Vashrin nods, deferring to Willow's thoughts on the matter, before ducking for cover.
Hearing the lyrics of the song, Sam decides it's not a bad idea to pass on the talkin' and go on the hidin'.
Nuruk gives a nod after hearing the song, not wanting to have to engage if it was possible. Moving alongside Willow, he would take cover nearby her.
Khalil-spider scurries back up into the tree canopy where he does his best to blend in with the surrounding foliage. Unfortunately, he still isn't completely adapted to his new, larger form. Combined with the soft celestial glow emanating from his body in the constant Feywild twilight his efforts are less than ideal.
You all do your best to find cover and hide, and scant moments later a group of half a dozen individuals come into view. Four have drawn weapons, the other two are browbeating their pack animal, a giant snail, into cooperating. They have a rabbit-like appearance, yet stand tall on two legs like humans. Karley recognizes them as harengons, like her friend kotokimi. Their leader holds up a hand to halt the group.
"Something spooked that crane. Have a look around," she ordered, her voice identifying her as female. She and her troupe scanned the area, seeking anything out of the ordinary.
Willow holds her breath as she hears one of them approaching her terrible hiding spot. She's just standing around the corner of the pillar supporting the old walkway. The figure that neared her spot would have no trouble spotting her if her took a couple more steps...
He stopped. "Jebbek, something broke a couple of the mushrooms free. And there's something here -- thought it was a rope but looks like webbing."
"Webbing?" Jebbek, as the leader seemed to be named, walked over. Their large hind feet seemed not to sink into the mud as badly as yours did. Willow was closing her eyes and silently entreating the Dreamwalker to keep her hidden. Jebbek looked at the remnants of web dangling from above, and the pile of it left over from Snook's harness. "Lots and lots of footprints, just as you'd expect from a leggy beast like a spider. Not sure I wanna meet one that big. Let's keep moving."
The band of would-be thieves takes their leave, watching the thick unicorn-butt-fog for any sudden spider ambushes, eager to be gone. They refrain from singing until they are well away, and you hear their voices fading into the distance.
Willow lets out a long, shaky breath when the group leaves her view, and she edges slowly around the pillar of the walkway, looking around for the rest of them.
"Holy shit, that was so close," she says, wide eyes staring down the path where the odd, singing group had wandered off to. "We should pick a direction and go."
"Well...I believe the Khalil-spider wanted us to follow him, barring any other clever ideas, I think we should do just that." Vash says in a hushed tone.
Reaching up and tipping his hat at Vashrin, Khalil-spider points a single long leg in the direction of the crashed balloon he saw from the causeway. He does his best to move quietly through the trees in order to avoid alerting any other swamp denizens that may be lurking nearby.
Willow follows Khalil's lead, attempting to mimic his stealthy, spidery movements as she walks behind.
With a course of action seemingly decided, Vashrin follows along, trying to remain hidden to any foes who may be watching. Unfortunately for the young bard, there are too many new things around splitting his attention and he is not nearly as hidden as he would like.
You proceed to the east, taking extra care to do so quietly while that band of harengon might still be around. It's difficult, though -- the swamp around you feels oppressive and foreign, and more than a little bit spooky, and several of you find yourselves longing for a bit of conversation to distract you.
Perhaps an hour passes, though it is hard to say. There doesn't seem to be a sun here, just constant twilight showing through the fog. The terrain ahead shifts. You seem to be right along the edge of a divide, with denser trees to the south, and deeper water with sparser trees to the north.
Sammy points towards the trees, making his choice. He's more than fed up with all the water getting inside his boots.
On roll 20, thought everyone joined us back at the beginning of the game =)
Khalil-spider does his best to follow a straight line toward the crash site, but the lack of any sun, moon, stars, or major landmarks makes the effort a challenge. When forced to choose between deeper swamps or denser forest, he decides drier is better and points to the south
You all press on through the dense mangroves. The ground is still wet here, with frequent puddles that must be waded through, but it never seems to come up past your shins.
Before long, Khalil's spider form fades, and he returns to his less leggy form. Walking on only two feet takes a few seconds to get used to again.
As you all pause a moment for him to adjust, your boots ceasing in their constant squelching through the muck, you hear something...
"Help. Please help." The voice is deep, but seems remarkably unemotional given its plea for assistance. It repeats its calm, measured request again and again, pausing a short while in between each time.
Vash stops in his tracks, listening to try and pinpoint the location of the rather calm plea for help.
Willow follows along, having wanted to head that direction anyway, and pauses along with the others when she hears the sound.
"Remember that everything isn't what it seems," She says quietly, her eyes narrowing. She looks around, attempting the same as Vashrin - listening for the location rather than poking around.
Moving through the lower canopy of the dense forest, Khalil-spider finds himself enjoying the freedom to so easily leap from branch to branch or simply climb a little higher or lower to find a suitable path across a wider gap. Fortune blesses him as he is only a short distance up when the change hits. Mistaking the sudden queasiness for some sort of arachnid indigestion, he is quite surprised when stepping for the next limb, he instead finds himself grasping the wide branch with two very, limited, very human hands.
"Whaaa!" He yelps, sliding free of the branch to land with a muddy splork onto the ground below. He coughs once, twice, and finally a third time before spitting out a sticky wad of gray-white webbing. Strands of the stuff linger on his chin when his hat, feather rustling in the dense swampy air, slowly spins downward to land upon his face.
"I guess there's a limit to how long I can do that." Comes a muffled voice from beneath the hat.
Picking himself off the ground, he adjusts his hat. His apple red cheeks puffing with welcome relief when the distracting call for help echoes through the woods.
"Still a damned handy trick." Vash says with a grin, while patting the now former spider on the shoulder.
Sam pats Khalil-human on the back as a show of gratitude, then moves his head to point their target, offering help in case his friend feels dizzy.
"That was quite the impressive ability. My master had once told me of those who can change shape; blessed by the primal forces they were. Perhaps your respect of the Feywild and time within it has granted you such a blessing?" Nuruk says, helping brush off his new comrade as best as he could. The smell of the swamp was beginning to cling to all of them, even with Nuruk's ability to repel the stagnant, dark water away from himself.
The call for help, albeit one without passion or real distress, demanded investigation. Swallowing his fear down once more, the paladin would look to the others and try to offer a reassuring smile.
"I am not...uhh...one of the most quiet types. I'll take the lead. May the Light show mercy on any who think me alone and a fool." Nuruk would wink, a hand on the haft of his greataxe strapped to his back as he began to approach the pleading voice with growing importance.
Returning the kind words of his companions with a smile and a simple quiet word of thanks, Khalil follows Nuruk and the others in search of the person in need of aide...or the trap ready to ensnare foolish travelers.
You all approach the voice with caution, and you finally come into view of the source of the voice.
A moderate sized tree, trunk as wide around as one of Nuruk's legs perhaps, is tipped over and leaning at about a 30 degree angle to the ground, having ended up propped against a neighboring tree. Its roots have pulled free of the marshy, soft earth, and are currently wriggling sinuously, looking like a mass of snakes and worms.
The tree has a face.
A long, gnarled nose protrudes from the trunk, under two heavily lidded eyes. It does not seem to have noticed your arrival, and merely repeats "Help. Please help," again. It's mouth looks like a long knotted section of bark when its mouth is closed. Were it not for all the calls for assistance and the roots, you might walk past and never realize it wasn't a normal tree.
Willow's eyebrows shoot up to meet where her horns start at the sight of the tree, and she approaches carefully, her hand hovering near her shield in case she needs it. "Uh... what can we do to help you, friend?"
The strange sight stop Nuruk for a moment but when Willow moves forward, she finds the paladin at her back as he looks over top of her.
"You look like you're listing lazily to the left there, friend. Are...are you alright?" He asks along with Willow, his hand leaving his axe to appear a bit more welcoming. It did helpt that it was a tree and he could breathe fire as well.
Approaching cautiously, Sam listens to the living tree's explanations while having a look for himself. You're never too cautious.
Khalil sweeps his hat from his head and bows to the leaning tree. "Greetings O' ancient one of the wood. As my companions have said, how may we be of aide, but of equal importance, what brought you to such a state?" He says ending by planting his hat firmly on his head. While waiting for the tipped treant's response, he ponders what it might take to pull the leaning tree upright again.
He was perfectly fine trying to talk his way through things with the folk of Waterdeep, but a conversation with a tree was outside of Vash's expertise, so he chooses to remain silent for the time being, perfectly happy for Willow, Nuruk, and Khalid to take the lead on this one.
The tree roots stopped wiggling, flaring outward in seeming surprise. "Ah. Little animals. Please help. I seem to have come loose. I do not wish to wither." All spoken as calmly as his pleas for help had been.
Sammy noticed no signs of ambush. Karley could not figure out why a hag would shove a tree over, but who knows? Spite maybe? Khalil knew that in the Feywild, trees could often become sentient in one form or another, in a variety of ways. This tree surely would perish without the nutrients it needed from the soil. As for how to arrange that, if they could only un-tip him, it looked like his roots would be able to get a better grip on their own, the way they moved.
With apparently no immediate danger around, Sam looks to his friends seeking for confirmation and nods, putting his hands to the job.
"Well, that shouldn't be too hard I imagine." Nuruk says, swinging his backpack around to open it up and procure a length of rope. Stepping closer to the tree, he would reach around and begin tying off sections to make it easier to pull without breaking the tree's branches or harming its bark.
"You seem like a strong tree, friend. What is your name and how'd you get so loose?" Cinching the rope, the dragonborn would wrap his hands in it and offer any remaining length to his fellow defenders. None of them were quite as strong as he was but more hands never hurt on a task like this.
"We are going to pull and try to get you back into the ground. If it hurts, please let us know and we'll stop, alright?" Looking towards his friends, he gives a nod. "Ready? Heave!"
Seeing Nuruk struggle, Vashrin moves to the other side of the sentient tree and pushes while Nuruk and Snook pull.
Not being the burliest of folk, Khalil's effort to help pull the tree upright is minimal at best. He did, of course, manage to somehow give himself a rope burn during the struggle after forgetting to put on his gloves before getting started.
Willow grabs the end of the rope to add her strength to the yank, whispering a quiet prayer to the Dreamwalker for Guidance.
The tree creaked and groaned as you all pulled, but slowly, surely, began to tip upright. "I am called Maarr. I was traveling and in my hurry, I moved too quickly." Your muscles strain, but after a minute or two, you all manage to help him stand once more.
At his full height he's about two to three times as tall as Nuruk. He's an elm tree, with a bushy top that's flattened on one side now, many of the leaves on his left having soaked in the water long enough to become soggy and dead. You've seen healthier looking trees, but his voice still seems strong enough, if monotone.
"I was trying to travel to Thither."
Maarr swayed gently as he wormed his roots into the wet earth, then his wood groaned as he angled himself to look at Karley. "Hither was not always this way. It used to be drier. A lush forest. Then Bavlorna came."
Khalil nods his head in sad agreement with Maarr's desire to move to a drier climate. When the living elm mentions Balvorna, Khalil looks thoughtfully at the now upright tree.
"Balvorna that is the name of the witch who has taken over this patch of the Feywild. Is it not?" He looks around, worried about potential prying ears and eyes. Surely the hag has plenty of spies lurking about her realm. Still...nothing to be gained by silence if we spend our days wandering this accursed swamp. He debates within before finally forging ahead.
"You should know that her sister, another of the Hourglass Coven, rules in Thither. Thus I am not certain you will find that realm any more inviting, but I would wish you well on your journey."
"But a boon I would ask in return for setting you aright on your path again, if you would be so kind." He tips his hat back a bit upon his head and looks up at the tall treekin. "Would you tell us how to find the hag who rules Hither with such waterlogged dreams? We wish to see her in an effort to bring her to account for the thefts, treacheries, and malevolent misdeeds done to ourselves, our loved ones, and others we call friends. Perhaps even get her to let the land dry a bit so good elms once again have a patch of fine solid ground to sink their roots into."
As the others talk, Nuruk inspects the dead wood that still remains upon the tree. Reaching out, he runs a hand along it and sees if the pulse of life still hums from within it.
Willow is content to let the others speak, frowning at how easy her fellow defenders were with throwing the name of their foes around--she was superstitious in that way: names held power.
Maarr slowly blinks at Khalil. "I am not certain. Only that she dwells somewhere to the north. I wish you well, if that is your intention. Perhaps someday I can return to my grove and it will no longer cause root rot."
Nuruk does indeed sense life yet within the damaged portions of the tree, and suspects his healing would be of use.