Sword Coast Rambling

Serak: Eyes wide with wonder at the wealth laid out before him, the bard does not immediately respond. Rousing himself, he finally answers, "Of course, Arkhan! Could be useful in a crowded hallway someday." 

The scroll of Misty Step he hands to Beetlejuice, saying, "Take this, Sir juice! It could help close the gap between yourself and the enemy, atop cliff or across chasm! ... Or to make a quick get away!" 

Serak then busies himself separating everyone's shares of the treasure, handing 38g 3s 3c to each party member.

OOC: Looking at our treasure hoard, the list is getting crowded. BrownBeard, if you'd like to update it... Serak has the Scroll of Charm Person and the Potion of Flying. He gave Syna the Potion of Invisibility and Beetle the Scroll of Darkness.

Serak will also take the Loaded Dice, since that is definitely in his wheelhouse. The Amulet he'll keep until he can return it and the Pearl can be used to cast Identify.

OOC: No probs, I’ll shift everything round later on today. Needs a good update anyway!

In his haste to divide the wealth, Serak has barely noticed an old rusted handle poking through the coins. As he empties the chest, the rest of the object is revealed - an ancient battleaxe, tarnished by years of neglect, its iron peeling away in long copper coloured flakes. On the axe head, three dwarven runes defy the rust, still shining brightly in silver. 

OOC: That should be the inventories up to date. There is four Silver Goblets left from the chest - you could take one each - as well as 3 diamonds in a wooden box which was part of the cultists tribute to the dragon. Any issues, do shout!

Serak: Leery of the rusty and worn battle-axe, Serak does his best not to touch it in case it is cursed. When the last coin is counted, the bard again produces his wand and casts Detect Magic. He begins to examine the axe closely as he searches his memory for anything matching the object.

History: 17

Looking to the party hopefully, Serak asks, "So... does anyone speak Dwarven?"

Serak ponders over the ace for a while. Such a strange object to be found in a hoard, and in such condition. With his spell cast his suspicions are confirmed. The weapon is indeed magical, giving off a faint aura of... transmutation perhaps? Hard to say. 

The bard racks his brain, flicking through hundreds of folk tales and stories. Magical axes aren’t particularly common, though one does come to mind which may be relevant. The story of “The Dwarf and the Dryads.” A short story involving a dwarven smith who had an altercation with some dryads who had taken offence to his cutting of firewood in their forest. The dryads naturally abducted the dwarfs son, to which he responded as calmly as expected. Seven days and nights he spent smithing the perfect weapon for his revenge, an axe of magical properties which could fell a whole forest in one swoop. In the end, the dwarf won, retrieving his son unharmed, thought the woodland creatures never did trust dwarves after. A fun story, a favourite of many a young dwarf. Whether or not the story is relevant here is hard to say. 

Zyltris clears his throat, “I actually do speak some dwarvish.... let me take a look.” Crouching beside the chest, the elf blows away a layer of rust. “H... E... W.... Initials maybe? Or the weapons name? Hew? Does that mean uhh..... something?” Losing his train of thought, Zyltris disregards the weapon, “It’s rusted  through anyway. We’ll not get much for it, better leaving it here.”

Serak: Reciting the story of "The Dwarf and the Dryad" as best he can remember, the bard finishes the tale and says, "The axe is clearly Dwarven and the name "Hew" certainly fits with the story. Only one way to be sure, I suppose..." 

Serak bends to lift the axe from the chest, hesitating a moment before mustering his courage. Lifting Hew, he wields the axe menacingly, swinging it through the air wildly. Finally, he marches outside, approaches the nearest tree, and takes a mighty swing...

Striding outside with the axe in hand, Serak starts to feel uneasy. Filled with a sudden sense of dread, he chooses a target. A old oak, wide, tall and strong. Perfect. With both hands on the rusted blade, the bard swings.

Serak Attack Roll: 7

A sudden growl seems to echo through the forest causing the bard to hesitate, stumbling as he swings the blade. A moment of silence passes. Just the wind.... surely?

Syna wonders at the growl

Perception 20

Nature 12

Religion5

OCC I think it's time for some arcana / history rolls from the NPCs...i dont like the growl

Clearly worried by Seraks sudden blunder, the party fall quiet. The air is silent, save for the gentle creaking of trees. For a moment Serak questions whether he has heard anything at all. Puzzled, he turns back to the others. 

Zyltris History Check: 19

Dayereth Religion Check: 9

Jelenneth Nature Check: 4

Brots Perception Check: 5

“Nonsense my dear boy. If I know anything about Rillifane Rallathil it’s that he doesn’t allow defenders of his forests to come to any harm.” Dayereth leans heavily on his cane, eyeing up the trees around him, “YOU HEAR THAT? WE’VE DONE YOU A SERVICE HERE! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED! LETTING YOURSELVES GET SO WILD!”

Jelenneth and Zyltris aren’t so sure and the pair fail to offer up any explanation. It falls to Brots to break the silence, “I.... I’m not sure what Dayereth means.... but I can assure you there’s nothing here but us. It’s just the wind.” Sheathing his longbow as he squints into the surrounding forest, Brots gives the druid a thumbs up. The little dwarf clearly not worried.

Dayereth however hobbles away, beginning to lecture a gnarled old oak on hospitality and good manners. “Brots is right.... the trees here aren’t dangerous....” Jelenneth finally speaks up, eager to draw attention away from her raving husband, “.... they’re just trees. Whatever you heard Serak, I’m sure it was nothing...”

Syna relaxes slightly. The forest around him doesn’t seem to hold any dangers, and the wind is stronger here on the hilltop. Surely he would have noticed anything untoward... 

Serak: Highly disturbed by the sudden mysterious growling, Serak trembles as he attempts to drop the axe, praying that he's not been cursed.

Assuming he's able to drop Hew, Serak says quietly, "Perhaps... perhaps someone more proficient with battle-axes should give it a try?"

“Good swing. But let me show you how it’s done.” 

Arkhan grabs the axe grips the handle tightly and walks to the same tree as before. He carefully lines up his swing taking a few practice waves of the axe to feel its weight then... THWACK! A full power swing. 

Attack roll 18

Snatching the axe from the floor, Arkhan pounds forwards. For once, he too feels uneasy. The trees around seem to tower above him, almost threateningly. Nonsense. After a few short practice swings the Dragonborn let’s rip with a two handed strike. 

Damage: 11

A loud crack echoes around the forest as splintered bark rips through the air. In a single strike the Dragonborn carves a deep wedge more than halfway into the trunk. The tree lists dangerously to one side, but holds firm. A strange feeling falls over the Dragonborn, as if someone is watching him. The trees groan again, sounding more annoyed than before... or is it his imagination. He twirls the axe in his hands and forces a chuckle. Scared of trees....

”Maybe not as powerful as the legend suggests?” Jelenneths hushed voice breaks the tension, muffled by the old monks continued ramblings. “Are you sure it’s the right.... DAYERETH!.... dear give it a rest, please.” Following orders, Dayereth stops mid flow, allowing the silence of the forest to once more settle around them. A blast of wind circles the hilltop, roaring as it shakes the branches above them.

"Thanks for the confidence, but that looks like a strong axe to me. Half way through this tree is probably more than most could do... there is something eerie with it though. The trees... they don't like it."

Beetle finally rejoining his companions looks over at Arkhan...."Nice axe, can't wait to see it in battle...", Beetle also takes the scroll from Serak, "yes, I think it will come in very handy, thank you."

Serak: Still unsettled by the trees and eager to be back indoors, Serak says, "Yes, a fine weapon for you Arkhan! I'm curious to find out if it works on all wooden objects?"

Turning to leave, the bard suggests, "Now then, shall we head back to the Cultist's camp to rest and discuss what to do next?"

Syna, still not happy about the axe and the forest's reaction, "Yes, a can definitely use a cup of tea, and meditation.  Too much has happened today, and I am not sure we have all the answers yet."

"For me? I suppose it would." Arkhan says with great gratitude, "It has a nice weight to it. Thank you. I feel honored."

Feeling ignored by the others, Dayereth clears his throat loudly. “If it’s all the same sirs.... I think my wife and I best stay here in the village, rather than head back south with you. These blights.... they aren’t caused by any volcano or earthquake.” He looks stern, his stern voice matched by Jelenneths expression “Blights only grow where evil lurks.... and besides something obviously drew that dragon here. This dear wizard.... though his work was just, remains unfinished.” The old monk points a thumb back to the tower, “I’m sure he won’t mind if we lodge in his tower, you’re of course most welcome to join us before you return south.” 

Serak: Nodding his agreement, Serak follows Dayereth and Jelenneth toward the tower with the others and says, "Hmm... What sort of evil do you think resides here? Anything we can assist you with?"

Serak surveys the garden as the party approaches the tower, searching for a shovel while picking a good spot for the wizard's grave. 

Hobbling back to the tower, Dayereth wrings out a wry smile, “Not immediately. Seems you lot cut back most of the weeds that had shot up in the village. I’ll not bore you with a history lecture.... but wherever a plant is contaminated by evil, a Gulthias tree can rise to infest and corrupt the surrounding forest. We’ve seen the start of that with these blights. If they gain a foothold here... well best not to think of it.” With a reassuring smile, the old monk thrusts his cane out to a small clearing in the garden. Untouched by tangled weeds, the clearing is covered in wildflowers. “This’ll be your spot I suppose?”

”Mr Dayereth..... I.... if you’ll take me.... I would very much like to stay here with you.” From nowhere, Brots cuts between the two, clearly having overheard the conversation, “The forest is my home too after all.... if of course... Serak and the others could.... spare me?” Eyes wide, the gnome casts a pleasing smile to the both of them. Dayereth laughs, “Brots my boy you are of course more than welcome. What do you reckon Serak? This young one is certainly useful, but I’ll not begrudge you holding him hostage a while longer!”