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"Were it that we had more time to prepare against such a potential foe. But we shall do our best to free your village of this oppression. I'm sorry we could not arrive before your demise Edric."
He waves his hand and the tip of his spear near the corpse. "May you walk among the animals and sing upon the breeze in your new life."
Bowing his head, Gentlestorm carefully considers their options. "We could bring dried leaves to create smoke. But I feel that'd be too obviously playing our hand for the Bee-man."
Alessandria catches his eyes particularly, "Might you have a way to pacify them when we meet should things turn for the worst, beyond simply incinerating them?"
"My way is not a way of peace. Flames burn, claws tear."
"Like, does anyone have any flayleaf? I know, like, smoking usually kills, but maybe here it can start saving?"[/]b Kilitsi suggests. [b]"What if we put the leaves in something so it wasn't obvious? Do we have paper we could use to, like, make a present. Though if the bees are reporting back, Vernon may already know we're here."
Edric directs you to the town's workshop. Divided into several rooms, this workshop provides space for carpentry, milling, and blacksmithing as needed. It’s also a storage space for tools, including artisan tools for woodworking and smithing, as well as a superb repair kit. Most residents have learned to handle bees unprotected, yet there are three swarmsuits here for dealing with difficult hives. In addition, there are five handheld smokers for subduing bees.
UNCOMMON
Price 20 gp
Usage attached to explorer’s clothing; Bulk L
These thick, overlapping layers of clothing are coupled with a matching hat, outfitted with mesh netting around its wide brim to keep you safe from insects. You gain resistance 3 to physical damage from swarms. Explorer’s clothing altered in this way has a Dexterity cap of +2, check penalty of –1, and Speed penalty of –5 feet regardless of your Strength.
UNCOMMON
Price 1 gp
Usage held in 1 hand
Activate[two-actions] (manipulate): This device resembles a teapot with a trigger. When filled with cloth fuel (worth 1 cp) and lit, it smolders and gradually fills with smoke for 10 minutes, during which time you can squeeze the trigger to spray smoke.
Spray Smoke [one-action] (manipulate);
Frequency once per minute;
Effect: You expel smoke into an adjacent 5-foot square. All creatures in that area are concealed, and other creatures are concealed to them. The smoke lasts for 1d4 rounds or until dispersed by strong wind.
Once you are ready, you head into Amberhill's town hall. It is a single room with a peaked ceiling and exposed rafters. Simple wooden benches fill much of the space, leading to a low stage with a wooden lectern. The hall’s rustic charm is marred not only by the foot-wide holes punched through the walls, but also by the hives that bees have started constructing along the walls and ceiling. While many seem mundane, several hives have cells large enough to hold a wine bottle, as if incubating truly massive bees.
About a minute after you enter the room, a humanoid figure composed of hundreds of buzzing bees strides into the building. The figure lifts up off of the ground and alights on one of the rafters. His body buzzes angrily before his deep, droning voice issues a demand. "LEAVE. YOU WILL NOT MEDDLE WITH THIS ACCORD, AND I HAVE NO BUSINESS WITH YOU. GO NOW, WHILE I STILL ALLOW IT."
The goose looks askance at the bee man, but waits for a more friendly companion to negotiate.
Kilitsi swaps out her armor for one of the swarmsuits, hoping it will provide a little more protection. She shrugs at the smoker, though. "If I'm like holding my ax, I can't even..." she says, indicating she won't be able to use both.
"We, like, just want to make sure other people can go too if they want to," she responds to the bee man. She's not very convincing, however.
Alessandria takes a smoker as well, charmed by the mechanical facsimile.
***
"How have they broken your accord? They speak of tyranny and ill use."
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Keeping his hands free of any tools and knowing he'd tear through a swarmkeepers suit if he chose his usual battleforms Gentlestorm takes a spare smoker but ties the device to his belt in the meantime.
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"We would know more, as one set of guardians to another. Balance must be maintained and we seek to restore the natural way of things. But we do not wish to fight you if we do not have to."
"SOME HAVE TRIED TO BREAK THE ACCORD. THEY WERE DEALT WITH," the Bee-Man buzzes. "THIS PLACE BELONGS TO ME NOW. THE ONE CALLED EDRIC GAVE IT TO ME IN THE DEAL THAT WE MADE, AND I WILL DO WITH IT AS I WILL."
Wispil cocks his head and tries to figure out the best way to deal with the bee.
"But, Vernon, things, like, change. Like, you used to be a normal person, right, and now you're a bee person. If they want to end the deal, then, like, it's time to stop! Like, you can go your way without any problem, and the village can go back to its old ways."
"By what right could you possible be given this land? It was not there's to barter, nor can one man give over others to servitude. Speak with us, and we will see with which coin you will depart today."
"IT IS NOT MY FAULT IF SOMEBODY BARGAINS AWAY MORE THAN THEY INTENDED. THE ARRANGEMENT WE MADE WAS VERY CLEAR. BUT, IF YOU WISH TO ENTER YOUR OWN BARGAIN WITH ME, THEN I WOULD HEAR YOUR TERMS."
Wispil is unable to glean any insights, but Gentle Storm notes that the Bee-Man seems to adhere closely to the letter of any agreement he makes. He also seems to be interested in any mentions of occult power.
"It's against the nature of the humans to act like bees. I'm sure you are trying to improve their behavior, but I have the feeling your terrible power is too much for them," Wispil offers. "They're really pea brains, and too much magic around them just makes them go haywire."
"Maybe instead of working for you, they could just plant some meadows, and if they step out of line you can sting them to death!"
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"As I'm sure you know well Vernon, mortal folk are wont to misunderstand such grand beings as yourself and just how serious these sorts of deals are. We four chosen by the Wildwood itself seek to help them understand. But not with tooth and claw, but with compassion and a guiding hand. If needs must where we must step in to make things right we shall, for the good of the wood as a whole."
He bows his head slightly showing a respectful reverence. "As one who dwells here we are only trying to settle things with as little bloodshed and violence as possible, so that we may all stand together when fang, claw, and stinger are needed. Let us not waste more precious lives, please."
"Yeah, or maybe they can read, like, occult treatises for you or something," Kilitsi adds.
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"Understand this, Vernon. We will not be cowed , and we will not be tricked into a foolish bargain of our own. Speak with us with the respect which we have earned, and perhaps they way forward will not be littered with bodies."
"YOU NOT WEAK-WILLED FOOLS LIKE THE HUMANS WHO DWELL HERE," the Bee-Man buzzes. "PERHAPS YOU ARE MORE WORTHY OF RESPECT. WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO GAIN HERE? WHAT USE DO THESE HUMANS HAVE TO YOU, THAT YOU DESIRE TO PROTECT THEM SO MUCH?"
"We're trying to maintain the balance between people and nature. As amusing as it is to watch these bumbling settlers gather nectar, it is not the right way of things."
"Like, it's not even right to just hurt people and make them do things they don't want to do, Vernon," Kilitsi says, stumbling at first as she tries to make her point before finding her way.
"Tormenting them gains us nothing. Kill them, drive them off, or teach them."
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Listening intently to the others he harumphs at the harshness of Wispil and Alessandria's words hoping they don't color their overall opinion of the people, nor what sort of deal they'll be looking to make in the end. Instead he focuses and tries to help Kilitsi who seems to be the only one trying to be peaceful. "We cannot punish every mistake, when they have good intentions in mind. Although we cannot forgive every one either we must try."
"VERY WELL. I AM WILLING TO DISSOLVE MY PACT WITH THE PEOPLE OF THIS TOWN, BUT ONLY IF ONE OF YOU ENTERS A NEW PACT WITH ME IN EXCHANGE. THE TERMS OF THIS PACT WILL BE LENIENT. YOU WILL AGREE TO CARRY SEVERAL DOZEN OF MY BEES WITH YOU AT ALL TIMES, THAT I MIGHT OBSERVE YOUR ACTIONS AND ENSURE THEY DO NOT INTERFERE WITH MY OWN.
"DO WE HAVE AN ACCORD?"
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"Hmm that seems rather lacking in context or details, how might you wish us to carry your several dozen bees? How are we to know if an action of ours is not going to interfere with your own plans? We've seen what you are capable of and we each are capable of understanding that this is not meant to be a fair trade in any aspect."
Alessandria brushes past Gentle Storm's concerns by carving out the terms she requires. "The bees are responsible for their own safety and well being. We will not cozen them, nor allow them to harm us or those under our protection, but neither will we harm them through our own will unless they shall provoke us to that action. If they perish, we will accept replacements under these same terms."
Wispil eagerly hops from foot to foot. A swarm of bees would be an excellent addition to the group.
"THOSE TERMS ARE AMENABLE. I ASK AGAIN: DO WE HAVE AN ACCORD?" the Bee-Man buzzes.
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"Like, whatever. Bee more chill," Kilitsi says. "We'll take your bees, and you leave the town alone."
"THEN THE DEAL IS STRUCK," the Bee-Man intones. He holds out an arm, and a few dozen bees break away from his body to buzz around you and alight on your shoulders. The Bee-Man himself flies out of the town hall.
As you watch, hundreds, if not thousands, of bees fly towards him from all around Amberhill and its surrounding farms and fields. They swirl around in a giant, buzzing mass, many of them flowing into his body and seeming to strengthen him. With a final buzzing laugh, the Bee-Man flies off into the forest, honoring his end of the bargain and departing Amberhill!
A ragged cheer goes up from the fields where the citizens had been forced to toil. You have saved their lives, and they are eternally grateful. For saving Amberhill, its inhabitants reward you with what little the town has to offer: 193 gp and a snarling badger talisman. In addition, they offer all of the honey the you can carry, albeit with an acknowledgment that you may have lost your taste for the stuff.
"Ah, just what I needed to make a splash next time we go into town," Wispil admires the bees that have nestled themselves in around his wings.
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Looking quite harried by the situation Gentle Storm proposes that they all stay in Amberhill for a day to help finish righting things. The beginning of the next day he moves to the side of town and beckons the workers of the town there as well, where he feeling the slowly strengthening forest grant him another sliver of it's power, pulls up a large well of water, steaming and full of rejuvenating minerals for the townsfolk to soak in for a while. He beckons the group to enjoy themselves as well as they cannot be running ragged forever. At the end of two hours once everyone is evacuated from the spring it closes returning the land to how it was once before. Then the druid is ready to continue on back to their allies.
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Kilitsi shrugs as Wispil splashes around in the water and the bees take flight, heading into her fur, where they can find safety from the deluge.
"Like, there are so many of them. Do you think they have names?"
You return to Corazal's grove to rest and recover. Of course, it isn't long that before the conrasu delivers another prognostication through the interpretation of Emorga All-Seer: “A song, a dance, a rising curtain. A joyous crowd’s applause gives way to confusion and fear. The sun rises and sets, again and again, as the wide-eyed audience cheers for more yet awaits a curtain call that never comes. How long before comedy turns to tragedy?”
The prognostication's pull directs you towards Wispil. Wispil is Taldor’s largest settlement inside the Verduran Forest, boasting a population nearly entirely comprised of gnomes. As the home of the lumber yards responsible for supplying timber to the shipyards of Cassomir, Wispil is strategically important despite its remoteness. Logging operations here have persisted for nearly a century largely due to the protections and permissions granted by the Wildwood Lodge.
Traveling through the ancestor oaks, you soon arrive at the wooden palisade that surrounds the town. After a quick inspection, the gnome guards welcome you inside. It soon becomes apparent that one building in town, the Fairy Ring playhouse, has been cordoned off by more guards. They quickly explain the predicament:
A traveling acting troupe recently arrived, seeking a venue for their production of the “The Farriers,” a new satirical opera featuring a pair of bumbling stable hands who inadvertently shape the recent Taldan civil war through a series of comic misadventures and mistaken identities. Delighted, the Wispillians welcomed the performers. Yet as the curtain rose on opening night, Wispil discovered that their guests were satyrs and other fey in disguise, led by none other than the notorious Alacreon the Laughing Prince!
What followed was a terrible feedback loop. The fey had no intention of letting the evening’s entertainment end with a single performance, sealing the audience inside the playhouse. As the fey tired, their gnome audience became bored and demanded new performances. Both parties have become so entranced by the other that they can’t break free of their mutual figurative spells—even to the point of repelling rescue attempts while slowly starving. Complicating matters, the audience includes several influential figures: Mayor Dougal Greenbelt, Marquess Tanasha Starborne, and Dervin Feld, the lumberyard overseer.
Alessandria looks over to Gentle Storm with a barely disguised smirk. "It seems your paramour has caught his... ego in his own springe. Wispil, there is none I would trust more than you to break the mood of even the most captivating performance, shall we see what is to be done?"
"Like, does he want us to put on a play? I heard there's some group in Kintargo doing that, but, like, that's so hobbled," Kilitsi complains before realizing what the true situation is.
"Wispil, did they name this town for you?!" she asks, too distracted to focus on the real problem for the moment.
"It's a little fuzzy..." the goose replies. "My memory of my early life is a little vague. I think that I'm named for the town."
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Alessandria looks over to Gentle Storm with a barely disguised smirk. "It seems your paramour has caught his... ego in his own springe. Wispil, there is none I would trust more than you to break the mood of even the most captivating performance, shall we see what is to be done?"
"Oh hoho, Paramour you say?" Gentle Storm laughs heartily at the notion. "The wild is free to love and to love is to be free Alessandria. I would not try to tie down such a rambunctious lord of the wood from his nature forever."
He clears his throat, "But we should quickly assist all peoples in the theater. Tell me good sir, did it seem like any were under any real enchantment or is this simply neother party willing to back down?"
"We're not entirely sure," one guard replies. "A few audience members and most of the staff managed to sneak out the back right after the big reveal; they’re the only reason we have any idea what’s going on in there. We tried sending in a few rescue missions. They went in, and they didn’t come out. Figure they’re either dead or they’re in the audience now. Honestly, a week in, I don’t know which would be worse."
"A week of bad theater?! By Asmodeus's ankles...that must be some deep layer of the Hells." Wispil shudders, faintly disturbing the bees that nestle in his wings.
When you are ready, you enter the theater. A magnificent circular bar cut from a single slab of polished blackwood and decorated with intricate carvings sits at the center of this well-appointed barroom. In a far corner, several smaller wooden tables are clustered around a large stone fireplace. A small ticket-taker’s stand is positioned against the far wall next to a pair of ornately carved double doors, and the sounds of orchestral music, muffled singing, and occasional smatterings of laughter and applause can be heard from somewhere beyond. The room’s luxurious furnishings are designed for gnome-sized patrons, as the top of the bar rises barely two feet off the floor and the ceiling barely three feet beyond that.
A distinguished-looking gnome in a dapper red vest stands behind the bar, diligently wiping a pewter mug with a damp cloth. As you enter, he looks up and smiles cordially. "Hello, friends! Come on up and grab a seat at the bar--if you can fit!"
Wispil hops up on the bar top, "Thanks, friend. What kind of entertainment do you have going on here?"
”Oh, it’s quite the splendiferous performance! But, I can’t let anybody in until intermission. We don’t want to disturb the show! Why don’t you stay a spell, grab a drink or two, and relax a bit until then?” the gnome says, continuing to wipe the mug.
Snippets of faintly audible music from beyond the theater doors reach your ears...
"Meh, honestly I've heard better music, and we're in a bit of a rush."
"Like, this music isn't even that good. Is it even from this century, or is it just what fey listen to?" Kilitsi decides after listening for a moment.
Alessandria barely notices the tug on her mind. "They are weary, possibly at the last of the strength. Easier to defeat, harder to help."
The gnome shrugs. "Well, you know what they say. There's no accounting for taste. At any rate, I've got to insist you all stay here for now. Otherwise, things might have to get a bit... messy, if you catch my drift."
"Messy is as messy does," Wispil comments as he shrugs his wings and heads for the theater door.