Berry flits up to the shallow windows, but their lack of depth or width allows only a narrow field of vision through each of them. Craning to take in as much as he can, the fairy scans the low buildings across the lane in front of the cottage and around the hill in back, seeing trees, ruins, a wedge of blue sky. The silence and lack of motion are complete for a full minute. There is no sign of whatever made the shadow.
Then, barely discernible over the beating of his own heart, Berry hears another distant sound through the thick glass. Trickling pebbles, a kind of grinding noise, very faint, distant. Then, nothing.
(OOC: This is Berry’s action instead of poking with a stick.)
Perrin approaches the pallet, perhaps kneels close. (OOC: and rolls a 22 Medicine check: success!). The moths seem oblivious to his presence, and now it seems to the halfling that the subtle rising and falling… the shape of the quilt of moths… this is a human, lying upon the pallet, breathing shallowly, covered by the multitude of insects.
"Hello?" [Perrin] tentatively says, trying to indicate that he means no harm while steeling himself for an attack. "If you're injured, I can help, if you'll just permit me a quick examination."
After a long moment of silence, Perrin’s words elicit the slightest response. One end of the tapestry of moths shifts slowly… to reveal… an eye! It looks into the middle distance, unfocused, then slowly, slowly shifts to view Perrin. The quilt of moths shifts some more, and now, a nose, lips… part of a human face is revealed. The skin, what there is of it, seems scarred, blotchy, as if scrubbed off by a metal brush. Small facial muscles and ligaments are revealed too, frayed and damaged. Not a zombie. But might as well be. The scarring is terrible to see.
(OOC: Does Perrin continue with his healing spell?)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Here goes nothing," Perrin mutters to himself, as he extends his child-sized palm toward the carpet of moths, hoping to disturb the mat of furred antenna and papery wings as little as possible. A brief pulse of soft silvery light momentarily flashes from the outstretched hand, almost as tentative as Perrin is, and it washes over the recumbent form, (hopefully) compelling sinew and flesh to knit themselves back together.
Target recovers 6 HP from my Healing Light use. Expenditure noted on sheet.
Maten stands near the door, with his crossbow still aimed at the mass of moths. He thought that the obstacles outside indicated that this was the druid's home, and he hoped that it was Reidoth on the pallet. Maybe a flock of moths was the druid's idea of a comfortable blanket for an afternoon nap? When enough of the moths part to reveal part of a face, Marten lets out a audible gasp. The moths seem to be covering a badly-injured or perhaps a diseased person.
But perhaps it's just some other strange monster in this ash-cursed town? Marten tries to clear his mind and focus on the "target" under the moths in case it is hostile. He's still holding a ready attack if the moth-covered figure attacks anyone in the party.
A brief pulse of soft silvery light momentarily flashes from [Perrin’s] outstretched hand..
The staring eye seems calmed by Perrin’s spell. It flutters shut, and all motion beneath the blanket of brown-winged moths gently halts. One wonders for a moment if the spell had worked in reverse, robbing what little life was left of the covered human. But a few seconds later, a deep inhalation!, and the eye opens again, finding Perrin almost immediately, and then catching sight of Berry, Vidruth, and the others.
The ivy stem which had unlocked the door has been drooping woefully near Marten’s shoulder since the party entered the cottage, two of its mitten-like leaves interlaced like an elder wringing her hands in worry. But when the moth-covered form inhales so deeply, the ivy stem turns toward the pallet, or seems to, and the two leaves part and rise upwards for a moment, as if in praise.
A cough comes from the man beneath the quilt of delicate wings and antennae, and a word.
Unable to get a good view of what had happened outside, Berry turns to inspect the state of affairs below him. It seems that Perrin had made an effort to heal the creature hiding under the moths, which now begins to stir and even asks for water. Berry nods to Nosam, saying, "Go ahead. What harm could come from letting a thirsty fellow take a sip?" Berry glides down from the skylight and takes a closer look at what Perrin unearthed from under the moth blanket. His eyes widen. "By Tymora's grace! Is this another zombie or truly a person?"
vidruth gestures, and draws water from his waterskin, which floats in a stream to the injured mans mouth where he can easily drink it (shape water) "ive got it nosam" he says with some concern "probably best if we keep out of his face, wouldnt want to upset the moths" he tuts as he looks down "something made a right mess of him, acid maybe?"
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This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic byVitaly S Alexius
The man — for man it is — sips just a few drops from the stream Vidruth sends from his waterskin, and now, his body begins to rustle, causing the moths to shift out of the way, some of them fluttering up in a chaotic cloud, then landing upon a nearby wall.
His entire face is now visible. That part not covered by a patchy beard looks scarred, terribly damaged. Misshapen like a candle left over a hearth, the wax melted away. The skin is blotchy and almost white in some of these scarred places. In other places a healthy tan, though slightly faded.
He looks to the ivy plant near the entrance, and in a dry, grainy whisper, says, “I thought you were guarding the door. Didn’t I say keep it locked?”
The plant makes a long series of slow gestures. The man grunts skeptically in reply.
“He said they’re friends of Qelline Alderleaf?,” he asks the plant, which seems to nod. The man’s glance shifts to Marten questioningly, after himself nodding a curt ‘thank you’ to Vidruth.
vidruth waves off the thanks "i dont know about friends, but we speak, and she gave us directions" he says somewhat dismissively "sorry, but i didnt catch your name?"
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This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic byVitaly S Alexius
Berry remains silent, observing as the moth mound comes to life. Like a plant in a drought, the druid—Berry presumes—seems to rejuvenate with Vidruth's water before starting to speak to his? plant. A plant companion?
"I'm Berry," he replies unsolicitedly and blurting out, "We are indeed friends of Qelline. And it was she who... in wishing to help us find a place... ahem... she told us to look for you." Pausing for a moment, Berry reconsiders, "Well, she told us to look for a druid. Here, in this forsaken town of all places. And you're one, a druid I mean, aren't you?" He raises his shoulders and hands slightly to express his confusion and with a turn of his head, as if scanning the town from side to side, adds, "Why would anyone come to and stay in a place like this? Full of sneaky plant monsters and explosive zombies?"
“He said they’re friends of Qelline Alderleaf?,” he asks the plant, which seems to nod. The man’s glance shifts to Marten questioningly, after himself nodding a curt ‘thank you’ to Vidruth.
When the man sits up (and it's obviously a human) and seems to recognize Qelline Alderleaf, Marten finally lowers his crossbow. It takes him a moment to consider how to respond to this man, but by the time Berry finishes his rambling introduction, Marten's lips twitch with a hint of a smile. Marten decides to reassure the scarred, but he does not approach, remaining by the wall next to the door (and the ivy). "My name's Marten. As 'e said," nodding to Vidruth, "we've been stayin' in Phandalin th' last couple o' weeks -- before we set out t' come t' Thundertree, that is. Qelline Alderleaf is a friendly 'n' familiar face to us in Phandalin. She's a wise un 'n' runs a fine farm."
Marten tries to get to the point of their current need and their presence in Thundertree: "Ms. Alderleaf's advice helped us clear out a gang o' murderous ruffians from Phandalin, but now we're tryin' t' find our friend and employer, Gundren Rockseeker. He was taken by th' Cragmaw Goblins, 'n' we mean to find 'im 'n' save 'im, if he's still alive. Mrs. Alderleaf said th' druid, Reidoth, might be able t' help us, 'n' she told us to look for 'im here in Thundertree."
Marten raises his crossbow slightly, perhaps unconsciously, as he asks, "Now you have my name, per'aps you'd share yours. We don' want trouble. We're jus' tryin' t' find Reidoth." He watches the man intently to determine his reaction and see whether he gives an honest answer. (Insight22)
The man’s gaze shifts among the party, following each person as they speak — or don’t speak. When Marten concludes his introduction, the figure shifts slightly, then looks down at his chest and whispers a few words. The moths there flutter away as well, landing on a wall or fluttering around Perrin’s magical illumination. The man eases himself up on an elbow, and then with an effort, twists into a sitting position, propping himself up weakly against the wall.
His shirt — light brown cotton, of the type available for pennies, with large holes ripped or burnt through it — is now visible, although many moths still cover his legs like a cinnamon-brown throw blanket with delicately traced patterns.
"Maybe we should give Reidoth a moment to gather himself. He looks like he's in rough shape," Berry suggests to the others. Then, disregarding his own suggestion, he turns to Reidoth and asks, "What happened to you, anyway?"
With no reason to doubt that this man is Reidoth, Marten lowers his crossbow and then cradles it in his arms near his waist. He agrees with Berry. Reidoth is in rough shape, and maybe they need to give him more time to gather himself. Marten is generally happy to sit in silence, even in the presence of friends or strangers. But he tries to say something more just to give Reidoth more time to collect himself before the druid needs to say anything to them.
Marten starts talking from his spot by the door. He doesn't look directly at Reidoth now and looks around the room as he speaks. He says, "This place is eerie. Not your cottage, mind y', but th' whole town. I hope y' don' mind that we've been clearin' th' buildings as we came: we were attacked by some dry shrub-lookin' monsters 'n' then some explodin' zombies, as Berry said. As I was sayin', we think th' Cragmaw Goblins took Gundren Rockseeker to a place they call 'Cragmaw Castle.' We don' know where it is, but Ms. Alderleaf thought you'd know. That's why we're here in Thundertree. We hoped you could take us there or jus' tell us where t' find it." He's not sure whether Reidoth is listening or in any condition to help the party, so he doesn't ask directly at this time. But once he makes the implied request, he finally glances back at Reidoth to see whether the man seems to have recovered at all and is in any condition to talk with the party.
Perrin is visibly relieved when the injured man announces himself as Reidoth. He happily defers to the others as they elaborate on their expedition, content to watch the moths flutter around the illuminated head of his staff. As Berry inquires about the druid's wellbeing, Perrin pipes up again, "Yes, I'm happy to heal you a bit more. Anything that might make you more comfortable, ease your pain." He trails off there, and encouraging smile still lingering on his face, waiting to learn more.
“Thank you,” the man tells Perrin. “The moths have been healing me. Slowly. Kept me alive. Your healing was much faster.”
It's not so much that he's too wounded to speak. Reidoth, you learn over the next two hours, is a man of few words. When he speaks, his sentences are brief and to the point. But you can tell that he’d rather not be making sentences at all. Still, with many long pauses between statements, and after Berry and Marten ante up, winding the springs of conversation, the druid tells you the tale of Thundertree.
Apparently, he’s been here several times over the last few years, with greater concern each time. The place holds some kind of mystical power – the nature of which he says he does not understand – which is why people settled here to begin with, and why a wizard set up his tower here in this town rather than hiring a keep in Neverwinter or Waterdeep. When the volcano erupted a hundred miles to the north, this was the only inhabitation ruined by the falling ash. What drew this terrible fate, the druid does not know. “Not natural,” is all he says. Perhaps the wizard in the tower tried to control some unknown magic beyond his power to control and drew a curse upon not only himself, but all the inhabitants of Thundertree. Whatever the reason, the ash zombies came into being as a result of that doom, and the animated plants too, which Reidoth does not take credit for having created.
But the Emerald Enclave has tasked Reidoth with keeping tabs on Thundertree, and so he does. In his prior visit, he noticed an increase in the number of zombies and twig blights, and posted the sign you saw advertising the risks of entering the ruins. “More dead adventurers? Just more zombies in a few weeks.”
Even worse, his present visit. When he arrived a few weeks ago, Reidoth found that not only had a young green dragon taken residence in the old wizard's keep – another cataclysmic event for the region which he states with the same laconic miserliness he does everything else – but there are also cultists who have taken residence in the ruins in order to worship the powerful wyrm.
The melted skin? It becomes obvious to you that Reidoth tried to reason with the dragon so that it would abandon Thundertree in favor of a roost farther from civilization, and that the acid burns covering Reidoth’s face and body were the dragon’s way of saying, no thanks. “If you’re smart, you’ll get out, quick,” he says. Indicating that he either thinks himself too stupid to follow his own advice, or that he is incredibly brave.
“Bad time,” he says, the full summary of his thoughts about current events, including the moment of your visit.
“Yes, I know the way to Cragmaw Castle. Tangled in the forest and easy to get lost." Best if he could lead you there, but he does not feel inclined to do for two reasons. One: he’s mostly dead. And two, his duties to the Emerald Enclave include discouraging chaotic evil flying fortresses from taking residence this close to a city. He needs to keep worrying that problem.
Later in the glacially slow conversation, however, he tells you, “This is the way to Cragmaw Castle.” He describes a location 25 miles due north of Phandalin, in the dense southern end of the Neverwinter Wood. You'll have to return the way you came, circle the bottom of the woods on the triboar trail, then head west again into the woods. "Or, get lost."
Having said this, you see his eyes fluttering. "Water... the plants...," he says, finally, and in a moment he is asleep again, and the moths return, even taking leave of Perrin's light, to cover the wounded druid completely once again.
(OOC: Perrin's medicine check, we will say, told him that Reidoth really does need a lot of rest.)
Berry listens with excitement to the druid's account. A green dragon! I've never seen one. Perhaps, I could catch a glimpse before we leave? How majestic it must be! Lost in his thoughts for a moment, Berry continues to listen as Reidoth gives directions to Cragmaw Castle, but his final comment leaves him discouraged. Getting lost? It seems Reidoth is quite certain we won't find the way without his help. Maybe we need to assist him first, so he can come with us?
Turning to Reidoth, Berry asks as if the request was directed at him, "Which plants?" But Reidoth is already snoring. Louder this time, he repeats, "Which plants should we water?" Then, turning to the group, he asks, "Do you think he would come with us if we found a way to make that dragon leave?"
Nosam has remained silent through most of the dialogue back and forth, carefully listening to the information being provided. "I have some more water to help with the plants if ya need." he tells Berry. "And how you suppose we get the dragon to leave, ask nicely?" Nosam chuckles trying to make light of the situation. "I don't suppose it would hurt matters if he chose to tag along with us; he'd likely prove to be useful, especially when he's back to 100%."
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Berry flits up to the shallow windows, but their lack of depth or width allows only a narrow field of vision through each of them. Craning to take in as much as he can, the fairy scans the low buildings across the lane in front of the cottage and around the hill in back, seeing trees, ruins, a wedge of blue sky. The silence and lack of motion are complete for a full minute. There is no sign of whatever made the shadow.
Then, barely discernible over the beating of his own heart, Berry hears another distant sound through the thick glass. Trickling pebbles, a kind of grinding noise, very faint, distant. Then, nothing.
(OOC: This is Berry’s action instead of poking with a stick.)
Perrin approaches the pallet, perhaps kneels close. (OOC: and rolls a 22 Medicine check: success!). The moths seem oblivious to his presence, and now it seems to the halfling that the subtle rising and falling… the shape of the quilt of moths… this is a human, lying upon the pallet, breathing shallowly, covered by the multitude of insects.
"Hello?" [Perrin] tentatively says, trying to indicate that he means no harm while steeling himself for an attack. "If you're injured, I can help, if you'll just permit me a quick examination."
After a long moment of silence, Perrin’s words elicit the slightest response. One end of the tapestry of moths shifts slowly… to reveal… an eye! It looks into the middle distance, unfocused, then slowly, slowly shifts to view Perrin. The quilt of moths shifts some more, and now, a nose, lips… part of a human face is revealed. The skin, what there is of it, seems scarred, blotchy, as if scrubbed off by a metal brush. Small facial muscles and ligaments are revealed too, frayed and damaged. Not a zombie. But might as well be. The scarring is terrible to see.
(OOC: Does Perrin continue with his healing spell?)
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
"Here goes nothing," Perrin mutters to himself, as he extends his child-sized palm toward the carpet of moths, hoping to disturb the mat of furred antenna and papery wings as little as possible. A brief pulse of soft silvery light momentarily flashes from the outstretched hand, almost as tentative as Perrin is, and it washes over the recumbent form, (hopefully) compelling sinew and flesh to knit themselves back together.
Target recovers 6 HP from my Healing Light use. Expenditure noted on sheet.
Maten stands near the door, with his crossbow still aimed at the mass of moths. He thought that the obstacles outside indicated that this was the druid's home, and he hoped that it was Reidoth on the pallet. Maybe a flock of moths was the druid's idea of a comfortable blanket for an afternoon nap? When enough of the moths part to reveal part of a face, Marten lets out a audible gasp. The moths seem to be covering a badly-injured or perhaps a diseased person.
But perhaps it's just some other strange monster in this ash-cursed town? Marten tries to clear his mind and focus on the "target" under the moths in case it is hostile. He's still holding a ready attack if the moth-covered figure attacks anyone in the party.
A brief pulse of soft silvery light momentarily flashes from [Perrin’s] outstretched hand..
The staring eye seems calmed by Perrin’s spell. It flutters shut, and all motion beneath the blanket of brown-winged moths gently halts. One wonders for a moment if the spell had worked in reverse, robbing what little life was left of the covered human. But a few seconds later, a deep inhalation!, and the eye opens again, finding Perrin almost immediately, and then catching sight of Berry, Vidruth, and the others.
The ivy stem which had unlocked the door has been drooping woefully near Marten’s shoulder since the party entered the cottage, two of its mitten-like leaves interlaced like an elder wringing her hands in worry. But when the moth-covered form inhales so deeply, the ivy stem turns toward the pallet, or seems to, and the two leaves part and rise upwards for a moment, as if in praise.
A cough comes from the man beneath the quilt of delicate wings and antennae, and a word.
“Water…”
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
Nosam gets out his waterskin and approaches hesitantly. "Want me to give him a sip and see what he has to say?"
Unable to get a good view of what had happened outside, Berry turns to inspect the state of affairs below him. It seems that Perrin had made an effort to heal the creature hiding under the moths, which now begins to stir and even asks for water. Berry nods to Nosam, saying, "Go ahead. What harm could come from letting a thirsty fellow take a sip?" Berry glides down from the skylight and takes a closer look at what Perrin unearthed from under the moth blanket. His eyes widen. "By Tymora's grace! Is this another zombie or truly a person?"
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
vidruth gestures, and draws water from his waterskin, which floats in a stream to the injured mans mouth where he can easily drink it (shape water) "ive got it nosam" he says with some concern "probably best if we keep out of his face, wouldnt want to upset the moths" he tuts as he looks down "something made a right mess of him, acid maybe?"
This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic by Vitaly S Alexius
The man — for man it is — sips just a few drops from the stream Vidruth sends from his waterskin, and now, his body begins to rustle, causing the moths to shift out of the way, some of them fluttering up in a chaotic cloud, then landing upon a nearby wall.
His entire face is now visible. That part not covered by a patchy beard looks scarred, terribly damaged. Misshapen like a candle left over a hearth, the wax melted away. The skin is blotchy and almost white in some of these scarred places. In other places a healthy tan, though slightly faded.
He looks to the ivy plant near the entrance, and in a dry, grainy whisper, says, “I thought you were guarding the door. Didn’t I say keep it locked?”
The plant makes a long series of slow gestures. The man grunts skeptically in reply.
“He said they’re friends of Qelline Alderleaf?,” he asks the plant, which seems to nod. The man’s glance shifts to Marten questioningly, after himself nodding a curt ‘thank you’ to Vidruth.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
vidruth waves off the thanks "i dont know about friends, but we speak, and she gave us directions" he says somewhat dismissively "sorry, but i didnt catch your name?"
This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic by Vitaly S Alexius
“I didn’t catch yours,” comes the hoarse response.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
Berry remains silent, observing as the moth mound comes to life. Like a plant in a drought, the druid—Berry presumes—seems to rejuvenate with Vidruth's water before starting to speak to his? plant. A plant companion?
"I'm Berry," he replies unsolicitedly and blurting out, "We are indeed friends of Qelline. And it was she who... in wishing to help us find a place... ahem... she told us to look for you." Pausing for a moment, Berry reconsiders, "Well, she told us to look for a druid. Here, in this forsaken town of all places. And you're one, a druid I mean, aren't you?" He raises his shoulders and hands slightly to express his confusion and with a turn of his head, as if scanning the town from side to side, adds, "Why would anyone come to and stay in a place like this? Full of sneaky plant monsters and explosive zombies?"
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
When the man sits up (and it's obviously a human) and seems to recognize Qelline Alderleaf, Marten finally lowers his crossbow. It takes him a moment to consider how to respond to this man, but by the time Berry finishes his rambling introduction, Marten's lips twitch with a hint of a smile. Marten decides to reassure the scarred, but he does not approach, remaining by the wall next to the door (and the ivy). "My name's Marten. As 'e said," nodding to Vidruth, "we've been stayin' in Phandalin th' last couple o' weeks -- before we set out t' come t' Thundertree, that is. Qelline Alderleaf is a friendly 'n' familiar face to us in Phandalin. She's a wise un 'n' runs a fine farm."
Marten tries to get to the point of their current need and their presence in Thundertree: "Ms. Alderleaf's advice helped us clear out a gang o' murderous ruffians from Phandalin, but now we're tryin' t' find our friend and employer, Gundren Rockseeker. He was taken by th' Cragmaw Goblins, 'n' we mean to find 'im 'n' save 'im, if he's still alive. Mrs. Alderleaf said th' druid, Reidoth, might be able t' help us, 'n' she told us to look for 'im here in Thundertree."
Marten raises his crossbow slightly, perhaps unconsciously, as he asks, "Now you have my name, per'aps you'd share yours. We don' want trouble. We're jus' tryin' t' find Reidoth." He watches the man intently to determine his reaction and see whether he gives an honest answer. (Insight 22)
The man’s gaze shifts among the party, following each person as they speak — or don’t speak. When Marten concludes his introduction, the figure shifts slightly, then looks down at his chest and whispers a few words. The moths there flutter away as well, landing on a wall or fluttering around Perrin’s magical illumination. The man eases himself up on an elbow, and then with an effort, twists into a sitting position, propping himself up weakly against the wall.
His shirt — light brown cotton, of the type available for pennies, with large holes ripped or burnt through it — is now visible, although many moths still cover his legs like a cinnamon-brown throw blanket with delicately traced patterns.
“I’m Reidoth,” he says.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
(OOC: Marten’s Insight roll tells him nothing.)
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
"Maybe we should give Reidoth a moment to gather himself. He looks like he's in rough shape," Berry suggests to the others. Then, disregarding his own suggestion, he turns to Reidoth and asks, "What happened to you, anyway?"
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
With no reason to doubt that this man is Reidoth, Marten lowers his crossbow and then cradles it in his arms near his waist. He agrees with Berry. Reidoth is in rough shape, and maybe they need to give him more time to gather himself. Marten is generally happy to sit in silence, even in the presence of friends or strangers. But he tries to say something more just to give Reidoth more time to collect himself before the druid needs to say anything to them.
Marten starts talking from his spot by the door. He doesn't look directly at Reidoth now and looks around the room as he speaks. He says, "This place is eerie. Not your cottage, mind y', but th' whole town. I hope y' don' mind that we've been clearin' th' buildings as we came: we were attacked by some dry shrub-lookin' monsters 'n' then some explodin' zombies, as Berry said. As I was sayin', we think th' Cragmaw Goblins took Gundren Rockseeker to a place they call 'Cragmaw Castle.' We don' know where it is, but Ms. Alderleaf thought you'd know. That's why we're here in Thundertree. We hoped you could take us there or jus' tell us where t' find it." He's not sure whether Reidoth is listening or in any condition to help the party, so he doesn't ask directly at this time. But once he makes the implied request, he finally glances back at Reidoth to see whether the man seems to have recovered at all and is in any condition to talk with the party.
Perrin is visibly relieved when the injured man announces himself as Reidoth. He happily defers to the others as they elaborate on their expedition, content to watch the moths flutter around the illuminated head of his staff. As Berry inquires about the druid's wellbeing, Perrin pipes up again, "Yes, I'm happy to heal you a bit more. Anything that might make you more comfortable, ease your pain." He trails off there, and encouraging smile still lingering on his face, waiting to learn more.
“Thank you,” the man tells Perrin. “The moths have been healing me. Slowly. Kept me alive. Your healing was much faster.”
It's not so much that he's too wounded to speak. Reidoth, you learn over the next two hours, is a man of few words. When he speaks, his sentences are brief and to the point. But you can tell that he’d rather not be making sentences at all. Still, with many long pauses between statements, and after Berry and Marten ante up, winding the springs of conversation, the druid tells you the tale of Thundertree.
Apparently, he’s been here several times over the last few years, with greater concern each time. The place holds some kind of mystical power – the nature of which he says he does not understand – which is why people settled here to begin with, and why a wizard set up his tower here in this town rather than hiring a keep in Neverwinter or Waterdeep. When the volcano erupted a hundred miles to the north, this was the only inhabitation ruined by the falling ash. What drew this terrible fate, the druid does not know. “Not natural,” is all he says. Perhaps the wizard in the tower tried to control some unknown magic beyond his power to control and drew a curse upon not only himself, but all the inhabitants of Thundertree. Whatever the reason, the ash zombies came into being as a result of that doom, and the animated plants too, which Reidoth does not take credit for having created.
But the Emerald Enclave has tasked Reidoth with keeping tabs on Thundertree, and so he does. In his prior visit, he noticed an increase in the number of zombies and twig blights, and posted the sign you saw advertising the risks of entering the ruins. “More dead adventurers? Just more zombies in a few weeks.”
Even worse, his present visit. When he arrived a few weeks ago, Reidoth found that not only had a young green dragon taken residence in the old wizard's keep – another cataclysmic event for the region which he states with the same laconic miserliness he does everything else – but there are also cultists who have taken residence in the ruins in order to worship the powerful wyrm.
The melted skin? It becomes obvious to you that Reidoth tried to reason with the dragon so that it would abandon Thundertree in favor of a roost farther from civilization, and that the acid burns covering Reidoth’s face and body were the dragon’s way of saying, no thanks. “If you’re smart, you’ll get out, quick,” he says. Indicating that he either thinks himself too stupid to follow his own advice, or that he is incredibly brave.
“Bad time,” he says, the full summary of his thoughts about current events, including the moment of your visit.
“Yes, I know the way to Cragmaw Castle. Tangled in the forest and easy to get lost." Best if he could lead you there, but he does not feel inclined to do for two reasons. One: he’s mostly dead. And two, his duties to the Emerald Enclave include discouraging chaotic evil flying fortresses from taking residence this close to a city. He needs to keep worrying that problem.
Later in the glacially slow conversation, however, he tells you, “This is the way to Cragmaw Castle.” He describes a location 25 miles due north of Phandalin, in the dense southern end of the Neverwinter Wood. You'll have to return the way you came, circle the bottom of the woods on the triboar trail, then head west again into the woods. "Or, get lost."
Having said this, you see his eyes fluttering. "Water... the plants...," he says, finally, and in a moment he is asleep again, and the moths return, even taking leave of Perrin's light, to cover the wounded druid completely once again.
(OOC: Perrin's medicine check, we will say, told him that Reidoth really does need a lot of rest.)
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
Berry listens with excitement to the druid's account. A green dragon! I've never seen one. Perhaps, I could catch a glimpse before we leave? How majestic it must be! Lost in his thoughts for a moment, Berry continues to listen as Reidoth gives directions to Cragmaw Castle, but his final comment leaves him discouraged. Getting lost? It seems Reidoth is quite certain we won't find the way without his help. Maybe we need to assist him first, so he can come with us?
Turning to Reidoth, Berry asks as if the request was directed at him, "Which plants?" But Reidoth is already snoring. Louder this time, he repeats, "Which plants should we water?" Then, turning to the group, he asks, "Do you think he would come with us if we found a way to make that dragon leave?"
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Nosam has remained silent through most of the dialogue back and forth, carefully listening to the information being provided. "I have some more water to help with the plants if ya need." he tells Berry. "And how you suppose we get the dragon to leave, ask nicely?" Nosam chuckles trying to make light of the situation. "I don't suppose it would hurt matters if he chose to tag along with us; he'd likely prove to be useful, especially when he's back to 100%."