Of Small Trees and Large Spiders

It was a quiet night at least. And thankfully so, for what encounters and revelations have marked this morning and noon alone, could fill hours of story time. With the break of dawn, the four of us packed our belongings and set off for the former town of Thundertree. No one spoke much as we approached the withered ruins, all feeling the eerie stain of some dark magic clinging in the air and fearing the warnings we encountered last night.
The town that covered the glade in front of us probably never was large or particularly crowded. But the silence emanating now from the crumpled buildings was almost deafening, so absolute was it. Nothing moved, no bird sang, no mouse rustled through the brushes. Were it not for the desperation to finally find answers to our search for Cragmaw Castle, I could have well done without ever setting foot into the cursed town. Yet how it stood, there was no way around it. We entered from the north west on what once must have been the main road in and out. Most houses in our vision were undeserving of the name anymore, although some still stood with closed doors and barred shutters. In the town’s centre rises a small hill with the old remnants of a tower with a collapsed roof. To avoid undesired attention, we tried to keep as quiet as possible and not shout for Reidoth. We saw our only choice in checking house after ruin for any signs of the druid, hoping for the best as to not being ambushed.
 
The first house we came to was quickly identified as a former inn by the sign above the door, the mug in the horse’s hoofs gave it away rather quickly. I snuck up on one of the windows to scout for any signs of life yet could only see old furniture and heaps of rags or other fabric. Or so I thought. The moment we opened the door for a closer inspection, the two bundles on the floor suddenly moved and began shuffling towards us. In contrast to the undead we encountered with Hammun Kost, these creatures were covered in black smut from head to toe, which only served to make them appear more dreadful. Later we mused, this coating might have some connection with the eruption of Mount Hotenow. Although this might have been the reason for me not recognizing them for what they were in the first place, it is hard to face the fact that my friends were unprepared for this encounter due to my sloppiness… I have to be more careful next time! Without a man like Hammun around, we quickly went to business with the corpses, Grum und Nysqwen bravely in the front line accompanied by Ori, while Archie and I kept a little behind to make the best of our Mystra given abilities and guard our back. Archie’s magical shield worked true wonders, as Nysqwen was targeted by an undead claw that otherwise certainly would have left its mark. She countered it by almost cleaving the creature in half. The triumph quickly turned sour however as a cloud of black dust emanated from the slain body, filling the air around it to blur vision and greatly hinder breathing.
While we were still concerned with the other zombie, two further creatures crept from an adjacent room to join the fight. Luckily, they died for good easily enough before they could harm anyone severely. Shaking off the last effects of the black dust clouds, we searched through the inn for any clues regarding Reidoth, without success. It is truly astounding how our perception of the world around us must have changed over the past weeks. Before our search for Gundren, none of us, well perhaps with Nysqwen being the exception, would have been prepared for such encounters. And it still bestows fear and dread upon me, thinking how easily one of my friends could perish or what still lies ahead. Yet, we all brushed off the surprise of these new foes with relative ease to get our focus back on finding the druid and ultimately the captured dwarf.
 
Thus, we continued our search and faced a couple of less well-preserved sets of crumpled walls. As we approached the ruins, what on first glance had looked like small shoots revealed itself to be two small wooden figures, no taller than my hip, standing motionless in the gloomy underbrush. None of us had ever seen or heard of such creatures, we stood in awe at their humanoid, wooden features. Grum tried to talk to them for any reaction, yet none came. Suddenly, following some intuition, I began humming a low tune. And behold! Both figures began swinging softly in tune to the music! My conviction remains, music is the most powerful force in all the realms, connecting each and everything. Knowing its secrets would open up immeasurable possibilities – let us pray that no one ever finds such power. But the instinctive connection established by a few gentle notes fascinates me. I wonder how many wars would have been avoided, had both sides relied on such a mutually understandable language. Although such a feat surely is above any living being, I know of, should one master the craft, there might be endless possibilities…
For now, my musing was suddenly interrupted by Archie, who hissed that more tiny trees were approaching from all sides. And these seemed far less impressed by my musical prowess. Quite the opposite, they rushed towards us, thorn-like twigs raised, aiming for our faces. Once more, Archie’s caution saved us from the worst as we could ready our weapons just in time to defend our hides. On top of that, his natural connection with fire proved a valuable asset against an enemy purely made from wood. Archie and Ori wreaked havoc among the small creatures, against which even Nysqwen’s fierce battle axe paled in comparison. The boy sure has learned how to look after us, I am glad our past experiences did not shy him away but rather made him embrace our company as much as I do.
One of the two initially ensnared figures joined his kin in their attack of our group, the other however was still swinging softly when we had reduced the last of our foes to splinters. I cannot fathom what made the difference for this one, but I felt a strange feeling of connectedness to it, a fragile, delicate bond of harmonies, crafted to breed understanding. It did not seem indifferent to us beyond the sound of music, yet in this it was complacent. I endeavour to learn more of such unforeseen effects in my craft, however, this has to wait until we find Gundren and this black spider. After a short rummaging around in the ruins for anything useful, we discovered a small casket, containing a surprising amount of coins. Small village that Thundertree might have been, it certainly was not a poor one, judging by the remaining architecture around us and this find in particular. Nysqwen took care of our find and we set out again on our search.
 
The next house we came upon was in a significantly better shape than any we had seen so far. Moreover, its door was reinforced, and the shutters barred with additional wood, as to keep abreast the perils we have encountered so far. The only sensible conclusion was that this house was occupied by someone more loquacious than the undead, namely the druid we sought. Upon our knocking, the door was opened by a tall, white-bearded man in a leaf-green cloak. His eyes measured us from hard but not unkind features, before he enquired our intentions. In the following conversation, he indeed announced himself as Reidoth and bade us enter his homestead to bar the other inhabitants of Thundertree from an unpleasant surprise.
He told us that apart from the small creatures he called twig blights and the undead, a few giant spiders roamed the village, a revelation that was greeted with disgust by Nysqwen but keen interest by Archie. Yet the most surprising revelation was a green dragon, who claimed the old magicians tower we saw from afar as his new domicile and hoard not two weeks ago. What the beast was doing here, he could not say, only that green dragons tend to be deceptive, cunning creatures who generally are only interested in their own affairs. They thrive in lulling trespassers in a false sense of security before dissolving them with their acidic breath. Reidoth knew of no accounts were a green dragon had not been an evil creature, which was in line with our limited knowledge of such creatures. Only Archie seemed to know almost more than the druid, knowledge he had acquired in some old book, tainted as it may be through the author’s lens. Soon after the dragon, Reidoth continued, a group of dark clad men must have arrived in the village, occupying one of the houses to the south-east. They wore strange masks and hushed through the village the past days. We promised to cast an eye on these people as we were bound to recover the lost heirloom of lady Dendra before we would leave again.
In the matter of dealing with the dragon, Grum and Reidoth shared the opinion that it was a threat to the surrounding forest and a disturbance in the balance of nature, an abomination that had to be dealt with. For some reason, the old druid seemed somewhat reluctant to acknowledge my friend as a full-fletched colleague in the craft – maybe the arrogance of the old, judging youth for its lack in experience. But their equal love and care for nature seemed to bridge that gap. I wonder how he will view Grum, when he has taken care of the dragon with only our modest help. Grum certainly is not a dwarf to be underestimated!
We recounted our story of finding Gundrin and the ominous name of Cragmaw Castle, which he recognised at once. As we stated our intentions to put an end to the Goblin raids, he voiced his approval as they were a thorn in the side of natural balance for the past years, as he put it. He was willing to mark the location of the old castle on our map and told us a path through the forest for us to reach the keep as quickly as possible. As we spoke about the black spider, Nysqwen mentioned, she heard in Neverwinter this ominous figure would be a dark elf. Upon this remark, the druid mused that he had heard of a dragon, who could take the shape of an elf since the tragedy of the spell plague. This left us with more than just an uneasy feeling… Still, we promised to return afterward to deal with the matter of the dragon. Yet for now, our first destination was the eastern side of the village to get a feel for the alien company, Reidoth mentioned.
 
On our way through the ruins we encountered more twig blights, Archie quickly burned to ashes and came upon an old smithy where two more smut-covered zombies were slain. When we exited the former workshop, for the first time we saw incredibly large spider webs covering the front yard of two adjacent buildings. Reidoth mentioned, he knew of two more giant spiders roaming about, the others were killed either by the dragon or the foreigners. Carefully, Archie sent Ori to spy the way to what looked to be the old alchemy shop, Lady Dendra told us about. As he came close to the webs, the small barrel sprouted from Ori’s back and spewed a column of red fire in their general direction. Noiseless they burned away, paving our way into the old shop. Luckily, no spiders or other creatures awaited us inside and we found the small box with a golden necklace inside. In the little light that entered the building, it glimmered beautifully, untainted throughout all these years. When we come back to Phandalin, the heirloom finally will rest upon the shoulders of a Dendra once more.
 
A few more steps brought us in sight of the largest and best-preserved building, we had seen so far. This must have been the one occupied by the dark-clad men. We tried to eavesdrop on what was going in inside but could only hear conversation in a language unknown to us. As we had no business with these people beforehand, we decided to simply knock and see what would happen. Hopefully, these people would be well-reasoned. Instead of the door, the window shutter nearby was opened slightly, a masked face peering from the gloomy inside. A mask instantly recognisable. At least if one knew what was spoken about in hushed tones in the darkest corners of the worst quarters of Neverwinter. It was a mask, worn only by members of the Cult of the Dragon.
This unholy organisation can at best be described as plain mad, megalomaniac and nihilistic. They crave a pact with all evil dragons in Faerûn for power and influence. Some rumours even speak of intentions to bring Tiamat back into our realm. Upon the faces of my friends I could read that such knowledge was only mine and I decided to play dumb for the time being until these men revealed their intentions.
The man in the window asked for our names, which we told him, and our intentions, which we stated as being curious travellers, interested in the history of this place. He introduced himself as Favric. He and his company allegedly are here to speak to the dragon to discover his intents and, if possible, convince him to take refuge elsewhere or kill him for good. He stated, they were concerned for the safety of villages nearby, not that there are any, and that they were here to protect society from such dangers, a blatant lie in my books. Yet, I played along and offered our help, should they need it, to convince the dragon. This seemed to enlighten the man somewhat. I have a hunch that in his eyes, we would be a proper sacrifice to the dragon to get on with their real intentions, which can be anything but good. We asked if we may enter to avoid longer exposure to the doubtlessly surrounding zombies and twig blights, this would also allow us to get a better measure of their company. He agreed under the condition, we would all lay our weapons aside, out of reach for anyone. As if their presence here and demeanour so far would in and off itself not already be suspicious enough. But we complied, although it was visibly hard for Nysqwen to do so.
Once inside, we were treated to a common meal with the six cultists, all sitting on the floor and breaking bread. When Grum asked the men about their masks, Favric claimed them to resemble bats in honour of their sect to the goddess Lolth. I almost had to laugh, as that certainly was no better disguise than the truth of their cult. The Demon Queen of Spiders is certainly not well regarded by anyone but the drow. Favric however claimed, she was just misunderstood in her intentions and spun a few further lies to make her appear not the evil demon she is known to be. He even dropped his mask to show us, they were indeed human, not drow. He claimed, Lolth had an ancient feud with Tiamat, their motivation to get rid of this green dragon. Even though he openly stated, green dragons were deceiving beasts, he clung to his story of them wanting to talk the dragon away from Thundertree. We pretended to offer our help with their task, after we would have dealt with finding a lost friend of ours. Even if the knowledge my friends had regarding their true identity was not the same as mine, without a shadow of a doubt did they not believe a single word they had heard thus far. Soon after the lunch we took our leave, purporting to travel south to Cragmaw Castle, but then swinging around to speak to Reidoth again.
 
When we told him about what intel we gathered regarding the newcomers, I had filled in my friends beforehand, he looked extremely worried, mirroring what each of us felt. This Dragon Cult affair had to be dealt with as soon as possible. Now we are discussing, how to deal with six well-armoured, possibly fell-magic wielding cultists. We have to finish this today, Gundren cannot wait any longer. The dragon itself will have to wait until he is safe. And I cannot say I would be sad about not meeting a hateful, cunning beast the size of a small house. Should we survive all that is to come, the prospect of facing this creature already gives me cold sweats.