"Intelligent or not, its got no love lost for humans and it wants us to risk our lives so it can have a snack. Who cares if it meets the paladin-approved definition of evil." He nods to Grattfaulk's assertion.
Kane shakes his head at Theodorus, "Intelligent, aye. But more a creature of magic, than nature. As to which is the safe, or better, I can not answer that."
"This witch could just as easily be a woman who lives in the forest and minds her own business. Humans will persecute each other over little and less."
The tatzlwyrm's eyes flicker back and forth to each speaker, uncomprehending. <"We hasss deal?"> It's tongue flicks out to taste the air, like a snake.
Theo looks at his companions then back to the tatzlwrym and finally speaks.
"<Where is this witch located?>"
He looks to the group apologetically.
"Sorry, but I just cannot kill such a creature when there are alternatives."
Bac shrugs "By my reckoning about these things, you'll be killing someone. Might not be the worm, but it'll be someone." He claps the wizard on the shoulder "Still, lets do it your way."
A pained look crossed Grattfaulk's face as he turns and walks away in the direction the wyrm points.
Kane nods at Theo, "Choosing life is always the harder course, but rarely the wrong one. Let us go see if we can find a peacable way."
Smugly delighted that you've accepted the deal, the tatzlwyrm gives you meandering instructions to a small clearing south-east of this tree, but still well north of the river--deep in some of the least-explored parts of Darkmoon Forest. With a tentative bargain struck, you set back off into the forest. The tatzlwyrm's instructions were a bit muddled, involving several scent-based landmarks, but it is Grattfaulk who makes it work--the half-orc puzzles out the instructions and corrects the group's course several times before the group quite abruptly stumbles upon their quarry.
The sounds of the forest become suddenly distant as the trees part, opening into a small, almost perfectly circular glade. The near-est stands of pine, eyln, and darkwood—all typically sturdy woods that twist away from the clearing, as if bent by some impossibly strong wind or seemingly in an attempt to flee despite their paralyzed roots. At the glade’s center squats an ugly cottage, little more than a pile of twigs, shoots, and ivy stacked upon mud walls. From the thatched roof dangle bundles of gnarled roots, old dried beast carcasses, and knucklebone bangles, all clattering together like gruesome wind chimes. A dozen small thatched fetishes—each shaped like a tiny man, imp, or rearing serpent—stand propped in the yard, keeping guard before a rickety plank door.
Theodorus looks at the decrepit hut and shudders.
"Ummm...well here we are. Should we call out to the witch, or knock or something?"
Bac raises a tired eyebrow "You're the one that wanted to deal with the witch rather than just take the moss right in front of us. Don't go chickening out on us now." He waves to the door. "We go up, introduce ourselves, ask for some pickled fingers to go, and pay the witch with a good beating." He lets loose a raspy laugh before coughing.
"Unless there's something easier you have in mind."
Unless Theo or someone else objects, he rubs the small of his back and then heads over to the door to rouse the witch.
Theo hesitantly follows the old man up to the witch's door. He nervously keeps his eyes on the many strange fetishes propped up in the yard and hanging from the building itself.
Ascian waits patiently at the perimeter of the yard, tail swishing to and fro as she waits for...something.
Bac pushes open the door with only a little difficulty, as the mouldering wood threatens to pull right off the hinges.
Inside, the cottage is dank, reeking of decay, and filled with shadows. Haphazardly hung shelves line the walls, covered in all manner of clay jugs, clouded bottles, strangely cut rocks, rotted bunches of herbs, and a museum of other crude curios and rem-nants of a bone grinder’s artifice. A rusted iron cauldron, with a mouth nearly 5 feet wide and a depth of at least 3 feet, dominates the hut’s single room, its ash-covered surface shaped with a relief of capering fiends and leering devils.
Across from the door, against the far walls, stands a high-backed chair made of wicker, the gigantic curved tusks of some monstrous beast, and thousands of human teeth. In the chair sits what looks like a corpse wrapped in filthy burial linens, its form padded with pungent herbs and sprouting patches of thick white mold.
Under his breath Grattfaulk mutters to Bac, "if that thing moves, I am throwing the mage at!"
A look of cocern passes the wizard's features as he overhears Bac and Grattfaulk talking.
In a nervous whisper he confronts the orc warrior.
"Ummm...lets hope that it does not come to that...I do not think I would make a better weapon that those you carry!"
He still takes a step away from the fighter, but keeps his eyes on the strange figure in the chair.
Grattfaulk chuckles and gives the wizard and approving nod, "Well lets get to searching, less time here the better.
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Seeing the others enter the hut without being turned into frogs, Ascian moves in a silent crouch to wait outside the door. She turns her attention to the woods around the clearing.
First, Bac will try to listen for any sounds of movement or signs of life within the house.
If he doesn't notice anything, he'll stand in the entryway, arms crossed, eyeing the moldy 'corpse' with suspicion. "Hey witch, if you're alive, we're here to borrow a couple of pickled fingers for an annoying squirt of a tatzylwyrm down that-a-ways. If you've got a problem with that, you can pipe up, eh?" He raises his voice, casting it through the house.
Kane keeps a vigil for someone to approach them from with the witch's hut, not relishing the idea of crossing the threshold.
The figure in the rocking chair does not move or respond in the slightest, though the older man still receives an answer. Behind him, a creak and groan of metal fills the hut as the cauldron lurches into sudden motion!
-Round One-
Grattfaulk
Cauldron
Kane
Ascian
Bac
Theo
Bac grunts at the cauldron moving "Oh no you don't"
"The hell," Grattfaulk shouts as he smashes in hammer into the Caluldron.
Witches make Grattfaulk one twitchy mother goose, so when the cauldron comes to creaky life the burly half-orc reacts with impressive speed. His hammer strikes the cauldron squarely, ringing it like a church bell and badly denting the cast-iron rim. Rounding on its attacker , the cauldron kicks out with iron legs that could easily break bone! The first blow catches Grattfaulk off guard--luckily, him staggering back from the impact puts him just out of range of the next two kicks!
-Round One-
Grattfaulk (-9hp)
Cauldron (-18hp)
Kane
Ascian
Bac
Theo
Bac fires off a quick round with this flintlock, the gun's report echoing in the small shack.
While the cauldron is "reeling", he strides up and tries to clobber it with his warhammer.
Grattfaulk's blow must have weakened the cauldron's integrity, because Bac's pistol and hammer are more than sufficient to finish the construct off! With another creak of metal and rattle like scattering cutlery, the shattered cauldron topples to the floor, still forevermore.
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"-And yer mother was a saucepan!" Bac spits at the remains of the animated cauldron. However, soon afterward, he settles back into glancing around the cottage for anything else that might want to attack the group.
Ascian, standing guard outside, all but leaps into the air at the sudden explosion of sound (and an actual explosion) inside the hut. She rushes into the room, rapier at the ready, only to see the other gathered around a smashed cauldron. "What in the Hells are you people doing in here?"
"... It attacked me..." Grattfaulk says looking at the cauldron.
Kane pokes his head around the corner, looking at the mess inside.
"Well if we weren't going to have an angry witch on our hands before," the druid remarks, "we sure will now. Best to get what we came for an leave."
Standing up fully once again, after crouching and covering his ears after Grattfaulk smashed the cauldron.
"IS IT OVER? IS EVERYONE...sorry, is everyone ok?" he yells at first, then lowering his voice to a more manageable level.
"Yea boy, all fine." Assuming nothing else jumps out to attack, Bac examines the jars in the room for any that contain pickled fingers. If he can find it, he picks up the jar and heads on out.
The figure in the chair does not stir at the brief but noisy disturbance that is the cauldron's vanquishing. Indeed, upon a closer examination this ominous shape is actually only a bundle of branches, mud, and linen. For what purpose it was left here, and where the real witch may be, only the gods know.
Scanning the shelves and cupboards, Bac eventually finds a collection of relatively large jars made of thick brown glass sealed with wax. Though difficult to peer through, the gunslinger is able to make out the vague shape of seven or eight humanoid fingers--some clearly not from human hands. Prize in hand, Bac turns to leave.
A quick Detect Magic does reveal a magical aura within the bungle of detritus piled in the chair. Digging through the refuse (or getting someone else to do it for you) uncovers a morid treasure: a small shrunken head, slightly larger than an apple, with its eyes stitched shut.
While you can determine that it is definitely magical and appears to require activation by its wearer, the exact properties of the macabre amulet escape you.
Theo examines his newly found prize with a look of disgust and fascination.
"I wonder what it does?", he thinks out loud.
Shrugging his shoulders, and not wanting to be left in the creepy hut alone, he hurries out to catch up with the others...stuffing the head in a pouch on his belt.
"Ok, back to the wyrm and then gather our moss! See, it all worked out for the best!"
Kane looks back at the witch's hut as they walk away from it, hoping that they haven't made a new enemy.