Session #12 as told by Inez

 Session #12 as told by Inez

Dear diary,

Writing this at a table filled with jugs, cauldrons, bottles and vials, that looks like my father’s desk after a visit of questionable halflings, I feel we walked into a trap. A very different one than the ones I had expected, no mob or militia out of Ki nor bounty hunters, but a setup that probably has been here for ages. We somehow won the first round, but are still stuck here, caught in this strange place. Allow me to relate.

When I stepped out of my tent, I felt almost more exhausted than when we had made camp last night. A good distance from the road, hidden by trees and bushes, the spot had seemed a safe haven. Strangely, in the early morning light it looked more unfavorable, the dense vegetation almost like a prison wall. So I can get used to such a view! Whose side are you on, dear diary?

None of us, not even Jonathan, felt much like talking, quietly breaking up our tents and packing our stuff again as a shared ritual. That’s when we picked up the muffled cries coming from within the woods. The first few I tried to neglect, until Jonathan had to ask if anybody else heard this shouting for help. Finn and I were reluctant to find out what or where this was, preferring to get going and gain some distance between us and Ki. But to the priest a cry for help was like a command of his god. So he took off, into the foliage. Finn followed reluctantly, taking another path to cover the flank of our leader of this new expedition. Leaving some distance between me and the priest, I formed the rearguard even less enthusiastically. Still, perhaps this was better than having to discuss our situation and prospects. Leaving my thoughts, I found out I had to speed up a bit, as both men were all of a sudden out of sight!

After some into the inaccessible path, I caught up with Jonathan, who was ensnared by liana-like branches. Those twigs and sprigs turned out to be very hard to cut or snap off and seem to enjoy themselves trapping passers-by. Trying to free my companion's right arm, my knife made no impression at all. Even worse, after cutting myself I dropped it on the ground. Where it was eaten by the thick foliage, nowhere to be found. Looking up I found Finn grinning at me, gesturing to remain seated. To my relief and annoyance, he then almost effortlessly cut Jonathan loose. Not only that, he picked the priest up, walked some steps backwards, then placed him next to me. Finn’s arrival and actions delighted the other halfling, the two of them starting a ritual of Nook-street-lingo that was all halfling to me. And the parts I did manage to decipher, were on me. Pesky halflings.

Taking the lead, Finn walked and crawled further, leading us (me being the brave rearguard) through a tunnel that could have been dwarven made looking at its precise structure, but appeared to be grown out of branches and tendrils. In between even little flowers could be spotted. But no traces or sounds of animals. Only the smothered cries for help  could periodically be heard. All in all it gave me a disquieting feeling, as if we were led to like Kurtulmak into the dungeon.

The three of us ended in front of a wall of vegetation that blocked the end of the tunnel. With his hands Finn was swiping through leaves and twigs like he was on to something: “There’s a door hidden here!” As if it was planned, once more the suppressed cry could be heard again. “Wait, let me try!”; I responded, picking up my spellbook and concentrating. Both halflings stepped aside without urging, hopefully because they respect my wizardly skills. (Yes, you’re right, dear diary, could have been fear as well. Thank you, once again!). Breathing in deeply to seek for concentration and power, while the spellbook seemingly by itself opened the correct page. Lenient and calm I managed to steer magical energies into and through the wall, probing for magic. Finding that it probably was or had been an arboretum, its structure itself transmitting a soft glow. And it had a door, just in front of us, Finn was right in that! Inside I spotted purple and red miasmas, a little further away, and I did not manage to recognize more than these slim shades. And I remembered the books that were popular amongst city-gnome-ladies about the practices of our country kin, books with titles like ‘Where the Weeds Whisper’ and ‘The Hothouse of Hidden Horrors’. All describing mysterious, alluring, sometimes even dangerous,  practices taking place in the greenhouses in the country. When I was found reading one of these, my parents always sighed, then explained in much too long disquisitions that this was all nonsense. And above all instructing me never to tell anyone that though we came from far, we were also proper city gnomes!

Returning out of my spell trance, I informed my companions and implored them to be careful. Reaching out Finn claimed to have found a door handle, and started fiddling with a wooden wart sticking out. Prying and twitching, no door opened, but all of a sudden the rogue managed to pull out a long stick. Plainly very fond of his find, he was for a while only focusing on the cane, not allowing us to watch let alone touch it. Parading around and pretending it to be a sword, (and him a honorful knight, dear diary!), swinging around with it. Luckily he came to his senses a bit after that, but still kept the walking stick close by, as if he had found a new lover (no comments needed on that, dear diary!).

The stick not only had a special relationship with Finn, but also with the green building. Using the stick, Finn managed to show the contours of a door that lit up when touched by the stick. However, no matter what we tried, it did not want to open. Trying to place the stick back into the door, according to Finn it was the handle or lever, did not work out. Neither did pulling or pushing by the two halflings. At last Finn was willing to listen to a voice of reason (Mine of course, dear diary), that suggested using the cane to knock on the door. Like civilized people do. And behold, after three knocks the door opened smoothly, and by itself.

Cautiously looking inside, Finn once more took the lead. Checking for traps, then gesturing that we should follow him. Inside we found a room filled with small trees, bushes and plants. Large cisterns, vases and tables carrying pots with herbs were standing or lying around broken, intermingled with the trunks of trees growing through the floors and walls into the ceiling. As I stepped in after Finn, the scene surpassed the images of the gnomish books and I was wondering whether a primitive rock gnome would appear to snatch me or a civilized city gnome to seduce me. Neither of them would be welcome, dear diary!

Where I was little at ease in this greenery, Jonathan seemed to be in his element. Using his magic he guided us through the first room, pointing out flowers and plants: “Look, there, that’s the Aquis Carmellis! My grandmother used to have one of these!” “And this one, of these the bark is nourishing. Just prepare some tea and you won't need anything to eat for days.” And that out of the mouth of a halfling, dear diary.  And even Finn seemed upbeat, surveying a table full of herbs: “.. great collection of tastes, the kind of flavor that’d make a priest skip his prayers. Didn't mean you, Jonathan!” Moving around we lost our alertness, which was penalized when Finn and I took in a puff of the grandmother’s plant. Fortunately it only made us a bit numb, Jonathan’s grandmother just used it to keep the children quiet. My mother would have agreed: “Halfling families are like a clockwork toy wound too tight, all chaos and no cogs.”

At that moment I lost all dizziness when I felt something pulling at my riding pants. Looking down I thought I was hallucinating; a small shrubbery puppet was staring up at me. Well staring up is perhaps not entirely correct, as the big leaf forming its face did not have any eyes (or a mouth for that matter)! Was this one of the purple or red magic spheres I had seen? Obviously this was a product of Fey magic, and a lot more arcanely-advanced than I had managed so far, causing me to feel  a bit of respect, wonder and envy at the same time. Yet also a bit circumspect of it, not trusting it fully. Like we gnomes use to say: “A fey’s word is a riddle wrapped in a smile.” 

As it did not give the impression of being harmful or hostile, I tried to talk to it:”Who are you, little one?” To my surprise the petite construct answered: “Gregot!”. But when I kneeled down to pick it up gently, it made off, withdrawing behind a broken pot. “You see? He ran away from you. That’s a wise man!”; I heard from behind, where I found a grinning Finn.”Well, it’s both our loss that you’re not wise then.”; I riposted; “Perhaps you can do better?” Should have known better than to challenge the rogue, for he then tried to connect his mind to that of the shrub. Which probably scared the little one even more, dear diary!

Once more Jonathan turned out to be the wisest of us three (I hate to admit, diary). With some effort he gained the confidence of the little one and even managed to communicate with it. Even was allowed to pick it up and carry it with him. The priest and the plant connected in a natural way, linking up without the need of magic. In fact, their bond generated magic, as a green glow lid twinkled shortly. “It needs our help, and wants us to go there, into that room.”; Jonathan and the scrub were now both pointing towards the passage to the chamber. And in typical Jonathan-style he also took the first step, knocking over a casket. Alarming any potential adversary and the small shrub: “Gregot!”

In between the two rooms a drapery formed by lianas, stalks and leaves blocked sight and access. Jonathan shoved away some to look inside before stepping through, the little magic creature still on his hand. Finn and I followed him to find another room filled with plant life and broken pottery. Here we found the source of the suppressed calls for help: Two gnomish figures were kept prisoner by a tall tree. As a city lady my knowledge of trees was limited, despite the efforts of Doctor Vexora, but I doubt that this kind of tree was in her books. From its bole limbs were growing both upwards as a normal tree, but a few branches were encircling the trunk, forming a casket for its prisoners.  

Like the chief magistrate of Nook’s court, the tree was standing in the middle room, dominating its surroundings. And not just standing; the moment Finn got within its reach, it washed out with one branch, with the speed and agility of a dwarven warrior!. And more attacks were on our way! It was astonishing to see the creatures' branches move as arms that fast, resembling the steam powdered festival attraction I once rode in at Nook's yearly bazaar. As a kid I screamed in fear for that one, now I was almost doing the same here, dear diary.

The tree and Finn got entangled in melee, which gave me some time to try to free one of the gnomes. Jonathan had the same idea, nevertheless both of us failed in prying them free. And as we tried, the tree punched and slapped at us, and we had to give up our attempts. Looking around I saw a second, slightly smaller but still much larger than us, tree-creature attacking Finn. The halfling concentrated his attacks on the new opponent, which meant that the other one had its twigs free for Jonathan and me. Realizing this I grab my spellbook, pages turning and whirling, ending at the description of a spell I never had seen before. Gesturing and murmuring I constructed instinctively a shield around me out of arcane energy. But too little too late, a big branch hit me hard, forcing me down to the ground. The last thing I saw, breathing out deep as my chest was squashed to the floor, was Finn chopping up the smaller tree. Dear diary, once more my contribution to a fight was less than impressive, to state it mildly!

The first thing I saw when I regained consciousness was the short shrub creature, standing next to me, one of its leaf hands touching my forehead. Lying on my belly, my face flat on the ground, the shrubby man looked large standing inches away, literally filling my sight. The rest of the world was hidden by a green fog, somehow the creature's touch did not displease me, since a wave of vitality streamed into me. “Gregot?” ”Thank you, dear tree”; was all I could muster in response.  And I felt exultant that i: my teacher in etiquette, High keeper Ironmantle, was not here and ii: I was still alive. 

Keeping low I looked around, the green blur was vanishing slowly, and I could see Finn still fighting the large tree. The rogue looked bloodied and fatigued, all the same his knife was still cutting and hacking away branches. Moving my head to the left I sensed a strong ethereal boundary touching me. This sensation became stronger and as I looked up Jonathan was there, standing next to me. The priest had once more astounded me with his magical prowess, just for casting a conjuration of this level and power. And for walking over in the midst of a skirmish to check on his gnomish companion. And for casting a healing spell, saving his gnomish companion for the umpteenth time.”You’re okay, Inez?””Thank you, dear priest”; was all I could muster in response. And I felt exultant that i: my teacher in etiquette, High keeper Ironmantle, was not here and ii: I was still alive. 

Returning to my senses and the hic et nunc, as my father would have said, there was a task ahead. Jonathan and Finn had kept me safe, and even had managed to loosen the two gnomes to some extent, battling the big tree. During the fight they themselves had suffered quite some injuries and damage, the tree still standing, dominating the fight. Somehow I kept calm, having found my spellbook back, staring at the spell that had opened up. Considering my options, as I remembered all too well what had happened the day before, and knowing I had a responsibility toward my companions. My right hand fingers were spread as if holding a ball, I started reciting the words lighting up on the page, feeling the last scraps of my arcane powers moving through my spine towards my hand, a sensation of heat and pulses in my palm, aiming to keep control and for the crown of the tree, making sure not to miss nor hit its captives. Releasing the orb of fire, feeling it flow towards its target, hitting it perfectly! Was I truly a wizard, dear diary? 

All that remained of the tree was a smoking piece of the lower trunk, and some of its roots, or legs, curled up in awkward positions. And even though this was not a pretty sight, I felt a bit proud of myself. And a lot better compared to yesterday! Even Finn seemed impressed, though he just thanked me for getting his knife back that stuck out of the tree stump. Still I killed this creature, this time willingly and on purpose, not in blind panic, a case of justifiable self-defence I could argue in court, or to Azuth, or even my father for that matter.

And that’s how I came to sit writing on this table, between two ferns in the far corner of the room where we beat the tree-creature. Feeling better than yesterday, but still confused and exhausted. That’s it for now, as I need to talk to our new gnome acquaintances, the ones we just freed from their captor. More is soon to follow, dear diary!