The Troupe helped the Druids of the Cloakwood defend themselves against hunters that murdered one of their kin. Seniyad, the leader of the Druids, then enlisted Jaheira’s help to find two druids who may have been captured by Shadow Druids deeper in the forest. Aegon agreed to help as they make their way deeper into the forest in search of the Iron Throne.
5 Eleasias 1368
The Cloakwood doesn’t give us a break, forcing us to fight our way through huge spiders. Luckily we don’t get caught in their web.
Verr’Sza draws his blades and dispatches the spiders easily. The beasts of the wood may be easy to kill, but they are great in number. I fear we may be worn down eventually.
A short way from the spider corpses we encounter a large pack of wolves. They don’t pay any attention to us until we hear the deathly cry of a dread wolf nearby.
Lead by the dread wolves, the wolf pack swarms our position and we are forced to fend for our lives again. I raise my holy symbol in an attempt to Turn their undeathly leaders.
Corellon listens to me, and the dread wolves are compelled to make flight. Without their pack leaders, the rest of the wolves are routed as well. We allow them to run back into the forest.
We follow the dread wolves and kill them as they flee. With them gone we should have less trouble with any other wolves that happen to be nearby.
We have no trouble from wolves, but another pack animal picks up our scent. Worgs. More intelligent than wolves and especially more bloodthirsty.
Khalid’s blade bites sharper than they do, and they are cut down quickly by the Half-Elf. We are barely breaking a sweat in this forest. I hope that things remain as easy, though I know they will not.
For a while the forest is calm and continue to the west toward Shadow Druid territory. White and I talk, getting to know each other a little more.
Aegon: Well, yes. He made me read many books in the library and would teach me about use of some herbs, and roads – I think he tried to prepare me for this life.
White: Hmm, really? So you could stand his teaching, I suppose.
I couldn’t stand the teaching of my mother Oosathia. She would make me sit on the bench in the old temple and listen to her stories. She would tell me about poisons, how to fight them, about Grumbar, other nagas… blah blah blah…
Grumbar, the Elemental Lord of Earth. I didn’t know that any naga worshipped him.
Aegon: What was the temple like? Tell me about it.
White: Well, it was like a usual forgotten temple, I guess. Some benches, an altar with a huge rock, with some words engraved on it. And there was a small storage room, sleeping quarters.
And there were vines almost everywhere. I suppose no one thought of getting rid of them. I’m not sure if they were there when the clerics lived there.
Oosathia didn’t clean there much. Well, I think it’s obvious that cleaning and tidying might be a bit difficult for a naga. But she would make me clean up from time to time, but only those places we actually used. And the altar.
But I suppose her teachings were quite useful, after all. They helped me to run away, after all. I knew where and when to run away as I knew when she would pray to Grumbar. I knew much about the geography of the nearby lands, so I knew WHERE I should go in order not to end up in the middle of nowhere.
And she told me some usual stuff like… how to call a snake, for example. You know, in case I was in a dungeon. It’s surprising that there are some sort of snakes in every part of Faerûn.
She also taught me about poisons. Hehe, she had quite a lot of knowledge about those, but come on – she was a naga. It was kinda natural to her, I suppose.
Aegon: Have you thought of returning her the ring? Maybe she’ll need it?
White: Ha! No, not really. She has no hands so can’t wear them. She just likes collecting rings and bracelets. And I really don’t feel like going back to the temple.
Nagas are really strange creatures. From what I know, they are deadly dangerous, or deadly boring; obsessive with guarding. But maybe there are other kinds I don’t know about. And after all in my own lifetime I only met mother.
Aegon: I am sure there are some really interesting nagas somewhere. They are snake-creatures after all. They must know some nice secrets and stories.
White: Maybe, but first you would need to stand the bubbling of those good nagas, and the dark nagas wouldn’t tell you much. They would rather eat you.
Though we were both adopted, our attitudes toward our parents couldn’t be any more different. He fled his mother, though she tried to teach him. He sees her as a kidnapper, and perhaps she was. Was Gorion my kidnapper or my saviour? I had never thought about this, but knowing how he raised me, and the people he calls “friend” I cannot see father as someone who would take what doesn’t belong to him.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of running water. We follow it to find the source of the sound, a small river with a stone bridge built across it. An archer stands in the middle of the bridge eyeing us with caution. Khalid places his hand on his hilt, as we suspect this may be another hunter. The man sees he is outnumbered and raises his arms. Khalid cautiously steps onto the bridge to talk to the man.
Khalid: Yes, tell us more.
Coran: Good, I’m glad you’re smart enough to recognise opportunity when it comes knocking. The deal is this: I’ve been hired by the mayor of Beregost to hunt down a great winged dragon that’s been plaguing the caravan routes. He’s offered 2,000 gold for its head. Now before you get cold feet, let me allay your fears. The only descriptions of the beast have always mentioned its deadly barbed tail. From what I know about dragons they don’t have barbs on their tails – that’s something unique to wyverns. So all we have to do is find this wyvern’s nest and kill it. Our only worries are if it has friends over for dinner! So what is your decision, yea or nay?
He’s right. I read about dragons and wyverns in the Keep, and dragons don’t have barbed tails. Khalid looks to me and I nod my head.
Khalid: Yea.
Coran: Very well then. We shouldn’t tarry any longer; let’s collect the heads of those soon-to-be-sorry wyverns.
Our group is getting too large to remain stealthy, so I ask Verr’Sza to wait for us while we head into the Shadow Druids’ lair. The rakshasa isn’t happy with this, but he does as I ask.
I ask Coran to tell me about himself, and he tells me he is a wild elf. Unlike other elves, they live in small groups in the forest.
He tells us he is a skilled fighter and thief, and a good shot with his long bow. I wondered why the mayor would hire someone like this, but he feels like someone who fits the description of an adventurer like myself.
His actual class description is for a Fighter/Thief, but I’ve included the modded class description here as it’s the interesting part of his character.
I tell him we can probably find him some better equipment, and he is surprised to see we have a Bag of Holding. He finds Telbar’s Studded Leather to fit him well. I don’t tell him how we obtained the armour.
He also takes the Mind-Swift-As-Weasels, a powerfully enchanted sword with a strange connection to a bard that raised the animals.
He tells us this is all he needs. Wild elves like to use simple weapons and armour so they can be free to move and take advantage of the wilderness that surrounds them. He says he is eager to see how we fight together, as wyverns are not easily slain.
After he has finished equipping his new armour he leads us through the forest. He says he has an idea of where to find the Shadow Druids, as well as the wyverns. The Cloakwood reminds us that it has dangers within by sending us another group of tasloi to kill.
Jaheira falls back behind the party for a moment, examining a peculiar plant. She ends up putting it back into her medicinal bag, and now she is about to catch up with the group. I decide it would be wise to take advantage of the situation, and trade a couple words in private.
Aegon: So, what is your opinion of my leadership, Jaheira?
Jaheira: Do you not think I might have a more flattering opinion *after* I have healed my wounds?
Right, that’s probably what the herbs are for. We press on to the west as night falls. The forest seems calm for a while, the only sound the buzzing of cicadas in the trees.
6 Eleasias 1368
We end up walking along a small cliff and come to a stream as morning comes. I notice some cobwebs within the stones below and the movement of spiders within them. Jaheira stops and turns to me urgently.
I take heed of her warning, and we take stock of our potions. We have several Elixirs of Health that can cure all known poisons, and between myself, Helga, and Jaheira we should have enough magic to help manage any poisons. I decide it’s not worth going back for more supplies, at least not until we see how dangerous this place is.
We cross the stream and see a man pacing back and forth, looking down at the ground and rubbing his hands. As soon as he hears us he perks up and rushes over to us.
Aegon: What is it that troubles you, stranger?
Tiber: Thank you! Thank… you. It’s my brother, you see. He and I went into Cloakwood to clear the woods of the spider colony that infests it. I know it sounds foolish… but my brother had found the sword “Spider’s Bane”! The sword was created to kill spiders… and we thought we could become famous… the heroes of Cloakwood, and all that. But my brother hasn’t returned yet… and it’s been more than a week. Please, could you go into the woods and find him for me? My mother would be so shattered if Chelak were to be dead.
Aegon: We’ll find your brother for you, don’t worry.
Tiber: Oh, yes! Please search quickly. His name’s Chelak. Be careful.
I look to the path that follows along the cliff. I realise we can no longer hear the sound of cicadas. The spiders must eat any that come here. It’s dark, so the spiders will find it easy to hide. I would that we could wait for sunrise, but if his brother is in there alone and lacks experience…
We cannot tarry. I say that we should make haste and to my surprise everyone agrees. Only White remains silent. Perhaps it is our fate to become the heroes of Cloakwood. Or perhaps we are as foolish as Chelak, rushing toward our death, clinging to the illusion that we are in control.
