Zefla nods to Sorens conclusion, "Yes, this ritual does seem more of a threat tonight than the other, I'm with you."

But as Soren starts in to Davian about his gratitude, Zefla's opinion of Soren changes.  She is impressed by his words and how forthcoming he is about the situation. Normally his way annoys her and makes her reconsider her life choices, but this was good and she smiles.

Burr is waiting at the door, their action is decided....more talk is just a waste of time....

For just the briefest moment his smile reaches his eyes......probably the first time since arriving in this place.....

At Soren's words, Davian stiffens.  The old man glares at the younger druid with dark eyes.  The rest of the Martikovs quietly slip away, as if concerned the old man might explode.

The he turns his back to Soren, breaking his gaze.  When he speaks, the words are conciliatory but the tone is strained.  "You are not wrong.  You've done much for us tonight, and more yet to come, and all for just a few barrels of wine.  I am in your debt.  If you reach Yester Hill and meet the Druids there in battle, I will see that you do not fight alone... one way or another.  You have my word."  The he steps back inside the winery.

Adrian and Elvir get the wagon and horses ready and depart for Vallaki.  They travel with you a short ways, until the path to Yester Hill Davian told you about forks off to the west.  They bid their farewells and wish you luck as they continue on the road and you peel off into the dark forests.

You approach without incident.  Along the way you pass a few collections of Twig Blights, withered and dead, piled up next to the path.

After a little more than an hour of brisk hiking, you see the looming shape of Yester Hill in the distance.  The trail through the thick woods leads to a lonely hill covered with dead grass and cairns of black rock.  Dark, ominous clouds gather high above, and a single bolt of lightning strikes the hilltop.  West of the hill, the land, the woods, and the sky vanish behind a towering wall of fog.  The map shows there should be a river down below, but to look at it, it seems the world itself ends here in a sea of mist.

Dirt trails run along two concentric rings of cairns that encircle the hillside. Each cairn is a ten-foot-high mound of slimy black rocks.

Atop the hill is a wide ring of black boulders and smaller rocks that collectively form a makeshift wall enclosing a field of dead grass. Lightning strikes the edge of the ring from time to time, illuminating a ghastly, fifty-foot-tall statue made of tightly woven twigs and packed with black earth. The statue is hard to make out from this distance, but it looks like some sort of winged beast, perhaps a bat.  In the flashes of lightning, you can make out shapes dancing about within the circle.

You seem to be unnoticed so far, standing at the path at the bottom of the hill.  But there is little cover ahead to conceal further approach.

" Shall we assume the dancers are druids, the statue is a big one of those twig things.....and they've already started the ritual?"

" I'm happy to charge in....might at least get them to stop the ritual for now.....what do you think?"

Burr looked eager to start smashing before the statue started moving under its own power....if that was the basis of what the druids were doing....

Soren would like nothing better than to charge in as Burr wishes.  Yet he pauses, studying the situation.

"My worry is that when we attacked the first druid in the fermentation room, there were others who joined the fight and proved elusive for a time, and they brought more blighted creatures with them.  We could instead circle the hill, looking for hidden enemies to pick off.  And yet, if the ritual has already started.  We may have very little time.  There is almost no cover we can use after once the trees end.  Perhaps behind the cairns?  I do mislike the lightning.  Shall one of us disguise ourselves as one of these disgusting dark druids and act as if they are leading us all here for the ritual?"

He has another idea, but his mind cowers away from it, whimpering.  Soren grits his teeth and forces him to think about it.  Fire.  If my home can burn, perhaps so can whatever foul effigy the betrayers have constructed for their foul ritual.  He gazes hard at the fifty-foot tall statue, attempting to discern whether enough of it is wood that it might burn, summoning his Wild Companion Nettle as he does, the owl blinking sleepily on his shoulder.

Soren Perception plus Guidance:  20 + 1 = 21
Nettle Perception at advantage due to Keen Hearing and Sight (but apparently still discombobulated from her arrival):  5
(To attempt to determine whether the huge statue might be flammable).

Zefla stares at the hill and their current situation runs several thoughts through her head.  "Well... it is very open out there, even with the cairns, but I can try to walk the outer circle, see if there is anything out there beyond what is going on in the circle.  I'll keep an eye on you all, if you feel you need to rush in.. I'll join you."

And unless someone objects, she starts going around the outer circle, using the cairns as cover as well as she can.

Stealth:  16

Perception:  10

Soren, the earlier rains have stopped, but things here are still quite damp.  The statue looks to be mostly wood, but it would take more than just holding a torch against it to get it burning, you think.  Magical fire would be necessary, or perhaps coating it the oil that city folk use to power their lanterns.

Zefla, you quietly circumnavigate the hill.  The hillside and the stone cairns are empty of threats, and the figures in the stone circle are too preoccupied with their dancing and cavorting to notice you as you creep from rock to rock.  From what you can see, there might be as many as a dozen figures in the circle.

As Zefla circles the far side of the hilltop, she sees that there is more past the stone circle.  There is a copse of sickly trees on the southwest side of the hilltop, with a great, gnarled and dead tree at its center.  

Altogether it takes Zefla 20 stressful minutes to work her way all around the hill and return.  As she does, and as she reports back on what she saw and didn't see, you all notice a fluttering of wings.  You see that in the trees around you, scores of ravens have gathered.

Soren gazes up at the ravens in the trees.  These must be Davian Martikov's promised allies, then.  Like the ravens in the fermentation room of the winery.  And the ones on the roof of the Blue Water Inn.  Fickle allies, but allies nonetheless.  Yet Davian is no druid.  I do not understand how he has sent them...

The half-elven druid listens carefully to Zefla's report, complimenting her cat-like stealthy scouting, then turns to Giles.

"Not-father.  As there is no cover on the hill, I do not know if even your primal Pass Without Trace magic will help us avoid notice, though it might.  In honor of your trickster Lady of Fortune, might we try a ruse?  Can you disguise yourself to appear as the leader of the dark druids in the winery?  We can then all wrap our hands in part of a rope those end you are holding as if you have bound our hands and are leading us up to be sacrificed.  It may lower their guard as we approach.  Of course, if they address you in druidic, then the deception will be revealed.."

(In case the party tries a deception like this, Soren will forewarn the ravens using Speech of the Woods so they do not attack a disguised Giles).

"Once we reach the ritual circle, I sense the huge dread wood and earth statue that is their focus is too damp from rain for a torch to set alight.  But..." Soren swallows loudly and closes his eyes for a moment as if suppressing a terrible memory.  "If any of you have flasks of oil or magical means of creating fire, we could douse the statue first, then ignite.  It may defeat their ritual or occupy them in trying to put the flames out."

Burr is vibrating with tension but trusts Soren as a brother.....so he waits and will pretend to bind his hands if that is what is chosen....

As you are standing, talking, working out plans, Giles starts to nod and a gleam comes across his eyes.  Soren is speaking his language, so to speak.  A big smile crosses his face as he starts to wave his hands, he says some words and using magic from his lady’s blessing, he creates a disguise magically for himself, transforming before your eyes into the appearance of one of the Druids in the winery, down to the tangled hair and bird poop on the top of his head, mud on his hands and feet.  The grin widens further still as he looks down at his arms and notes your reaction.  He pulls out of his pack a flask of oil, putting it in his pocket and his tinderbox in the other pocket.  He says to Soren, “I can create a simulacrum ((invoke duplicity)) for a minute to run up and splash oil on that thing and light it, or, if you want to step in at that point and light it up.  What do you think of that?”

Soren is not accustomed to engaging in duplicity, but somehow he had suspected that Giles would take to the idea.

"A simulacrum, not-Father?  Ah, as you did... once before.  yes, It should be the one to splash oil on and set ablaze the giant effigy that appears to be the focus of the ritual.  They will be suspicious of me.  The leader of the corrupted ones at the winery tried to recruit me for the ritual.  Perhaps you can tell them that you have found a new convert?  A 'hollow soul' (he called me that), ready to 'redeem' himself and join the 'true circle'.  Then I will confirm it in Druidic.  If they press you, here are the words of the corrupted druid that you can draw from in your deception, though it burns my tongue to utter:"

You're no unicorn fantasist, it is plain to see. Redeem thyself...  Join us... join the true circle, the true disciples of the land, of the ancient land!  The ritual is tonight!  The corruption will be given form, the soil shall drink the tears of the fallen, and the roots shall feast upon the rotting corpses of those who defy the eternal order!  Embrace our demise, for it is as inevitable as the cycle of the mists.  The ancient one laughs, and the land shall echo with the cacophony of the futile struggles of all that clings to life!  Embrace the darkness, for resistance is but a feeble plea in the symphony of perpetual decay...

The threads of fate weave a tapestry, and you stand at its frayed edges, helpless and ignorant.  Hah!  The ancient one demands his due, and the ritual will unfold, whether you wish it or not!  The earth trembles in anticipation, and the air reeks with the scent of impending doom.  Go there and see!  The ritual calls for willing and unwilling participants, both.  Choose, fool, choose whether to be marionette, or martyr, as you stand before the avatar of decay!

Soren takes the hempen rope from his sack and holds one end, passing the rest of the length to Burr and Zefla to wrap once loosely around their writs to make it appear that they are bound and that Soren is leading them - as if they are former companions who are now his captives.

Using Speech of the Woods, he informs the ravens not to attack Giles in his current form (nor any duplicate of him), nor Soren as they pretend to be in league with the dark druids.  They should attack when we attack (or are attacked), which we hope is after Giles' simulacrum can ignite the statue.

"Any other ideas, not-father, or shall we get on with it?"  Soren smiles at Burr and his eagerness and Zefla with her stealth.

"Perhaps decide on a key word all of us know that you can utter a few moments before attacking?  And whatever comes, may your Lady of Fortune, Tymora, favor us Giles, and Silvanus' give us strength to overcome this corruption of nature."

(For the duration of the walk, Soren will cast and concentrate on Guidance for Giles.  His plan is to cast and concentrate on Summon Beast so Thorn can join the fight once more just before combat starts, though circumstances could change).  Nettle sits on Soren's shoulder.

Burr follows as a prisoner, his rage building.....

"Prisoner?  Really?  Fine." and Zefla allows her wrists to be bound and smiles at Burr's rage.  She leans in to him, "Just you wait.. this is gonna be fun."

The ravens in the nearby trees take the direction from Soren in silence.  These aren't the same birds as the flock from the winery, Soren can plainly tell, and there is a cool edge to their demeanor.  These birds are professionals.

Soren follows Filthy Druid Giles up the hillside, with Zefla and Burr pulled along behind by their make-believe bonds.  The atmosphere is electric as the dark clouds, localized above the hill, continue to spark and fire occasional bolts done at the circle of standing stones.  The accoustics seem wrong somehow, as though you are inside a vast concert hall, rather than outdoors.  To the southwest, the soupy grey wall of mist looms like the end of the world.

As they climb, they pass through the concentric rings of cairns that circle the hill... burial mounds of some long-forgotten tribe or forest people.  Drawing nearer to the top, they can see that the ring of boulders that surrounds the wooden statue is 150 feet in diameter and the stones range from 5 to 10 feet high.  The path you are following runs through a gap in the stone wall, though the clearing, and out the other side toward the copse of dead trees.  

Inside the stone circle, you can see four of the wild druids dancing and cavorting at the feet of the statue.  Seeing it up close, you can confirm the statue is indeed fashioned in the form of a hideous half man, half bat monster, with wide wings made of moss and vines.  Another two druids sit beside a campfire, passing a dirty wineskin.  With them are 6 more humans, alike to the druids in unkempt and filthy appearance, but different in their decoration and armament.  These figures are adorned in hide armor and wield great axes.  They stiffly refuse the wineskin each time it is offered by the druids, which seems to provide the druids some humor.

As you approach, those druids by the statue continue dancing but the two at the campfire rise and move toward you, apparently at ease.  As they get within 15', one of them tosses the wineskin to Filthy Druid Giles with a gap-toothed grin.  

He speaks a bit of sing-songy nonsense to Filthy Druid Giles.

Soren:

 [You are near where the path enters the stone circle, about 50' from the campfire and 75' from the statue.]

Hearing the Druidic query addressed to Giles, Soren makes quick eye contact with the disguised priest of Tymora, as if asking permission, before speaking.  Soren remembers the nervous excitement he had felt when first meeting other circle druids as an adolescent in Neverwinter Wood and tries to channel that apprehensive and awkward, yet eager excitement in his demeanor.  He hopes that this causes any mistakes he makes to seem "natural."

In Druidic:

Soren is careful to speak no literal untruth (e.g. by "true circle" he really means his own circle back in Neverwinter Wood).  If for no other reason than his own sensibilities.  He looks back to Giles and then to the dark druids, switching back to Common, hoping his stated foreign origin excuses any gaffes.

"Tell me true, do others yet come to join your numbers?  Does the ancient one come tonight?  When shall the corruption be given form, the soil drink the tears of the fallen, its roots feasting upon the rotting corpses of those who defy it?  For that is why we have come.  I have more I myself can bring."

Soren looks eager to cast a spell as if wishing to show what he can bring to the ritual, but looks to Giles again, as if for permission.  In truth, the spell he will likely cast is Summon Beast to call a darker, dirtier version of Thorn, as if to subdue any who would oppose the ritual.

For now, Soren maintains concentration on Guidance, already cast.  Unless anyone stops, he continues to advance casually with the others.

Giles stands there beside Soren, an odd crazy grin on his face as he reaches underneath his filthy clothing and gives his scrotum a scratch, really digging into it as Soren begins to speak.  Giles laughs and then looks over at the dancing, cavorting figures and he starts to bob and sway, bouncing up and down, imitating their movements and acting like he’s going to begin to dance, saying “Woooo, wooooo , wooooo!”  acting in time and in kind with the rest.  He takes the wineskin from the Druid and in a practiced maneuver that he used with gamblers before he made the big bet, then acting as the Pious Father Giles letting his hair down, he tilts the wineskin back but artfully sticks his tongue in the opening, blocking the wine from rushing into his mouth, but letting a little slosh out as he brings it down, adding to his costume and odor.  

He drops the “bonds”of Zefla and Burr, seemingly turning over the captives in order to participate in the festivities.  He holds the wineskin, starting to move around with it, mimicking the others.  He really gets into it, at one point pausing to squat down, knees half bent, both arms up in the air, holding the wineskin up to the sky and the statue, as he lets out a forceful noise, sometimes laughing, sometimes shouting.  Next he bends down to the ground, pounding the earth with both hands, picks up the wineskin again, and moves around, starting to circle the statue.  As he passes behind the statue, he fingers the coin in his pocket with his Lady’s countenance on it, he makes another circle, periodically pounding the ground, then holding his arms up to the statue.  With each pass his eyes catch those of Soren, Zefla, and Burr, watching, looking for alertness, readiness…. Are you ready?

[All that is fine, but there is one roll that I need to ask for first...]

As Giles makes his 'pretend drink,' blocking the fluid with his tongue and letting a little spill out, he discovers in that moment that the wineskin is not full of wine at all.  It is a thick, earthy fluid, that leaves a taste like blood and raw chicken on his tongue and in his nostrils.  Worse, it isn't just disgusting.  He can spiritually sense something worse than foulness in this liquid... there is evil here.  Something about the preparation of this fluid was an act of unconscionable wickedness.

[Giles needs to make a DC 14 Deception check.  On a success, he artfully hides his disgust and is able to carry on with the rest of post #1236.  On a failure, he cannot hide an obvious and involuntary wretch when he discovers the nature of the vile concoction.]

((Using inspiration here, Lord knows he needs it.))

Deception : 18

[Success]

Giles dances away, joining the four druids around the base of the statue.  The two who had met the four of you at the entrance to the stone circle look after him in slight confusion.  They ignore Soren's questions for the moment, holding up a hand as one might to a loud and unwanted child.  They call after Giles instead in a language he [Giles] cannot understand.

Soren:

 Zefla and Burr, so far you have seen these two druids and Soren exchange conversation in some sort of code, and Giles danced away to join the party.

Soren's voice is purposefully awkward and conciliatory, as if a newbie covering for his new mentor who has joined the dance circle.  He speaks in Common., volunteering an "answer" for the question the dark druids have asked in Druidic to the disguised Giles.

"Even as we fought the druids in the winery at first, they all seemed oddly cheerful.  Almost celebratory as he is now, dancing.  Of course, of course I see that you would wish any convert and perhaps any animal servants..." (Soren casts Summon Beast and a darker, dirt and filth-covered Thorn appears beside him).  "... to partake of the unicorn slurry.  Then you wish to dismember the prisoners and use their blood as sustenance for the blight to strengthen the ritual?  I see, I see..."  (Inside, Soren's stomach is churning, but on the outside, he looks eagerly helpful).

He holds out his hand, as if ready for the wineskin, as if enthusiastic but in no rush.  The half-elven druid now retreats a few steps, as if not to seem to presumptuous to these "elder druids," though Thorn stays put.  "I and this beast here stand READY.  And as for these two, well..."

Soren glances at Burr and Zefla.  Thorn growls low and deep in his throat, plausibly (?) at the two, big and small, with ropes around their wrists.