Tabesha'l shakes her head, a little dazzed by the spore-infestation process. As the words from the Myconid sound out inside her mind, she smiles and gives out a light, merry peel of laughter, before unleashing her telepathic answer:

" Sire Myconid, thou and thy species are one of the wonders of our natural - and supernatural - worlds ! 'Tis a honor to be allowed to partake in such incredible refined way of communicating. But I daresay we mortals do not approach the concept of time as thee and thy people doeth: I am loathe to admit our own time is short indeed, and I for one claim to be most pressed by the need to find out more about both yon mysterious moonwyrme dynasty, whose last living representative seems to reside in here-tunnels, and mine own ancestor, the late great enchantress Aerydesia Pananthyr, First of Her Name..."

She crouches down to face the Myconid, observing it with interest as she continues to send her thoughts: " Yet in a gesture of goodwill, 'tis with great pleasure I will now share some impressions of our humble mortal lives with thee. However, if thou shouldst have any questions concerning what thou art about to receive, please do humor mine companions and mine own self in our questing for answers, and do await for a more convenient time, befitting a... shall we say, more profound perusal and extensive explanation of the Upside World's secrets and wondrous places. Now... shall we ?"

As she concludes, she sends a flow of images into the Myconid's mind: open fields covered with wild flowers, elven cities and dwarven mines, village festivities and lordly ballrooms, but also deep woods, dark caves and some of the nastier denizens within; a caleidoscopic myriad shower of impressions, all designed to give as wide an array from the world she knows as possible.

"Oh, uh....that's nice," stammers the myconid, with a twinge of disappointment. "Well, anyways, enough of that...this way," it says and turns to shuffle towards the opening at the far end of the cavern.

(OOC: based on Tink's Discord post, she would have come forward with the others to partake in the rapport spores, leaving only Connak at the rear outside the spore cloud.)

As they pass by the tombstone, the party has an opportunity to get a better look at it up close. (OOC: I'll accept an INT (Investigation) roll from anyone who cares to stop and study it.)

Tabesha'l is taking the time to read through the inscription in an attempt to find out more as they depart the cavernous chambers.

Tabesha'l learns nothing additional from the inscription, but she notices that the tombstone is not stone, but actually made of solid electrum

Tabesha'l turns her thoughts towards their Myconid guide again:

" By no means do I mean to be prying, Ô Most Honored Fungal Sire - actually I do not think I caught thy name: as for myself, I am Tabesha'l Arwayëne Pananthyr, of the great line of the Pananthyrs from Quessel Tyrith, a place I am quite sure you'd be most interested to learn about whenever we find a moment - but wouldst thee be so kind as to inform me on the purpose of using electrum for yon tombal epitaph ? I am most curious, since 'tis the first of its kind I've ever had the good fortune to behold... Doeth it contain any sort of practical purpose, or is it simply the mark of the high esteem said-dragon mother was held ? Mayhaps is my very own ancestor responsible for said-precious offering ? It may even be that she and the dragons were... on somewhat friendly terms ? Wouldst thee be privy to such events, by the merest stroke of hazardous chance ?"

Minsys looks at Tab and then looks at the myconid and sighs.  Then responds, "I did warn ya didn't I?  Now that Tab can talk, you'll never no the sound of silence again."

"Names...such a humanoid institution," remarks the myconid dryly. "You name your dog, but yet he hardly understands such monikers as a means of identification. He knows you and indeed all other living things not by a name but rather how you smell, how much he trusts you by how you make him feel. Such is the way with myconids, but I suppose if you must call me something, you may choose a word that describes me in a manner that you believe others will find amusing and memorable...that is how you humanoids assign names for things that don't intrinsically name themselves, yes?"

As they plod along behind the myconid, he explains the tombstone: "Unlike many other dragon species, moonstones don't hoard riches of just any kind. They favor silver and electrum and when Mother Moonstone was slain by Viathirix, her duergar servants fashioned for her this memorial from the electrum coins in her hoard. You should probably take care not to wander too close though, the tombstone is valuable and thus a guardian has been placed there to prevent it's theft..."

No sooner than the myconid had spoken these words did an enormous eye in the center of the stalagmite snap open...

" Oh dear..." Tabesha'l sighs and raises two perfectly manicured fingers in a warning gesture for the rest of the group, " ... just as I feared: these things are terribly tedious. Careful with the pointy teeth there, dear comrades. Arvvvviiii ? Where art thou, creatu-uu-re ? To meeee-ee !"

As she keeps on babbling, now somewhat nervously, the elf takes slow careful steps to retreat away from the Roper's reach.

"No worries from me.  My treasures are that which I harvest from the labor of my own two hands..." Minsys responds.  He hefts his maul.  "Like this, while I can't claim the craftmanship, I can claim that the steel is from weapons raised against me."

Tink also steps back from the roper's reach as Whisker takes cover behind her legs and hisses. However her taking of notes does not stop as as she observes the strange creature, "Well this is an interesting specimen isn't it? It certainly has some interesting apendages. Almost reminds me of Professor Namfoodle's Touch Enhanced Non-detectable Tensile Appendage Complete Launder Engine for hard to reach places. Isn't that right Whisker?"

Tink then thinks to the Myconid, "What is this guardian called? Can it move? Is it sentient?"

"There you go with the names again" says the myconid. "It hasn't moved as long as I've been around, and that's a long time by some standards of time measurement."

(OOC: @Tink - make an INT (Investigation) check against the roper.)

Investigation 11

Tink believes that the roper is an illusion...most don't reveal themselves before they attack and the fact that it hasn't moved in the myconid's lifetime (and thus does not relocate to find food/prey) also makes her suspect that it isn't real.

Tink's brows furrow at the myconid's words. She stares intently at the creature for a few minutes before speaking out loud, "I say...I have a suspicion that the creature might not be real. I am not very well versed in monsters of the Underdark, but I suppose any ambush creature would not reveal themselves until they are about to pounch. Coupled with the fact that the creature seems to have no need of sustanance as it hasn't caught anything in a long while, makes me think that perhaps it is an illusion of some sort?"

The realizing that the myconid would not understand her vocalized words, she rethinks the same message to it.

The myconid finally arrives at the exit to the cavern, which unlike the entrance, has a worked stone arch decorated with draconic runes. The floor goes from rough cavernous terrain to finished flagstones as well. As the party moves through the portal, the roper resumes its stalagmite appearance.

Moving ahead, they enter into another semi-cavernous room. The stone corridor lets out onto a wide circular portico with perfectly cut steps leading back down to an unfinished cavern floor. Unlike the room they were just in, this one is supported by tall columns of worked stone, with elegant dragon reliefs carved into their exterior. Across the cavern, the party can see another exit similar to the one they just entered through, however the surrounding wall there is all worked stone. To their left, another exit leads north, this one looks more like a natural opening to a cave. There are no glowing fungi in this area, so it is bathed in darkness.

"The hatchery is through that cave to the left," says the myconid, "The Daughter lives somewhere ahead through that archway. The elven woman always went that way. Which way would you like me to lead you?"

" Hum. Methinks said-dragon daughter wouldst not appreciate us disturbing a... hatchery," Tabesha'l reflects aloud, turning towards her companions before asking the Myconid:

" Wouldst there be any eggs close to hatching in yon chambers, then ? Art thee privy to such matters, Ô August Fungal Tour Guide ?"

Connak answers Tabesha'l, "I'm honestly shocked you're not immediately going after your grandmother..."

(Connak is not privy to the Myconids communication and does not know about Tabesha'ls grandmother going in a particular direction...)

The myconid responds to Tabesha'l's question telepathically so that everyone can hear: "Oh yes, she has many eggs in the hatchery. Some have hatched already. If fact, we are standing in the feeding chamber right this very minute," he says matter-of-factly.

No sooner had his words entered their minds did the party see several pairs of eyes shining in the darkness of the cave that the myconid had identified as the entrance to the dragon hatchery. They bobbed up and down as if the creatures they belonged to were walking...or stalking...towards them. Five moonstone dragon wyrmlings emerged into the chamber looking hungrily at the party.

Connak, being excluded from the Myconid's spore infection sees the glowing eyes and is immediately alarmed, "Are all of you bamboozled by that mushroom, or do you not see it's leading you to be dinner?"

" Wait, let us not inflict unnecessary harm to yon innocent - yet apparently hungry - creatures. After all, one can only imagine what their mother wouldst do to us..." the elven mage warns the party, while addressing the Myconid again: 

" Forgive me, friend... but I could not help noticing thee mentioned a 'feeding chamber ' we art currently standing in, yes ? If so, wouldst thy guess be that we art to become living snacks to yon creatures presently ? If not, there must be a way we - or maybe thyself - can warn their main adult carefigure, in effect yon Moonstone dragon thou calleth Tratainthraxjharelden, so as to avoid a terrible mistake !"

While she projected her thoughts, she looked about for any way to either escape or at least impede pursuit from the wyrmlings if things should come to a head.