Lazarus enjoys the sight of the integrated Imperial-Zavas society. They had so much to offer each other, and the wonders of technology and magic are now displayed here, side by side. Spotting a mushroom, he picks one off the thickets and pockets it.

As they approach the outpost guards, Lazarus steps forward with Luxene. “She is right. We only wish to spend the night in this wonderful settlement. Could you fine gentlemen allow us passage?”

(Lazarus tries to help Luxene, granting Advantage if possible.)

The Spears give the party another run-down with their eyes, before the one closest to you nods his head toward the tower and raises his hand. The half-dozen Spears part their way, and a more studious-looking fellow is furiously glancing at the party and writing down bits of information in a small ledger. As you walk through, you notice an imposing array of trees that is known as the Zavas Gate, a magically grown circle of trees that serves as a protective barrier.

The brilliant Zavas tribe lies ahead, A bizarre display of magical homes entangled with the natural Redwood trees that cover the forest mixed with Imperial technology, the city is truly one of contrast. In the Central Grove, the place of business and luxury, the trees elongate, thicken, and reach taller; spiraling bits of stairs can be seen on the largest ones, and windows seem to be carved into the trees, bloated out of shape as the tree seems to grow on. Vines wrap the surrounding vicinity, which is brightly lit by various magical torches and lanterns that hang everywhere you can see. On the ground are various more Imperial looking buildings; they are newer and seem cheaply made, creating an odd and unpleasant mark on the gorgeousness of the tribe. Moving away from the Central Grove lie the Lesser Forests - eclectic treehouses that seem to be impossibly suspended crowd the treetops and canopy, compromising the majority of civilian life; the alleyways and slums of the village seem to be the mushroom-infested, rotting in the dark at the bottom, where small bits of lamp and haphazardly put together buildings serve as a living place for the poor. At the North Woods lies the obvious impact of the Imperium - the trees level out and become more organized. More traditional - but no less gorgeous - houses and factories can be seen, billowing smoke from the various goods they are producing from the Wilderness’s natural resources. Uncomfortable-looking Spears and Infantry patrol the area with some difficulty, foreign to the nature of the forest city. People go about their day as they please; wearing traditional Orange-Green clothing, they give the party little thought as they hurry about their day. Children laugh and play, swinging on loose vines; businesspeople rush up and down the stairs like the many ants that dot the surrounding. A soothing smell of moss and greenery calms you. Your party starts near the Eastern Woodlands, a heavily residential area, on the ground floor; a gateway of trees opens up, and you climb a staircase that leads to a knotted mass of roots and platforms that dominate the strange, but charming, Zavas tribe.

A welcoming committee of perturbed Spears guards the place you entered. One approaches, and nods. “You look new here. Any place ye’ headed?”

As they walk past the first group of guards and Hush sees the studious-looking fellow madly writing things down, he tries to catch a glimpse of what the man writes (Perception: 18). 

As they wander through the settlement, Hush keeps an eye out for any older gentlemen that he thinks might be the Lazino that Old Grey wished us to find (basically, he's looking for another Tiefling, thinking that perhaps Lazino is the same as Old Grey, alternatively he's also seeing if there might be some sign of Lazino's name somewhere - Perception: 25).

As the welcoming committee member approaches and asks where the group is headed, Hush remains silent, but eyes them curiously and untrusting. He telepathically whispers to Lazarus and Luxene first, but then the others in succession, "Let's not try to sell that gear we picked up while in town. It might offer a good disguise later and would likely cause more trouble than the money it's worth. And I'm not entirely certain about asking these guards after our letter's recipient either. Perhaps one of us can find a friendly tribesman to ask?"

Lazarus nods as Hush speaks to him telepathically. The Wildlings never ceased to impress him with their abilities. He holds the letter close to hand and says to the guards, "Do you know of a good tavern around here? We've been out in the Wilderness for too long, and all we want is a place with good food and comfortable rooms." 

(Mobile, excuse lack of formatting^^)

Hush, your senses are very acute. When you walk past the outpost, you notice the soldier glancing at each of you individually and writing a brief description; it seems to be a post to keep track of who enters and exits the city. While walking around the entryway to the shaded city, you do not see anything specific that would signify a man named Lazino, but you notice an apparent lack of any Tieflings. Humans, Wood Elves, and Forest Gnomes make up the majority of the population in equal amounts, with a smattering of Half-Orcs and Halflings. The city is peaceful, but you notice an encounter - an old marketwoman carrying a bag of fruits accidentally bumps against a Spear, and a bag of apples spills across a bridge of branches, some falling off. The Spear angrily draws his weapon and begins shouting, which is met by half a dozen Wilderlings in the vicinity to materialise and stand near the woman, collecting the apples. A tall Half-Orc stands with crossed arms, staring the Spear down, and a couple other Imperial soldiers stand near the Spear. After some unsettling seconds, the two stand down and head along their way. From this, you gather that the citizens of the Zavas and the Imperials have some animosity towards each other.

Ome Imperial replies to Lazarus in annoyed tones. “Bud, I’ve been here for less than a week. You lot seem more Wilderling. If you head down this path for a bit, you’ll find the Wormwort Inn. Off you go.”

Lazarus turns to his companions.

”To the Wormwort, then? Let’s have a taste of the comforts of civilization, and then we can find Lazino.”

Holden gives a nod of agreement.

The five of you travel through the maze of a town, ascending and descending knotted paths of branches and wooden workways, asking directions to the Wormwort Inn. Clambering down a large set of stairs lead you to the winded entrance of an incredibly and unnaturally large Oak tree. A door swings open, and a gruff-looking Dwarf admits you inside the hollowed-out interior. The smell of furnished wood and ale is strong in the confined space, and lanterns of drifting lights pulse and fill the interior with a homely glow. Interestingly, the interior of the cylindrical tree seems to be made of semi-circular floors at regular intervals spaced up and down, with vine ladders providing the way of moving up and down floors. Cheery talking can be heard as you peek over the ledge, seeing dozens of stories above and below you. As the party makes their way to the entry floor, a balding, middle-aged Human greets you. Surrounding the first floor lies an extremely large array of liquids in colorful jars. Some are bubbling, some are steaming. "Welcome to the Wormswort Inn! You don't look like you're from around here. Feel free to climb the ladder and find an open table. To order, simply speak into the pipe; I hear what you say, and I'll send your drinks right up," he says, pointing towards a trolley system of ropes and vines. Just then, a tube coming from an exposed pipe belts out a sound - "Two ales, floor sixteen!" upon which he rapidly begins pouring, and loads two frothing mugs of liquid onto the trolley, and begins pulling a rope.

Lazarus allows himself to be overtaken with wonder; he felt like a child during a holiday among the amazing magical contraptions in the inn. 

When the Human approaches, he simply hands him a gold piece before stepping closer to one of the floating lanterns of light. 

“An incredible device! How does it work?”

Arcana: 16 

Holden with pay for an ale, and once it is ready, he gives a grunt of thanks to the bartender before returning to the group sipping it. “What is our plan?” He asks. 

Luxaene comes to a sense of ease; the homely welcome the Zavas were known for, and the elf was glad it still persists despite their toxic price for peace. "I wish to deliver the letter. I know not of others, but I am of my word." She then turns to Holden, "What say you, Stonefist? You say you are from Morka? Not that I can say I recognise you... Have you to be guided a role by the Elders?" She adjusts her bangles of rich wood and gold.

Lazarus, your studies in arcane traditions lead you to realize the lights are all magical, long-lasting spells that seem to be casually thrown for common use. It seems to you that spellcasting is more common in the WIlderness than you thought.

Holden, as you go to pay for the ale, the bartender waves you off. "Can't be climbin' ladders with one hand, now, can ya?"

The man then motions over for you to begin to climb the vine ladder. It's a dizzying prospect as the tree seems to be several hundred feet tall, but the footholds seem worn and secure, and the vines curl and cling to your form if you begin to slip. It's pretty evident the Zavas tribe contains many magical secrets and ancient Druidic traditions. The odd tavern is arranged in a segmented cylinder; as you climb up the ladder it gets progressively stuffier. Turning your head, you see similar semi-circular platforms where patrons are laughing, gambling, smoking, drinking, and doing all sorts of tavern-like activities, giving you a cheery wave. Some have a curtain run over the gap, and some appear to have beds for housing purposes. After a dozen or so floors, you find an empty table to rest on. Rather than a table being made, the chairs and table seem to have been hollowed out while creating the place; the table is entirely made of wood and seamlessly melds with the floor and walls. A hole in the wall seems to be what the 'pipe' the man was talking about, and a sign reads - "Welcome to the Wormswort Inn! To make an order, simply speak into the pipe - the bartender will hear your order as it echoes down, and we'll send it right up! Leave expenses at the front entrance when you leave!" - and you hear a muffled, echoed voice reverberate down the hollowed tube. Just then, a mug of ale sloshes up on the system of pulleys, and it appears to be the ale Holden ordered.

Hush sits and watches the people around the inn. "We should talk to some people here at the inn after this Lazino. I'm sure one of them will know him. I tried to keep an eye out for anyone that I might suspect to be the old man's friend, but nothing stood out to me as a possibility."

Derek was painfully uncomfortable in the crowded inn. Even with its fascinating naturalistic design the clamor of so many conversations drowns out his own thoughts in his head. He cannot formulate a thought. He follows the group reflexively and joins them at the table. He sits at the table next to Lazarus in silence.

The five of you quietly chat over the stool, watching the globular lights float around and the drinks trolley whizzing up and down each way. Although the sun was up when you arrived, the magical light seems to dim along with the sunset, cloaking the area in a more dim form of light. Conversations begin to die down as people leave, but you see the vine rope being tugged, and eventually, a disheveled-looking Dwarf clambers up. He looks old - for a Dwarf - and wears tattered clothing that reminds you of miner's attire. His face is grubby and unwashed, and he has an eyepatch covering one eye.

"Aye, thaur, lads! Got anie room?,"  he loudly asks, before jumping onto your platform and sidling in, not appearing to care for an answer. He belts an order into the pipe before wetly sighing and sinking onto a wooden stool. "Name's Flinn, pleasure tae meit ye. Th' Wilderness is restless, aye?" he says, before a large tankard of bubbling green liquid rockets up. Drinking deeply, he belches, and continues. For the first time he actually takes a harder look at the party, the one small eye crazily dancing between each member. "Ye don' look lich ye ar' from aroun' dhere, no. Pakoras, probably?" he ponders, furrowing his brow. "Anyhow, glad tae meet' ye. 'Tis late, an' I'd like some company."

Hush nods in greeting, "Nice to meet you Flinn. We're uh... from all over. It's a strange story and we're not entirely certain of the details but happy to be here nonetheless. What's your story? Are you from around here? You may be able to help us find someone. We have a letter to deliver."

The Dwarf loudly slams his mug on the counter. It's clear he is rather inebriated already, and his chest swells in a burst of pride. "Ye want ta fin' somethin, laddie, ye came te the righ' person! Old Flinn here is Chief Overseer o' the Soothern Farms!" Clearing his eyes for a moment in a moment of sobriety, he looks down, and then sighs. "Migh'  not be in a bit, though. Slimes've infested th' crops an' we canno' get rid of em! Folks say 'tis witchcraft. Anywho, who's it yer' lookin' for?"

"Well, Chief Overseer," Hush says with a small smirk, "We are looking for a man by the name of Lazino. You wouldn't know him by chance? Perhaps, once we've delivered our letter, we can help you with your slimes?" 

(OOC - Hush isn't overly interested either way if they help with the slime infestation, however is using it as a way of plying the man for information. Tit for tat.)

Luxaene stilts her reaction to the dwarf to not appear rude and sips her wine listen to his words, nodding with understanding. "My comrade here speaks in truth; we are... more than capable of assisting with this problem."

((Luxaene provides any Help if any persuading, or something, is needed))

Derek chimes in the notion of slimes peaking his interest. He had been quietly observing the patrons, the wonder of the inn, and the conversation with Flinn. He asks the overseer, "What are slimes? And why do you believe there is witchcraft involved?"