"Like, why do they have SO many extra toes? I think it's unclean, really, if you have even a single cloven hoof, and they have like five cloves."
She pulls out her ax, just in case.
Alessandria grunts agreement, glaring back at Gentle as if he's to blame for all ten-toed crimes.
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You glean some more insights, but not enough to reach a new threshold of knowledge.
***
The next day, you travel through the Elder Oak and make your way east several miles through the forest to site of the supply depot. This storehouse was one of many in the Verduran Forest. Magically constructed of stone, it’s a multi-room structure with a single entrance blocked
by a metal gate. The building is overgrown with dense vegetation.The metal gate is ajar. Inside, the floor is coated in dirt and other filth, and tenacious plants grow along walls and flagstones.
"There are plenty of creatures beyond man, that share ten toes. Why I once knew a quite rambunctious Possum..." He looks about to trail off into a tale but Alessandria's glare sets him back on the 'correct' path.
"Right. A moment let's see what the hearty friends here have to say about the recent intrusion."
Gentlestorm, firmly nestles his spear nearby and whispers to the foliage near the gate.
"Why hello there friends of the green, it seems your home has been disturbed before us. Would you happen to know more about those who came and trespassed here recently?"
The ferns whisper back to Gentle Storm. "They were a human. They forced open the gate and went inside the building. They came back out a short time later, carrying something. We haven't seen any other humans since then, but wyverns now use this place as a nest, flying in and out of a hole in the ceiling."
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Gentlestorm nodded to the plant, though it wouldn't really mean anything to the tiny thing. "Thank you for your aid, we shall help as we can."
Turning to his companions he frowns, "Men were here, I would suspect under the command of Ruzdoya but perhaps even those outside of the forest seeking a way to defend themselves. Either way Wyverns await us inside."
"Ugh, wyvern. I suppose we still have to go inside to see if anything remains," Wispil complains. He raises up his elements in preparation for entering the building.
Kilitsi thinks about what she knows about wyverns. It's a lot.
Conversation is of little interest to a wyvern, as the creature typically speaks only to taunt their prey, issue territorial claims, or demand tribute. Even so, many wyverns enjoy grim humor and tales of violent acts, particularly if those acts were committed by the storyteller. A wyvern properly appeased with meat, entertainment, and treasure sometimes agrees to provide assistance ranging from giving directions to serving as a mount for a powerful humanoid. However, these arrangements rarely last more than a few weeks before the wyvern's pride, malice, or insolence inspires them to flee or even betray their allies. Only the truly cruel can cow a wyvern into servitude for an extended period, as most wyverns are so self-interested that they go out of their way to avoid helping others.
You quietly sneak into the building, heading into the central tower. The ceiling and wooden stairs within this tower collapsed long ago, leaving it open to the sky. A mound of debris and plant matter is heaped in the center of the room. This is the wyverns' nest, but they don't appear to be present at this time. Stairs lead down to large chambers to the north and to the south.
"Nobody home? Good. Let's poke around before they get back," Wispil urges.
Alessandria sighs. Wyverns might be easier than stairs, but she's practiced, and trots down quickly to the north as well.
Kilitsi nods and looks toward the sky for a moment before heading south. Realizing everyone else is going the other way, she turns around and follows
The area to the north is sunken 5 feet into the ground, making it cooler and an ideal location for storing food long term. The food and sundries stored here turned to dust millennia ago, but many clay pots and jugs remain, empty save for musty residue.
A search of the area reveals one of the flagstones is carved with the image of the Goroth Lodge. Prying it loose, you turn it over and see a partial map is carved into its backside.
"What's that even for?" Kilitsi asks, holding the map upside down.
"Hopefully the rest of the map isn't too far."
"Torag's turds...who puts a map on a rock?!" Wispil lets one of the bulkier party members carry the map, and flaps back toward the south room.
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"A druid likely. One who understands that the earth will weather time better than any man-made structure."
He motions to all the things that have rotted away in this place as if to justify his point.
"Kilitsi, would you be a dear and keep that flagstone safe until we find the others that will no doubt complete the map?"
The southern room is an austere yet messy armory that has been plundered. Rusted weapons sit on fragile racks, armor and shields lay strewn across the floor, and remains of long-deteriorated arrows are mounded in open-topped barrels and crates. A layer of mold and fungi coat most surfaces in this room.
Wispil notices a loose panel in the north wall that's slightly ajar. It conceals a hidden closet lined with shelves, mostly bare save for a few valuable items: a suit of +1 resilient leaf weav, two moderate antidotes, a scroll of insect form (4th), a greater clay sphere, a moderate necrotic cap, and a vine whip (viper vine). There are also two strange seed pods. A close study allows Gentle Storm to identify them as seeds of a cythnophorian, the type of fungal creature that took over Valenar the Green's body during the slaughter at the Greenwood Gala!
"What should we do? Kill it with fire?" Wispil gives Alessandria a sidelong look.
"Like, yeah," Kilitsi says, agreeing with Wispil's plan. "Those things are bad news."