Journal #6 - The Tree

After a night of recuperation, we continued on towards Tamalir. That morning, an elk with something shining in its antlers pranced towards us off a trail. Lug and I investigated it, and it turned out to be a Lunar Elk, capturing moonlight in its antlers, a spiritual being. Somehow, it felt our destinies had been linked.
 
After some resupplying, we rested in the Silken Bow, where Orlando met up with us. We received some antitoxin made from the troll venom, as well as some powerful healing potions. The journey on to Forge was uneventful.
 
As we entered the gates of Forge, a large crowd was blocking the way. Dwarven guards were out in force, and from what I heard, a magical tree had sprouted up overnight a few weeks ago. It was giant, and its leaves were colored in vivid hues of reds, oranges, and purples. It was the talk of the town, with people gathered around it, some worshiping it as a symbol of the gods. It was gargantuan in size, having collapsed three houses already. A fine chain encircled the tree, thirty feet away from the trunk.
 
Some entrepreneurs were taking advantage, selling leaves or branches purportedly plucked from the tree for outrageous sums. Orlando bought a leaf. Some Zealot was preaching about how this was an Echo Wood, an expansion from The Aymhelin. I jokingly suggested to Lug that he should turn into a squirrel and run into the tree, and then emerge pretending to be a god. I’m afraid he took me too seriously…
 
Before I knew it, he was standing near the zealots casting a growth charm on the tree. They looked on in awe as the tree expanded, becoming colossal as the chain which previously kept the crowd at bay began to be consumed by the trunk of the tree. The crowd was enraptured, calling Lug the Treespeaker and bowing down. A powdery colored dust began to fall upon the crowd, and us. I didn’t have the charisma to resist it, not apparently did anyone else in the square. The crowd disappeared in a flash of an eye, and then Lug, and then it went dark for me too. I was told after that Orlando was left alone in the courtyard, as everyone vanished in front of him.
 
In a big poof I emerged in a natural forest, dense, and dangerous feeling. It was dark, and there were almost twenty others including Lug. Many, but not nearly as many as had vanished from Forge. I climbed a tree to ascertain our locale, but it was too dark.
 
An old hag approached us some time later, she said we were in an unnamed forest, far away from Forge. She beckoned us to follow her to shelter. I had a deeply mistrusting feeling, but could think of no better alternatives. In hindsight, I wish I had run the other direction, and braved the forest alone.
 
Only ten could fit into her tent and eat her stew, and I was not going to be one of them. Random villagers earned that honor, while I sheltered the remainder of us, Lug included, in a magical hut. We had lost a few on the trek here, losing their way in the dark forest. We rested as well as could be, and when I awoke it was not where I expected. It was in fact inexplicable to me.
 
We were nowhere near where we fell asleep. Instead of a lonely hag’s hut, we were in a large room with a giant cauldron in the middle. From the sounds of it, there were more huts nearby. Lug had a dagger in his chest and was tied to a bed. Tybeerian was also there, and the last I’d heard he’d been on other business in Forge, nowhere near the tree. He was also restrained by a monstrously fair red skinned Tiefling. She took his blood, and put it into the cauldron, and sickeningly, gleefully giggled “30 moons my love.” It seemed to be a time period until she’d own his soul, as this stank of a blood magic ritual. I could hope that these witches measured whole cycles of moons like civilized cultures, but I feared it might just be their term for a day, and better to play it safe. 30 days to end the spell?
 
Those were some of my last coherent thoughts, that I can now put down on paper weeks later. I care not to reflect too heavily on what happened next. I was used as a play thing, after they took my own blood for their spell. My bonds were loosened, and I played for my freedom. It was a test of will, and eventually endurance, which I failed. I could feel myself becoming indifferent to them, rather than hostile to their attempts to steal my very soul. The Tiefling was apparently impressed however, as she introduced me to her redheaded bloodsister for my strong will. Tybeerian was put into a sleep that was anything but restful, and tortured in his dreams. I feared he would never wake.
 
But not me. Instead, they dared me to perform for ten days straight. If I could pull it off, I’d be free. All I could think of was to embrace the challenge, to use it to bolster my endurance to these witches. I’m sure I gave it my all, but I clearly failed. My consciousness drifted off, and I began to now play to live, but to live to play. To serve and entertain willingly. My fingers bled, my lute strings broke, and so did my mind.
 
The next thing I witnessed was coming-to with Domino and some old grandmother witch-master ushering the torturers out of the room, and restoring my own freedom of choice. I was utterly exhausted, but not quite as near to death as I seemed to remember when last I was awake.
 
The old woman said we had eight days until our souls would belong to the Tiefling, Thrizbana. Domino told us for now, our souls were our own. Eight days… that would mean I spent 22 in this room, and I performed 9 days straight before losing my mind. So close to 10…
 
Later I found that they had made Lug to torture critters, a druid. These are monstrous people.
 
We have eight days to do a task for Domino’s mother, the reward for which would be our souls. We must find her birthstone, some great power, hidden in the woods. Her father left it for her – we don’t even know who he was. Conceived on the soil beneath the Blackstone, to bring forth something that lay dormant there. It seems her very life was a manipulation. We must bring what rests there to the woman, and in turn she’ll tell Domino about her father, and give her our souls to do as she pleases.
 
It seemed a pressing matter, and yet somehow far from my mind. Barely able to walk, I smashed my lute to pieces. Just seeing it reminds me of how I abased myself. It is dead to me. That part of me is dead, at least for now. Then I passed out. re...