January 13th – 15th, 974
Session 32 Recap
Leaving the newly liberated village of Wolfpine to determine its own political future, the party declined repeated invitations to become constitutional scholars, governors, and civil servants. After entrusting Horace Bell, his surviving guards, and Thomas Weaver to the villagers’ custody, they turned west once more toward Briarfell Forest. Cassyndra also spent the journey studying the spellbooks recovered from the Revenue Mage and his clerk, adding several useful spells to her ever-growing repertoire.
Their return to Briarfell quickly revealed that something had gone terribly wrong. The headquarters of the Circle of the Second Growth stood deserted. The Orc settlement had been attacked by animated trees, its dead respectfully gathered before the survivors withdrew into the forest. Along the way the party encountered several inexplicable visitors from another world—including a solitary botanist, a solemn child bearing the title Junior Ranger, and eventually three United States Forest Rangers who, after an initially awkward discussion concerning weapons regulations, Gore-Tex, Rivets, Elvis Presley, and the Executive Branch, accepted that they had somehow crossed into Archea. Together the unlikely expedition followed the trail of the missing General Sherman, only to discover that the ancient tree had uprooted himself and wandered away.
Tracking the colossal trail eventually brought them to General Sherman himself, standing silently within a newly formed clearing. Before the party could determine his intentions, a Crown patrol emerged from another trail through the forest searching for a missing operative. The two groups compared notes and concluded that numerous disappearances throughout Briarfell—including those of the druids, the Orc tribe, and Laveleen—were somehow connected. Their investigation ended abruptly when General Sherman suddenly rediscovered the power of movement and battered them unconscious.
The session concluded with the party and Crown patrol awakening deep beneath Briarfell Forest, imprisoned alongside some missing druids, Orcs, and several other unexpected captives, leaving one question foremost in everyone’s mind:
Why had General Sherman taken them? And perhaps more importantly, why was he keeping them alive?
Awakening Underground
Consciousness returned slowly.
The first sensation was soreness. Every member of the party bore the aches and bruises expected after being on the losing side of an argument with a two-thousand-year-old tree. Heads throbbed. Muscles protested every movement. A few cuts and scrapes had already begun to stiffen. Whatever General Sherman had intended, he had clearly exercised remarkable restraint. They had been subdued—not slaughtered.
The second realization proved rather more alarming.
They had been disarmed.
Every piece of equipment not fashioned entirely from plant matter had disappeared.
Armor, weapons, coin purses, spell component pouches, thieves’ tools, cooking pots, lanterns, and countless other possessions had vanished. Left behind were only simple clothing and a scattering of items made entirely from wood, paper, or cloth. The confiscation had been thorough enough to suggest not theft for profit but adherence to some peculiar principle.
The cavern itself proved surprisingly hospitable for a prison.
Its twenty-to-thirty-foot ceiling disappeared into darkness overhead while walls composed of intertwined roots enclosed a broad chamber illuminated by patches of luminous fungi. Blankets of woven reeds, rough wooden benches, and several carefully constructed sleeping areas suggested that its previous inhabitants had been cared for reasonably well. A small stream of fresh water flowed through the middle of the cavern, emerging from one wall before disappearing into another. Nearby stood baskets containing mushrooms, roots, berries, and other unmistakably vegetarian fare.
More surprisingly still… they were not alone.
Gathered throughout the cavern were many of the people who had disappeared from Briarfell Forest during the preceding weeks.
Oakbeard and Mossyrock of the Circle of the Second Growth looked tired but healthy, while several surviving members of the isolated Orc tribe occupied another corner of the chamber alongside Laveleen. After the initial introductions, Mukden quietly excused himself and made his way over to speak with them.
The three United States Forest Rangers—Tom, George, and Judy—appeared no worse for wear despite the extraordinary circumstances that had brought them to Archea.
Nearby sat two individuals who introduced themselves simply as Heward, a travelling carpenter, and Sister Elira, an itinerant herbalist and healer. Both claimed to have belonged to a merchant caravan destroyed by the awakened trees before General Sherman had carried them here.
Finally, the Crown patrol stirred awake beside them just as a woman dressed in a traveler’s clothing quietly approached.
The patrol leader rose immediately, and the two smiled in recognition.
Being the professionals that they were, however, they exchanged a carefully rehearsed challenge and response before allowing themselves any further greeting. Satisfied with her replies, the Sergeant gave the slightest nod toward the patrol magic user, who discreetly cast Detect Thoughts to confirm that the expected memories accompanied the expected words.
Only then did the tension disappear.
“It’s good to see you again, Sergeant,” the woman said with obvious relief. “I was beginning to think you might have given up looking for me.”
The Sergeant smiled—a genuine smile that contrasted sharply with his usual professional reserve.
“You know us,” he replied. “We were raised better than that.”
The two shared the quiet smile of colleagues who had survived difficult assignments together. Whatever adventures lay in their shared past, it was immediately apparent that this was neither a superior greeting a subordinate nor strangers completing a security procedure. They trusted one another, and each was plainly relieved to discover that the other had survived.
Only then did the woman turn to the rest of the cavern.
“You may call me Helen.”
Whatever mission had originally brought her to Briarfell, the Crown’s search had finally succeeded.
Their operative had been found.
Unfortunately… she was just as much a prisoner as everyone else.
The Other Prisoners
Once the initial shock had begun to subside, introductions gradually followed.
Like the party, every occupant of the cavern told essentially the same story.
They realized something had gone terribly wrong in Briarfell Forest… then they encountered General Sherman… and shortly thereafter they had awakened in this underground refuge with their possessions confiscated and no obvious means of escape.
Oakbeard and Mossyrock explained that the Circle of the Second Growth had first noticed individual druids disappearing while investigating the increasingly strange happenings within Briarfell. A search party sent to recover the missing likewise failed to return. Growing increasingly concerned, the remaining druids eventually abandoned all pretense of normal work, gathered together, and set out as a single force to locate their missing companions.
Instead, they were ambushed.
Awakened trees attacked the expedition, scattering the druids throughout the forest. Oakbeard and Mossyrock remembered becoming separated from the others before eventually encountering General Sherman himself. Their next memory was awakening in the cavern.
Whether any of the remaining druids had survived, they could not say.
Laveleen and the surviving Orcs recounted a similarly grim tale.
The isolated tribe had been living quietly while Laveleen continued her study of their language and customs when multiple awakened trees descended upon the settlement without warning. Several Orcs were slain before the defenders managed to destroy one of their attackers and drive the remainder away. Realizing that they could no longer hold the village, the survivors gathered their dead together with due respect, collected whatever equipment they could carry, and scattered in small groups into the surrounding forest.
The retreat proved only a temporary reprieve.
This small group of survivors—five Orcs and Laveleen—eventually crossed paths with General Sherman. Like everyone else, they awoke beneath Briarfell with no memory of how they had arrived.
They likewise had no idea what had become of the rest of their tribe.
Tom, George, and Judy required considerably less explanation.
The three United States Forest Rangers had quite literally arrived in Briarfell alongside the party only the previous day. After an initially awkward discussion concerning weapons regulations and the remarkable differences between their respective worlds, they had simply joined the investigation. Together they had followed the trail of the wandering General Sherman until the Crown patrol appeared. While the Crown personnel and adventurers compared notes, the Rangers had wisely remained in the background. Moments later General Sherman had subdued everyone present, leaving the Rangers every bit as bewildered as the rest of the prisoners.
Two further captives introduced themselves as Heward, a traveling carpenter, and Sister Elira, an itinerant herbalist and healer. They claimed to have belonged to a merchant caravan attacked by awakened trees before General Sherman carried them below. Although neither appeared eager to dwell upon the loss of their companions, their account fit comfortably alongside the many similar stories already shared within the cavern.
Finally, conversation turned toward the Crown. With Helen safely recovered, part of the patrol’s original mission had, in one sense, been accomplished. Her extraction, however, remained very much a work in progress.
As the various groups exchanged stories, the Crown personnel naturally became interested in Mukden and the isolated Orc tribe. Their questions, however, produced remarkably few firm answers. Mukden himself seemed content to let the adventurers speak on his behalf, carefully avoiding saying more than circumstances required. When asked directly about his own story, he merely looked toward the party, leaving them to explain why an Orc who was obviously neither “feral” nor a slave was traveling in their company.
The explanation proved less than convincing.
The adventurers could offer little beyond the observation that they were traveling together and considered Mukden a friend. It was an honest answer, but not one that explained who he was, where he had come from, or why he differed so markedly from every other Orc the Crown believed still existed. Rather than satisfying the patrol’s curiosity, their hesitant replies only deepened it.
It was at precisely that moment that Heward quietly poured oil upon the flames.
Almost conversationally, he remarked that while everyone had been trapped beneath Briarfell, open war had broken out between the Crown and the Reclamation. He then proceeded to describe the fall of Hollowmere, attacks upon Crown positions, and the wider rebellion before concluding—with studied innocence—that he did not know what Mukden’s role might be, but doubted it was anything good.
The revelation visibly unsettled the patrol. Having entered Briarfell before hostilities began, they had no knowledge that the political landscape of Archea had changed so dramatically during their captivity. Their questions became noticeably more pointed until the party finally suggested that everyone postpone such discussions until after they had escaped. The patrol accepted the proposal—not because its suspicions had been satisfied, but because a far more immediate problem demanded everyone’s attention.
Privately, the patrol reached a simple conclusion. First they would escape Briarfell… then they would learn the truth about Mukden.
The Nature of the Prison
With the introductions (and interrogations?) complete, attention naturally turned toward a more immediate question.
Exactly what sort of prison had General Sherman created?
The longer-term prisoners proved surprisingly knowledgeable.
Oakbeard and Mossyrock admitted that they had spent much of their captivity attempting to communicate with General Sherman himself.
Success had been… limited.
Trees already perceived the world through a perspective profoundly different from that of animals, Oakbeard explained. Even when healthy, conversations with them demanded patience and considerable interpretation. General Sherman, however, no longer seemed entirely healthy. When he did speak, his words came as a bewildering mixture of poetic imagery, apparent contradictions, and incomplete thoughts.
Among the fragments the druids had carefully recorded were:
“The roots drink black rain beneath dry rivers…
…the river remembers…
…No.
No.
The river lies.
The roots…
…do not drink willingly.”
“The deer flee the wolves.
The wolves flee the fire.
The fire flees…
…no…
Fire does not flee.
“The oldest branch shelters every bird… Burn the branch!”
At this point, Oakbeard explained, General Sherman’s branches had creaked violently while the roots around him seemed almost to recoil.
“That wind does not blow from my forest.”
Rather than dismissing the sayings as nonsense, the party began searching for patterns. Merrythought suggested that General Sherman seemed almost to be speaking with two different voices—each statement possessing a “Side A” and a “Side B.” One voice sounded like the ancient guardian they had hoped to find. The other seemed to belong to whatever corruption had invaded him—the same corruption, perhaps, that now animated the hostile awakened trees. Whether the contradictory sayings concealed genuine clues or merely reflected a mind slowly losing its battle remained impossible to determine.
The prisoners then explained the practical realities of life beneath Briarfell.
Twice each day strange humanoid creatures quietly emerged from one end of the cavern itself. Forming directly from the living roots, each carried baskets of food and fresh water before silently collecting refuse and returning to the roots from which it had emerged. They spoke no words, responded to no attempts at conversation, and appeared entirely devoted to the care of their captives. Having never heard a better name for them, the prisoners had simply begun referring to them as Root Tenders.
The prisoners also explained how the heroes, Forest Rangers, and Crown patrol had arrived.
Rather than being dragged into the cavern through some hidden entrance, each had apparently been carried there by a Root Tender that had emerged directly from the roots themselves. The creature simply laid its unconscious burden upon the cavern floor before melting silently back into the living wall, leaving its newest prisoner to awaken naturally.
Escape, unfortunately, had already been attempted without success.
The druids had discovered that behind the woven wall of roots lay nothing more exotic than ordinary soil. Armed with little more than their hands, wooden bowls, and wooden spoons, they had patiently excavated an upward-sloping tunnel in hopes of reaching the surface. Their optimism proved short-lived. Once the Root Tenders discovered the excavation during one of their regular visits, they quietly filled the tunnel back in and restored the wall as though nothing had happened. They neither threatened nor punished the prisoners. Aside from quietly undoing every attempt to reach the surface, they behaved less like jailers than attentive caretakers.
The explanation immediately suggested a different approach.
Unlike the previous prisoners, Cassyndra possessed Move Earth. Should the party eventually decide to excavate, they could advance many times faster than a handful of captives armed with improvised wooden utensils. Whether that speed might prove sufficient to outrun the Root Tenders remained an intriguing—and entirely untested—possibility.
Before attempting any such venture, however, the party resolved to understand the cavern itself.
Cassyndra’s magical investigations revealed that the living roots surrounding the chamber possessed the faint, natural magic one might expect from so extraordinary a forest. More interestingly, however, the two ends of the oval cavern radiated distinctly different forms of magic. The prisoners pointed toward one end, explaining that the Root Tenders invariably emerged from there. The opposite end, by contrast, concealed something rather more disturbing.
Closer examination revealed a broad section of roots that had turned black, brittle, and unmistakably necrotic.
The Forest Rangers immediately knelt to examine them, methodically working through every disease, fungus, parasite, and nutritional deficiency familiar to twenty-first-century Earth forestry. None fit. Whatever afflicted these roots lay entirely outside their experience.
Oakbeard and Mossyrock reached a different conclusion.
“This,” they quietly observed, “is corruption.”
Wolfgang experimented by channeling healing magic into the diseased roots. To everyone’s surprise, the corruption receded from a patch roughly three feet in diameter and perhaps a foot deep. The druids cautioned that the effect would almost certainly prove temporary and expected the corruption to return.
Zborch proposed treating the healing as an experiment. If the corruption gradually returned, then the direction from which it advanced might reveal the direction from which it originated. Oakbeard and Mossyrock immediately embraced the idea, establishing an observation schedule to watch the roots over time.
By the following morning, after careful observation, the druids reached a tentative conclusion. The corruption damaging the roots appeared to spread from beyond the necrotic wall… and from somewhere deeper beneath the forest.
For the first time since awakening underground, the prisoners possessed not merely a hypothesis… but a direction.
The Excavation Begins
By the following morning, the prisoners had reached a consensus. If the corruption spread from somewhere beyond the necrotic roots and deeper beneath Briarfell, then there was little point in continuing to wait for rescue.
They would go directly to the source of the problem.
Where previous escape attempts had relied upon wooden bowls, spoons, and bare hands, Cassyndra possessed considerably better equipment. After preparing Move Earth for the day, she began excavating.
The spell immediately transformed what might have been weeks of labor into a practical undertaking. Great masses of soil quietly flowed aside beneath her magic, while the rest of the party stepped forward whenever larger stones needed to be shifted by hand (or saved for the construction of improvised war hammers). Progress that had once been measured in inches now came by the yard.
The remaining prisoners gathered to watch, offer suggestions, and lend assistance.
The druids pointed out subtle changes in the roots while the Rangers discussed methods of shoring unstable sections of tunnel. Mukden lent his strength wherever heavy stones required moving, apparently content to postpone politics until everyone first survived the journey, and the other Orcs joined him with a will.
The Crown patrol appeared content simply to observe the work while Helen held occasional quiet conversations with the Sergeant and, from time to time, the two merchants.
As the excavation continued, something else gradually became apparent – the Root Tenders never came. Hours passed. Then the better part of a day. By every previous account, the silent caretakers should long since have discovered the new tunnel and calmly begun filling it back in. Instead, they remained conspicuously absent.
At the time, no one thought much of the omission; the work simply continued.
Only much later would the party pause to wonder why General Sherman’s servants—normally so diligent in filling in upward tunnels—had apparently chosen to ignore this one entirely.
By the end of the day’s work, the excavation had become something more than an escape tunnel. It was now a genuine passage leading deeper beneath Briarfell.
The others remained behind while the adventurers took the lead, their companions apparently content to let those with the greatest experience of unexplored caverns, hostile monsters, and improbable survival take the first risks.
With little more than improvised equipment, borrowed courage, and Cassyndra’s magic, the expedition departed the cavern that had served as its prison.
Ahead lay only darkness… and whatever had poisoned Briarfell Forest.
The Underground River
The expedition’s first major obstacle appeared to be little more than a swift underground river.
Some twenty feet across, the icy current surged through a natural cavern before disappearing once more into the surrounding rock. The water itself looked unpleasantly cold and lethally fast, but the distance seemed manageable.
Zborch demonstrated as much.
Making use of his monk’s supernatural agility, he cleared the river in a single bound. A rope was thrown across to him, which he secured to the far side while Cassyndra anchored the near end by freezing a block of water around it with Shape Water. Within minutes, the party had fashioned what appeared to be a perfectly serviceable handline across the river.
Merrythought volunteered to cross first.
She had barely begun making her way hand-over-hand across the rope when something enormous moved beneath the surface and then the water erupted.
An immense cave shark erupted from the water, clamped its jaws around Merrythought’s leg, and tore away a painful mouthful before crashing back beneath the surface.
The crossing had suddenly become considerably more interesting… and considerably more dangerous. Fortunately, Zborch was already waiting on the far bank and quickly patched Merrythought’s injuries before matters became any worse.
Hunkle, deciding that lingering on the near bank accomplished little, simply jumped the river himself. Ant then used Spider Climb to traverse the cavern from above. Looking down from the thirty-foot ceiling, her Devil’s Sight revealed a second, equally unwelcome discovery.
There was not one shark.
There were two.
An experimental Eldritch Blast stirred the water impressively but proved essentially harmless against creatures lurking beneath the river’s surface.
The discussion that followed rapidly became one of the more entertaining engineering conferences of the expedition.
Wolfgang’s first proposal was both ingenious and deeply unsettling.
He suggested summoning Chorizo as a giant toad, having the enormous amphibian swallow each member of the expedition in turn, leap safely across the river, and politely regurgitate everyone on the opposite bank. The travelers would undoubtedly suffer some acid damage in the process, but Wolfgang reasoned that this represented a marked improvement over being eaten by cave sharks.
The party briefly gave the matter serious consideration before concluding that persuading a giant toad to vomit on command might prove the least reliable step in the plan.
Other suggestions followed.
Someone suggested that Chorizo simply become a whale large enough to fill the river completely, allowing everyone to stroll across his back. Wolfgang’s next idea proved considerably more practical.
Chorizo assumed the form of a giant spider.
Using the cavern walls and ceiling as anchor points, the enormous arachnid spun four stout web-lines hanging from the ceiling, allowing the expedition to swing safely across well above the waiting sharks. Calder Voss cast Light upon a stone and tossed it into the rushing water to to draw the predators’ attention away from the crossing. The nearly blind cave sharks investigated the novel light with great enthusiasm.
One by one, the heroes crossed followed by the rest of the group – Crown patrol, Forest Rangers, merchants, druids, and finally the Orc tribesmen.
Only afterward did Cassyndra observe that an orca might have frightened the sharks away entirely, since sharks generally avoid their much larger marine cousins. By then, however, Chorizo had already become a giant spider, and everyone agreed that hindsight was wonderfully inexpensive.
Behind them the underground river continued its relentless course.
Ahead, the tunnels descended still deeper beneath Briarfell… and toward whatever had corrupted General Sherman.
The Myconid Colony
Beyond the underground river, the tunnels widened once more into a broad cavern carpeted with mushrooms.
At first glance, the chamber appeared occupied.
Dozens of humanoid fungi stood rooted to the cavern floor and walls, silently observing the approaching expedition. Their stillness made it impossible to tell whether they represented another deadly encounter or merely curious spectators.
Oakbeard and Mossyrock recognized them – “Myconids.”
They explained that they were peaceful fungal folk, rarely encountered on the surface, who communicated not through speech but by exchanging clouds of specialized spores.
Rather than approaching weapons-first, the expedition wisely deferred to the druids.
Oakbeard and Mossyrock walked cautiously toward the colony while everyone else remained behind. The Myconids responded by releasing a faint cloud of drifting spores.
The two druids simply stood there and for several long moments, nothing happened. No words were spoken. No gestures exchanged. To everyone else in the cavern, the meeting appeared to consist almost entirely of two druids quietly staring at a collection of mushrooms.
Eventually the spores dispersed.
Oakbeard nodded politely. One of the Myconids inclined its cap in return.
The druids then rejoined the expedition.
The conversation, they explained, had been entirely cordial. The Myconids understood that the travelers sought the source of the corruption beneath Briarfell and bore them no ill will. They neither wished to join the expedition nor hinder it. Instead, the fungal colony simply stepped aside, opening a clear path through the cavern before returning to its silent existence.
Relieved not to have added “war with the mushroom people” to Briarfell’s growing list of problems, the expedition gratefully accepted the invitation and continued onward into the darkness.
The Awakened Trees
Beyond the Myconid colony, the tunnels narrowed once more before opening into another broad chamber.
This time, however, the expedition did not blunder into danger.
Ant’s Devil’s Sight pierced the darkness well beyond the limits of ordinary vision, revealing two corrupted awakened trees capering aimlessly within the cavern ahead. More importantly, the trees gave no indication that they had noticed the approaching expedition.
For the first time since entering the underground passages, the party possessed the priceless advantage of surprise and intended to exploit it fully.
Rather than charging forward, the expedition halted to plan. The earlier battle in Briarfell had already taught them one valuable lesson: awakened trees disliked fire. Everyone immediately took stock of every flame-producing resource still available despite the loss of most of their equipment.
Cassyndra still possessed Fireball.
Unfortunately, without her component pouch, she lacked the sulfur needed to cast it.
The party immediately dispatched the surviving Orcs to search the surrounding tunnels for suitable sulfur deposits while everyone else inventoried every remaining spell and improvised resource capable of producing flame. Before long the searchers returned with enough sulfur to satisfy the spell’s material requirements.
Calder Voss faced a similar problem. Stripped of his component pouch, he lacked the wax required for Flaming Sphere. Once again, the party improvised, sacrificing several candles to provide the necessary material.
Only after every available source of fire had been identified did the discussion turn to tactics.
Particular attention was devoted to the awakened trees’ devastating bark-splinter attack. Having already experienced its lethality once before, the party agreed that allowing both trees to unleash the barrage simultaneously would be disastrous. Their opening assault would therefore concentrate on destroying one tree before it had any opportunity to retaliate.
Positions were assigned, lines of advance considered, and fields of fire discussed while Chorizo spun two sturdy silk barriers intended to absorb or deflect the anticipated hail of bark splinters. By the time the planning concluded, every member of the party knew precisely where they intended to stand when the battle began.
The remaining members of the expedition—the Crown patrol, Forest Rangers, druids, Orcs, and the apparent merchants—wisely remained behind the front line. Whether from prudence or confidence in the adventurers, they seemed content to let the professionals confront the corrupted guardians first.
Only when everyone was satisfied that the plan could not be improved further did the attack begin.
Cassyndra’s opening Fireball struck with devastating effect.
Fire blossomed through the cavern as the carefully husbanded spells found their marks. The awakened trees responded exactly as anticipated, recoiling violently from the flames before lumbering toward their attackers.
The plan worked almost perfectly.
One awakened tree collapsed before it could unleash its bark volley at all, leaving only its companion to blanket the cavern in razor-sharp splinters.
The remaining tree unleashed the same terrifying hail of bark that the party had encountered previously. Merrythought immediately recognized that the cavern itself offered protection and sheltered behind a massive boulder while the storm of splinters swept harmlessly overhead. Elsewhere the party maneuvered around the creature’s crushing branches while continuing to exploit its obvious vulnerability to fire.
Although the battle demanded caution rather than brute force, the party’s meticulous preparation paid handsome dividends.
At last, the corrupted guardian crashed to the cavern floor, its long suffering finally brought to an end.
Preparing for the Unknown
Silence gradually returned to the cavern and the smell of scorched wood still lingered in the air as the Merrythought cautiously advanced beyond the fallen awakened trees. One glance proved sufficient. She quietly returned to the others.
“There is…” she began carefully, “…rather a lot going on in there.”
From her description alone, the expedition concluded that they had almost certainly reached the heart of the corruption. Whatever lay beyond the next chamber was clearly unlike anything they had encountered thus far. Charging blindly forward would have been folly.
Instead, everyone paused to take stock of and treat injuries.
Calder Voss called upon divine magic to restore the group more broadly, his Mass Healing Word washing away much of the accumulated damage from sharks, bark splinters, and crushing branches alike. Spell slots, remaining resources, and improvised equipment were all carefully reviewed before anyone contemplated taking another step.
Meanwhile, Zborch and Merrythought found themselves thinking once more about the Myconids.
Curiosity—and perhaps a lingering appreciation for fungal methods of communication—drew them back to the peaceful colony for one final exchange of spores.
This conversation proved considerably more informative than the first. The Myconids confirmed that the corruption did not end with the awakened trees. Its source lay beyond the chamber ahead, deeper beneath Briarfell. The guardians the party had just defeated had merely stood watch over the final approach.
Armed with that knowledge, the pair rejoined the expedition.
Only then did the party begin noticing something else.
While they had spent the better part of a day digging tunnels, engineering river crossings, and fighting corrupted trees, the remainder of the expedition had hardly remained idle.
Helen had held a series of quiet conversations with the Sergeant, the Forest Rangers, and the apparent merchants. Heward and Sister Elira had likewise circulated among the various groups with remarkable ease, quietly learning names, backgrounds, and opinions while rarely drawing attention to themselves. Even the druids and surviving Orcs had spoken quietly among themselves whenever opportunity presented itself.
During one such lull, Tom quietly drew the party aside.
Helen, he explained, had approached the three Rangers with an offer. If they helped the Crown understand their world—its governments, technologies, and sciences—the King would see them safely housed and protected within his palace until some means could be found to return them home.
It was, Tom admitted, an entirely reasonable proposal.
It was also the first unmistakable sign that the various factions were already beginning to think beyond the corruption beneath Briarfell.
The party gradually realized that, while they had been solving the expedition’s physical problems… everyone else—other than Mukden—had been quietly addressing its political ones.
Mukden, by contrast, had remained conspicuously restrained. Although the surviving Orcs represented precisely the audience one might have expected him to cultivate, he appeared determined to postpone politics until the immediate crisis had been resolved. He lent his strength wherever it was needed, offered no speeches, and made no attempt to recruit anyone to any cause.
The contrast was difficult to ignore. As the others quietly positioned themselves for whatever future awaited after Briarfell, Mukden – and the heroes themselves – remained focused entirely upon surviving the present.
The party found itself wondering whether the corruption had, in some respects, been simplifying their lives. So long as General Sherman remained ill and Briarfell continued to decay, everyone in the expedition shared a common objective.
The moment that problem was solved… their alliance might well come to an end.
With improvised weapons prepared, wounds tended, and no further excuse to delay, every eye eventually turned toward the chamber ahead.
Somewhere beyond its entrance lay the source of Briarfell’s corruption. The expedition took one final breath… and prepared to confront it.
How We Left the Heroes
The party stands only a few steps from what appears to be the heart of Briarfell’s corruption.
Beyond the next chamber lies the mysterious Root Nexus, the apparent source of the blight that has poisoned General Sherman, twisted awakened trees into murderous guardians, and slowly spread corruption throughout the forest. Thanks to Merrythought’s reconnaissance and the guidance of the Myconids, the expedition knows that whatever answers they seek almost certainly lie just ahead.
The heroes are as prepared as circumstances permit. Wounds have been treated, spells inventoried, tactics discussed, and the expedition has paused for one final moment before committing itself to whatever awaits beyond the cavern entrance.
Behind them, however, stand companions whose interests are becoming increasingly uncertain.
The Crown patrol has recovered its missing operative, Helen, but now knows that a civil war has erupted during its captivity. It remains deeply suspicious of Mukden and has quietly resolved to learn the truth about him once the immediate crisis has passed.
The Forest Rangers have received an offer of protection from the Crown in exchange for sharing knowledge of their own world—an offer they have not accepted, but neither have they rejected.
The two apparent merchants, Heward and Sister Elira, continue to present themselves as harmless civilians while quietly cultivating relationships throughout the expedition.
The druids seek only to heal Briarfell.
Mukden continues to avoid politics entirely, choosing instead to help wherever he can while postponing any discussion of the surviving Orc tribe’s future until the forest has been saved.
For the moment, everyone still shares a common purpose.
The corruption has kept this unlikely coalition together but whether that alliance survives its destruction… remains to be seen.
Campaign Notes
A couple of rules clarifications also emerged during the session.
Flanking. Midway through the evening, the players advised the Dungeon Master that the optional flanking rule granting advantage on melee attacks is not part of the standard D&D 5E rules being used for this campaign. The flanking bonus therefore quietly vanished from existence, never to be spoken of again. History was rewritten with remarkably little complaint from the inhabitants of Archea who seem to be used to this sort of thing by now.
Armor. After the session concluded, the Dungeon Master made a second, somewhat more alarming discovery. Since General Sherman had confiscated every item not made entirely of plant matter, most of the party had spent the session fighting without armor. Unfortunately, the Dungeon Master had neglected this rather significant detail while adjudicating combat.
Accordingly, the Armor Classes recorded on the character sheets were temporarily far more optimistic than reality justified. Next session, unless armor is somehow recovered, everyone should expect to rely upon their unarmored Armor Class instead.
For most characters this will simply be – 10 + Dexterity modifier
although several party members possess class features that improve upon this:
- Zborch (Monk): 10 + Dexterity modifier + Wisdom modifier
- Hunkle (Barbarian): 10 + Dexterity modifier + Constitution modifier
- Cassyndra, Merrythought, Ant, Wolfgang, Calder Voss, and most NPCs: 10 + Dexterity modifier unless protected by a spell or other special ability.
The Dungeon Master has been informed of this development and solemnly promises to remember it next session.
Whether the players appreciate this newfound commitment to accuracy remains… doubtful.