Chapter 5: Reunions and Rebuttals

[Pulpatoon]

With Simon and Bürd in the lead, the now expanded party descends the stairs. Eighter and Maya quickly shuffle themselves between these two and Hake, and Ebba takes up the rear.

Where do Marcus and Gizzy position themselves?

Where do you guys go, and what path do you take there?

[KingOfCowards]

I may want to confer with my fellow players about where to lead them. I definitely want to show them the heart of the tree where all the corruption is going on. Do we hit the fungus room that we burned out? We really don't know what to expect from that area after the fire. Definitely more dead bodies, which has not impressed this crowd all that much.

[MonkeyWrench]

If possible Marcus will lead.

I'm content with showing them everything, but priorities are definitely with the heart of the tree and that fungus room we killed the knight guy in. Is there any point in showing them the well that you two found the treasure in?

[KingOfCowards]

I don't think so. Let's take them to the heart first. Whichever wall is easier to get over is the direction we will take.

[mb.]

I reckon since we went in first and were the last down there, Silom & Bürd are probably the most sensible ones to lead at the moment.

IC, Bürd's a bit confused why we're going down in there again, since Simon and Bürd were just there and are convinced the place is empty. OOC I guess we're just hoping one of them knows something we don't? Anyway, I'd say the thing to show them is the heart, so let's go around to the right and avoid the other rooms...

[Pulpatoon]

Ebba sets her bow and arrows down in the Grove. "No point in taking those underground."

Eighter lights two hooded lanterns, keeping one, and passing the other to Gizzy to hold at the back of the party.

Simon and Bürd lead the party down into the complex under the tree. As you make your way to the central chamber, the adults are properly appreciative of just how disgusting, dank, and creepy the environment is.

Eighter: "Y'saw some fighting down here? Wager that was nasty work. Ugly business, tunnel fights."

Everyone wraps up on your instructions when entering the puffball chamber, and carefully follows your footsteps.

Eighter: [1d20] = 3
Maya: [1d20] = 11
Ebba: [1d20] = 18
Hake: [1d20] = 2

Ebba stumbles and pops a puffball. "Watch it you great clumsy cow!" yells Hake. The spores spread out, and she begins to cough, but everyone is too wrapped up to take damage.

Coming to the heart chamber, it is as Simon and Bürd left it earlier: The toadstool-encrusted oak heart beats irregularly.

Ebba, still wiping tears from her eyes and hacking up spores: "That... what is that? It shouldn't be like this, should it? What was it like before?"

[MonkeyWrench]

Marcus speaks up, "We found it like this, right before the black ooze attacked us and we were forced to run, there we found out it's weakness was sunlight. You are right though, no living thing should be like this..."

[Pulpatoon]

Maya: "What happens when you scrape that stuff off the heart? How delicate is the heart? Can it stand up to a good scrubbing?"

[mb.]

Bürd shrugs, "we hannae tried that ma'am."

[KingOfCowards]

"That oily mold is a paralytic. It numbed Bürd's and my hands, so that when we came down here the first time there was nothing we could do. But, now that you mention it, the numbing effect could be what's giving the tree such a hard time."

[Pulpatoon]

Eighter straps on a pair of heavy leather gloves, and pulls out a knife. He walks up to the heart and gives it a tentative poke. The toadstools writhe. "The fungus don't like the touch of iron, eh? Tha's a sign of... aw, whaddaya call it... magic, but a kind of magic. From not-here." He begins scraping away at the heart, his knife blade grating along the ridges and bumps of the hard oak heart. Bits of fungus fall to his feet, where they curl and whither. "It's coming off alright, but it ain't thorough. See?" In the groves and ridges of the heart, black lines of mold persist, and the entire surface is speckled with filled-into pin-prick-sized pores full of mold. "I reckon the heart will 'ppreciate the cleaning, but this ain't a permanent fix."

Hake: "Why bother? Nothing about this is right and natural. Trees don't have hearts! Let's chop that monstrosity down and burn the whole thing and be done with it."

[mb.]

Bürd grins, "I'm thinkin' it's fey is what it is Eighter, an' if'n that be the right of it, I reckon I've got me an idea..." Bürd sits on the floor to try to scrape together something like iron filings: laying a scrap of cloth down, he takes a rough rock to one of his hatchets, scraping the rock along the sharp edge and collecting whatever falls on the cloth. "If'n I kin collect enough of this, we smear it all over it an' kill them shrooms dead. Y'kin do the same an' make light work of it. An' you kin shut yer fool mouth Hake, if'n yer not wantin' t'be burned down yerself."

Is there a sensible roll for doing this, or is it auto-succeed given enough time?

[Pulpatoon]

No need for a roll.

Everyone chips in, even Hake after Maya and Eighter give him the skunk eye. After several turns of vigorous scraping, the collected company has produced a small dusting of iron.

Hake: "We'll be at this all day before we get a fart's worth. It'd be faster to head back to the village. I have rasps and files and pig iron—hell, I've got shavings and fillings swept up in piles on my floor."

[mb.]

Bürd laughs, "I never thought t'see the day Hake Smith makes hisself useful. Mind yerself Hake, y'might start enjoyin' it. 'Less someone's got a better notion, I reckon we does as Hake says, just this once." He winks at Hake, hops up and hands Eightee the cloth, "might as well try what we made so far an' see what it brings."

[Pulpatoon]

Eighter takes the cloth, looks at it dubiously, and pats it onto the throbbing heart. The heart appears unaffected. Eighter pats the cloth around the heart like a powder puff before shrugging and stepping back. "Long as we're headed back to town, I wouldn't mind picking ol' Ravengard's bonebox about this. If his library don't have a book on something like this, it'll be a first."

[KingOfCowards]

Simon looks to Ebba, who seems to be a bit more knowledgeable about this tree, "So what do you think?"

[Pulpatoon]

Ebba shuffles her feet a bit, avoiding eye contact before responding to Simon: "You follow the old ways, don't you? Gods that don't sit above nature, but are tied to it. The old magic, the really old nature magic is... not pretty, not sweet, there's no little cherubs painted in the old temples.

"The deer eats the grass, the wolf eats the deer, the worm eats the wolf, and the flower eats the worm. All that lives is nourished by something else dying. Blood magic." Pointing to the heart, she continues, "I've never seen something like this before, and I don't want to be wrong on a matter like this, but I warrant that wants a washing."

[MonkeyWrench]

Marcus, "I don't know anything about the old ways of magic or the new... I am just a simple man looking to protect the ones he cares for, his town and his friends. What I do know is that growing up this tree and grove were places of almost magical tranquility, a place of goodness. If removing that black fungus from the heart will heal the tree and return the grove to it's rightful state then I say lets get it done." He looks to Maya for some form of approval as a student towards his teacher.

[Pulpatoon]

Maya rolls her eyes. "Zounds, Ebba. And are you some mistletoe-chewing backwoods druid, now, that you know so much about the old magic and treehearts?"

Hake: "It's a bunch of rot! Wash it in blood? Human sacrifice? Issat what you mean? Like as not yer carved up as a cultist under those breeches." Hake starts to move towards Ebba, "Show us yer ain't."

Eighter intervenes. "Hake, you idiot. We checked everyone before we left the village. Stand down. But, aye, I don't see any reason to act on Ebba's hunch. What do you say we head back to town?"

Ebba's face burns, and she turns away from the group. She mutters, "I only offered when asked."

[KingOfCowards]

Simon ponders what Ebba says, not at all appalled by the thought of blood magic. This very tree may have been fed by the blood of prisoner sacrifices, a common enough practice long, long ago. Yet somberly, he answers. "I think there has been enough bloodshed for today."