The dryad spirit shrieks as Gentle Storm rips into it and Wispil blasts it. Alessandria follows up with a critical blast of fire, and with a final wail, the ghostly woman burns away!
With her defeat, the maddened loggers stumbling throughout the clearing return to their senses. They blink in confusion, having no memory of anything that has transpired over the past few days. Regardless, they are grateful to you for freeing them. Even Deegs Aggraive reluctantly agrees to return to Bellis empty-handed.
Within the hollow trunk of the tree are the shattered remnants of dozens of humanoid skeletons, many of them centuries old. Buried among these remains is a bag of holding (type 1) containing 38 gp and a wondrous figure (jade serpent).
"Well, it looks like this has been a dangerous place for ages," Wispil comments after the loggers leave. "I can't blame the forest spirits for being upset with loggers--who isn't!--but we've managed to maintain the peace, again."
"The darkest crevices of the weald hold many wonders, but some of them must be hunted too."
"Like everyone here was cud-chewers," Kilitsi complains. "You'd think they'd all know better."
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Gentle Bear seems to mourn the loss of the Dryad for a while even if she was driven mad, but he wonders exactly what ancient pact had been broken.
"I would like to question the foreman once we're back in his camp. I don't know if this ichor that has caused the rampaging is dealt with. But we will find out, and gather those we left along the way. Take care with those things from the hollow. I don't know any reason why there would be dead buried within like that and it unsettles me."
Your follow-up investigation reveals that the black ichor was a manifestation of the infectious hatred the dryads' spirits instilled in those they dominated. With the spirits dealt with, you shouldn't have to worry about any more berserk animals or humans.
The remains within the tree likely belong to the victims the dryads in the Grove of Tears claimed over the years.
ALyce Quinley thanks you for your help. "I'm sure you've many other troubles to deal with. May we meet again soon, hopefully under better circumstances."
***
After taking some time to rest and recover in Corazal's grove, the conrasu soon provides Emorga with another prognostication: A tiny town’s sweetness gives way to blood and fear. A name whispered on the wind, a covenant sealed, and a people doomed. Now a thousand thousand soldiers stand guard, each serving a woodland king humming decrees from a golden throne. One by one, the people falter and fall.
Emorga deduces that this prognostication is related to the town of Amberhill, a rustic community that specializes in beekeeping and honey production. You travel by tree to the woods nearby and head towards the town.
Amberhill occupies a mile-wide clearing just west of the Sellen River. A well-traveled dirt road skirts around the east edge of the town, connecting to Bellis in the north and other villages to the south. As you near Amberhill, you encounter a grisly scene: three dead jinkins. The gremlins’ tiny bodies are each swollen and have a sickly purple hue. Several foot-long quills are embedded in a nearby tree, and the scattered leaf litter suggests a lot of movement happened here.
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Gentle Storm takes the time to examine the grisly scene, all the while making little noise. He shuffles too and from gently pressing at the corpses to see tiny spurts of venom extrude from the wounds.
His face contorts after closely examining the quills.
"I know this patterning, Khasprickle." He speaks gravely "I can pnly hope that someone is attempting to frame him with his own spines."
Following back and stepping softly he kneels to examine the disrupted grass. "Don't think these tracks were made by men. They lack the hard soles in shoes that many prefer in these terrain. I'm no expert on the gait of centaurs, but this may either be them or Satyr tracks as well." he looks to Alessandria knowing she'd have a better gauge of that.
Lastly he looks to the trees on the other side of the clearing and pulls out the wand of animal speech and casts the spell upon himself, before quickly tucking it away.
"Greetings fair hive folk. We mean you no harm, and have come looking to provide guidance and defense to this place. Would you be so kind as to share with us what happened, that we may look into this matter further?"
The bees make no response to Gentle Storm's questions. They continue to stare in your direction. Gentle Storm can tell that the insects' strange behavior is due to some outside influence, but the source of that influence is unclear.
"I don't love gremlins, but this seems pretty brutal!" Wispil listens carefully to Gentle Storm's assessment of the situation. "Plenty of people who would frame Khasprickle, but he's also likely to get himself into trouble."
"To frame him they'd also need his quill." Alessandria points out, brow heavy with portent. "No need for the axe to fall before we learn more, but until some trickery is revealed, he fought here."
"Can you follow any of these tracks hence?"
"Ew!" Kilitsi exclaims, looking at the corpses. She nods at Gentle Storm's announcements, impressed with his skill at discerning all of that information.
She looks back behind them, making sure there's not something else that the bees might be looking at. "They're, like, even ruder than Khasprickle and Wispil," she whines.
"Maybe there are some tracks we should look for? If not, let's just leave them here and go talk to the village. Probably someone's making them do this, like everywhere else we've been."
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Returning to the group after the non-successful attempt at bartering with the bees he nods. "I can make an honest attempt. But the bees and their behavior is strange. I believe they are being influenced as the portent spoke."
He pads over to the prints in the trampled grass and kneels low using his spear as a walking stick. He takes wiffs of the track to see if any of them are familiar or particularly potent.
The tracks scatter in different directions, but all lead away from Amberhill. Following them would likely distract from your goal of seeing to the town's safety.
Once you are ready, you proceed along the path to Amberhill. Fields of wildflowers surround the town, and as you approach the tree line, you spot dozens of townsfolk crawling among the flowers. A few others are building new beehives, adding to the multitude of brightly painted wooden hives already here. As you get closer, you recognize that these workers are using needles to extract pollen and nectar from each individual flower and storing the harvests in flasks. They’re so intent on their work that they barely notice you until approached.
On spotting you, an elderly man who was harvesting pollen recoils in surprise, barely keeping his flask from spilling. After corking the flask, he stands and hoarsely whispers, “There’s nothing for you here. Get out while you can. If he hasn’t seen you yet, there’s still time. Go now, and never come back.” With that, he sinks to his knees and resumes his work.
"If all he has is bees, then we'll soon smoke him out. If you help us it'll be all the sooner."
"Like, 'he' who? We're not just going to leave you here," Kilitsi says with a huff.
Gentle Storm doesn't detect any magic in the area. The old man seems reluctant to speak further, but Alessandria's fearsome mien scare him enough to talk.
"I'd love to help, but I can't. Not with the bees here. Protecting us." He audibly scoffs. "Watching us. Listening to every word we say. And, well, if we get out of line..." He spits on the ground. "Some days I ask myself: do I deserve this? Is this what I get for all those years of letting the bees work in the fields all day and then taking their harvest for myself? Is that what he’s trying to teach us? Or is he just an evil bastard who likes watching us suffer?"
When Kiltsi asks who "he" is, the old man scowls. "The Bee-Man. Haven’t you figured that out yet? Who else would it be?"
"Bee-Man?" Wispil looks around at the fields. "Well, that checks out."
To the group, he says, "We should look into this more." But, he's careful not to say too much.
"...What?"
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It takes a few moments for the recollection to hit but Gentlestorm quickly places a finger over his mouth to quiet his companions. "A name we mustn't speak aloud. Not here at least, lest it draw him hither."
Bowing very lightly to the man he beckons the group elsewhere, that they might speak more privately.
"This bee-man is a local creature. Though even I do not know the veracity of his existence. But to speak his name is to call upon him and draw his ire. I think it best that if we want to call him out to find the source of these issues we should move away from the village that way the people are not caught in any ensuing happenings. But perhaps we can garner more information from him, or even discover what is causing this new state of matters."
Kilitsi nods. "Maybe we should make sure we have proper protection," she whispers .
As you prepare to continue on to Amberhill, you hear a cacophony of footsteps approaching through the woods. Three brutish, one-eyed, white-haired giants burst from the treeline about 100 feet away. They carry large axes and wear simple tunics, but each one howls with rage and pain as they swat at the hundreds of bees swarming around them and stinging them mercilessly. Despite that, they look up at the villagers gathering nectar with rage. The villagers cry out in alarm and quickly start to retreat behind you for protection as the giants advance!
The giants rush towards you, ending up just 25 feet away!
Wispil raises a wave of water around himself, then sprays it all over the giants!
for
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Gentlestorm watches as the people flee and the giants rush forward.
"Halt your aggression and you may yet be saved!"
To help send the point home he reaches deep into the gate that Wispil has opened up to the gate of elemental water and pulls forth his own torrent to crash into the stampeding giants.
1st 3/3, 2nd 3/3, 3rd 2/3
Alessandria unleashes her own gout of flame, first jabbing a ball of fire at Wispil's target, then covering the three giants and setting the water they're soaked in to a searing boil!
Seeing that Gentle Storm wants to give the giants a chance to surrender, Kilitsi waits, sizing them up.
Kilitsi recognizes the giants as fey called ohancanus. They delight in destruction. It’s not necessarily the sadistic torment of others they enjoy, but living in a devastated landscape seems to bring them peace. Scattered across their hirsute forms, each ohancanu has a few conspicuously white hairs. These are extremely sensitive and seem to anchor some part of an ohancanu’s essence, wracking them with nausea and weakness if ever plucked.
You quickly unleash elemental fury on the ohancanus! Battered with waves and scorched by flames, one of the trio falls, while the other two are badly injured! Your attacks have the added effect of clearing the stinging bees from the giants.
As thanks, the two remaining fey charge forward to attack! Kilitsi welcomes the first foe with a slice of her axe. Then the fey return the favor!
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Ushering the ebb and flow of life the multitude of flowers spring up in defense of Kilitsi blunting the deadly axes of the fey giants somewhat.
"You had your chance to give up and seek peace, but now it's gone!"
He plucks a shiny rock of cold iron from his pouch and flings a dozen or so tiny quills at one of the giants. Then strides a bit closer to the fighter.
Alessandria reignites her aura, sending a shrieking falcon to rake its fiery talons across both fey.
Wispil heals Kiltisi and takes a shot at one of the remaining creatures.
for
HP 75/75
AC 22
Fort +12, Ref +12, Will +9; Ancestral Geometry roll: xx (Reflex/Will/Fort)
Hero points: 3
Effects:
Kilitsi barely has time to register the pain before her companions have her back to full health. She smiles at the two fey. "All those white hairs? You're, like, looking so old!" She slashes out with her axe.
Wispil blasts one of the one-eyed fey, then Alessandria burns both them, her aura causing the flames to increase in intensity. Kilitsi swings her axe, connecting once and taking down a second fey, but Gentle Storm misses with his needle darts. Burning from Alessandria's aura, the final badly wounded ohancanu groans and collapses as well!
Even in defeat, the giant fey's presence attracts additional bee sentries. The bees crawl all over the fallen fey, patrol the area, and carry some of the dead bees off towards the town.
The tired beekeepers thank you while obliquely recommending you flee before the Bee-Man decides you live here...
The old man who spoke to you first shakes his head. "This all started with those rampaging fey. They attacked Amberhill, burning and killing while being led by some prickly gremlin riding a wolf. Edric—one of my neighbors—called on the Bee-Man for help and damned us all. We’ve traded death by fey for death by bees. The bees keep their end of the bargain, and we keep ours.
"Once he realized what he’d done, Edric tried to renegotiate. The Bee-Man wasn’t having it. Edric went into the warehouse, there was angry buzzing, and he’s not come out since."
He lets out a long sigh. "We've been flapping our lips long enough that there's no way the Bee-Man doesn't know you're here. I hope it was worth it. You’ll never leave this place alive."
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Working his jaw for a moment and stroking the long tufts of hair that comprise his beard the druid responds to the not quite threat calmly. "If that's what the forest wills, then it shall be. But we are her champions and through us she acts. So if this Bee-man resides in the warehouse then we shall put an end to this farce now or die trying."
He begins looking around for the warehouse in question and begins making his way towards it, stopping short to converse with the others if they wish to do so.
"We'll see about that," Wispil honks over his shoulder at the old man as he follows Gentle Storm.
The tiny town of Amberhill is made up of modest wooden buildings surrounding what must have once been a busy and vibrant central marketplace. Now the streets are eerily still and silent, as if the entire population had vanished overnight. Silent, that is, save for the constant drone of insect wings from the town hall. At any time, several bees buzz or rest nearby, always seeming to study you.
Other than the houses and town hall, the most notable structures are the warehouse and the workshop.
"Yeah! If he thinks he can keep us here, well, he's going to get a pointed lesson. Sharper than a bee's sting!"
She stalks toward the warehouse.
A rectangular barn stores various supplies for the community, most notably its honey, wax, and small-batch mead. There are several hundred jars of honey sealed with wax and stamped with Amberhill’s name and the harvest year. 14 wooden casks lined with cloth contain beeswax for candles and export. 20 small casks contain mead of average quality brewed over the past few years.
The warehouse attracts hundreds of bees, not because of the honey but because of their new hive. A middle-aged man's corpse is draped over a roof beam, his body partly hollowed out and transformed into a macabre beehive.
As you are investigating the grisly scene, you hear something strange. The drone created by the bees' wingbeats seems to be forming words. The words are slurred and come sporadically, but something is definitely trying to communicate with you...
"Like, what are you even saying? You need to be way louder if you want us to understand you!" Kilitsi scolds the bees -- but in an almost encouraging way.
The buzzing becomes stronger, and you can now make out the words. "Beware... The Bee-Man... He controls the town... I made a bad deal... Tried to change it... He killed me for my defiance..."
"How long has this man been dead?"
The man hasn’t been dead for more than a few days.
"Should we try to renegotiate our own deal? With...the buzzy guy?" Wispil avoids saying the Beeman's name.
"Did you, the bees, make a bad deal or Edric?" Kilitsi asks, trying to understand what's happening.
"I am Edric," the voice clarifies. "My spirit lingers here, but not for much longer. The pact I made with the Bee-Man was that his swarms would patrol and protect Amberhill, and in return, the people of Amberhill would assume the bees’ usual workload. But I underestimated how much he would work the townsfolk, and the bees turned on anybody who refused or attempted to flee. It was a deal made in desperation, and one I quickly regretted, even more so when he killed me for trying to renegotiate.
"The Bee-Man now lives in the town hall. You might try to make a new deal with him. He may be sinister, but he is honest. But be very careful in the terms you agree to. You may gain an advantage if you invoke his true name: Vernon Vestha. Otherwise, only force might chase him away. Whatever hurts bees can hurt him, including smoke."
The goose glances at Alessandria, "Well. We'll be bargaining from a strong position."
"Should we head straight for the town hall?"
Alessandria smiles wickedly, "I'm certainly not afraid to use force."