Healer stands from the table, ducking his head slightly out of habit. He then grabs his second untouched drink and slowly shambles over to the bard's table. From the outside it looks like a painful process.
When he arrives at the table he takes a seat, and slides his untouched drink over to the bard. Folding his hands on the table in front of him.
The bard gives Healer and Thokein a once over, then he chuckles, “Friendly lot now aren’t we? Inquisitive too I see. Good. Come, come gather in.. you too Gobbler ...come over here and listen for I have a proposal for you all and it contains a bit of gold, a healthy dose of glory, and a chance to help some folks in dire need” he concludesmerrily.
"Well I was just telling my friends that I am very interested in these trees you spoke of. Would you happen to know the nature of these trees? Are they coniferophyta or angiospermae? Would you classify them as gods? Do you think they could be chopped down? Are they immortal? I have so many questions, but I will really need to see them for myself. Do you know where they are? Does this proposal of yours get us close to those trees? How much gold are we talking about?"
With a visible effort Angie stops herself from asking more questions and tries to settle back in her seat. She nervously takes a giant sip from her first mug of mead and splutters a little, but puts it down empty. Two more to go.
"I got carried away again. This is all just so fascinating."
“Ha! Ho! Somanysplendidquestionsyoungoneandyes, Gobbler,thelandislivingindeed. Allsourcesof magic come from the land and all magic is the land, in Trudvang that is. Alas, the trees are not gods though, nor are they immortal Angie, but they do live a long time and some have been know too.. well.. wander off.. even after being rooted for many a year.”
The storyteller pauses and makes a hand gesture for more mead. You all look towards the bar where the smitten red haired bairmad is leaning on the counter, busy making eyes at Thokein. The bard snaps his fingers and the young maid is startled back to reality. Embarrassed, she quickly brings your table two more bottles of mead, blushing again as she sets the cups down.
”Now, to answer some of your more important questions. This journey will indeed get you close to the trees Angie, in fact I hope you will discover what has been ailing Wildheart for many an age and presumably take corrective measures. At the very least I would like you to find my friend Elmtounge and lend her your aid. She has been trapped in the forest for quite some time you see. And to answer your question my dear Thokein, I will pay you each a sum of 250 gold for services rendered and of course I am sure you will find other lost treasures along the way. But, I must warn you again... Trudvang is not Toril, it is a vast, dark, and wild place... and magic there, may work a bit differently than you are used to. Despite all this Trudvang is quite undeniably beautiful, I believe you will love it...” andwith that the bard sighs and begins to appear homesick.
”If you agree to these terms we will leave immediately at dawn, but please take a few moments to decide.”
Angie looks skeptical. "Magic from the land? Based on my research and experiments, dirt is not in and of itself magical. Maybe there is something special about this dirt? Maybe it is dieficaceous earth?"
She takes a brief gulp from one of her remaining mugs and continues, "Regardless, I'm very interested in taking part in this expedition. Regarding the payment, I hope at least some of it will be paid up front, because there are some supplies I would like to get if we come upon a merchant in our travels."
The storyteller laughs at Angie’s questions. “Who am I to say what makes Trudvang itself magical? I believe this is something you will have to determine yourself young one. And as for payment..” the bard reaches to his belt, removes a small worn leather pouch, and places it before you on the table saying, “Here is some of what was promised.. you should know in Trudvang coins are rare... trade mostly depends on the bartering of perishable goods, services, and precious materials.”
You open the pouch and inside find 8 polished stones. They are pure black and shine when the light hits them. (Each of you may add 2x onyx stones worth 50Gp each to your inventory).
”Now then, I am off to bed. Enjoy the rest of your evening in Toril, because at dawn we leave for beautiful Trudvang! Oh, and please enjoy the rest of this mead... it is so delightful... I have already taken the liberty of getting you two of the best rooms available. Goodnight to you all!”
The storyteller nods his head at your thanks Thokein and heads towards his room.
At this point in the night you have all had a few drinks (except Healer), it is not yet, but getting close to midnight. Your two rooms have been paid for by the storyteller, but you still have a bottle of mead left. What would you like to do?
Thokein, please add a bottle of mead to your inventory.
You all retire to your respective rooms. They are plainly decorated, but quite, clean and comfortable. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into a deep slumber thanks in part to the mead and merriment of the evening. Some time after you fall asleep you begin to dream. In your dream you smell fresh salty air, feel a light cold breeze on your face, and hear the sound of waves harmoniously crashing, though a blanket of darkness surrounds you. Some time passes and the dream becomes lucid. The darkness begins to ebb and give way to light. The light slowly becomes brighter and brighter, until it causes you to rub your eyes. Finally, you see that you are seated on a narrow bench in a small wooden craft. You look around and see that your companions are also in the craft. You nod and smile to each other. Seemingly out of nowhere a large wave hits the side of the craft and causes it to rock violently. The shock of the impact jostles you from your seats and causes you to bump into each other. With the pain of the impact comes the realization that you weren’t dreaming at all. You look at each other in disbelief. Somehow during the night you were all spirited from your beds and transported onto the small craft. Now fully awake you take in your surroundings and notice for the first time that the craft is not steering itself. At the helm is a weather beaten, dark haired, and broad featured man. He looks at you and says in a raspy voice, “Wellnow! Yerawake.. itsabouttime!”
Each of you please make a Constitution saving throw (this will determine how you are feeling after that little ride).
Thokein and Angie feel nauseated from the magical transportation to this foreign body of water. Having spent most of her life with her nose in books, Angie was ill prepared for a night of mead drinking, followed by a morning on a suddenly churning sea. Thokein and Angie look at each other and gulp, but Angie cannot keep it down. She tries to take a deep breath, but quickly leans her head and shoulders over the side of the boat. Gripping the wooden sides she throws up the mead from the night before. Though, after that she is feeling quite better.