Skyfell - Rise of the Glutton : Session 28

Introduction

A little while back I started a once-per-month Dungeons and Dragons campaign in my Skyfell setting that I call The Rise of the Glutton. I wanted to provide my players with a log of their adventures and then realized that such a log might make for fun blog posts. See Rise of the Glutton in my Session Index for a complete listing.

The cast is:

Zachary - Tauffae Twofeather Topshelf - male orc, Fighter (Champion)

Dan - Drekzhar - male minotaur, Bard/Rogue (College of Swords, Swashbuckler)

Laura - Meribore Softwalker - female fitbolg, Druid (Circle of the Moon)

Rodney - Bronte Whitewinter - male firbolg, Cleric (Tempest Domain)

Jeff - Omagoshno - male rock gnome, Artificer (Artillerist)

Session 28 - The Heroes of Moss Creek : The Bad Seed

Preparation

I wrote the summary for Session 27 a few months after the fact and just a week before session 28 was scheduled to be held. As a result, it is not as detailed as usual but its writing got me thinking about how I wanted session 28 to progress in a way that I perhaps haven't done before.

I started this arc with a simple progression in mind. I realized, though, that my initial idea for the third session would potentially prolong the story needlessly. This felt especially true given how far apart each session had been. The previous session had been in February. The one before in December. That sort of dispersed timeline makes the story feel longer than it really is. 

Perhaps more importantly, I was eager to wrap up Bronte’s story. With the departure of his original player, and then the departure of his substitute player, I was not enamored of finding a third surrogate for our firbolg cleric. Don’t get me wrong. I love these characters as much as their players do. But the Fates were making it clear that it was time to bring Bronte’s story to a close.

With that in mind, I asked Rodney to once again take control of Bronte on what I had come to realize was the character’s final session. Rodney had done such a wonderful job continuing with the thread that Megan had nurtured from all the groundwork Michelle had worked into the character. My wife was once again gracious enough to take control on Tauffae in Rondney’s stead. All seemed set but then life threw (another) curveball. She would have to miss out of the session. Fortunately, Rodney’s son was happy to play and so it was he who joined in as Tauffae.

All this player shuffling went on just a couple of days before the session. Choas is a part of life.

Ironically, my own schedule had left me little time to prepare until around the same time. So while I was busy trying to finalize the players I was also trying to finalize the story. I threw out the encounter that was in my original outline for this session of the arc and went to what you are about to read. If I’m being honest, I didn’t have a firm grasp of the final encounter until about an hour before the session began. Those last-minute changes, though, made for a much better story and what turned out to be one of the most emotionally charged moments I've had in a roleplaying game.

The only aspect of the preparation that I did finish ahead of schedule was building out the map. Of course, I used the Heroscape landscape with a healthy smattering of the mushroom miniatures that I've been collecting from Dollar Tree over the last couple of years. Hot DM tip: check out Dollar Tree every season for inexpensive props that are sometimes appropriate for DND, like the mushrooms that have been available every spring and the snow-covered walls I picked up a few years ago during Christmas.

The Map

Usually, I build out the map on a piece of foam board and "hide" it in another room (though some of my more snoopy players have managed to sneak peaks at various maps before I had unveiled them. You know who you are. HAHA.). This time, though, the map was so big that I simply built it out on the table and then covered it with a blanket so that they couldn't see it. I did this once before when I built an entire tree village for a different campaign. If you dig deep enough into my Instagram, you should be able to find pictures of that map. 

Pre-game

We gathered and settled in. There was the usual catching up. Chatting in Discord is not the same as real-life face-to-face interactions so it was really nice to see everyone once again. 

I did a quick recap while Rodney’s son went over Tauffae’s character sheet. Then, we got started.

In-game

Bronte wrestled with the prospect of turning away from Hiatea and toward Aerdrie Faenya. He prayed and meditated upon this difficult choice late into the mid-gloom. Eventually, fatigue won out and he fell into a fitful sleep. 

Morning, however, brought clarity. For the first time in his life, Bronte was sure of himself, sure of his god, and sure of where his faith belonged. Feeling not unlike a child about to disappoint his parent, he made the proper apologies to Hiatea, thanking her for her years of kindness and guidance. He prayed for forgiveness in this, his last offering to the firbolg god. 

And then, with a touch of guilt and no small amount of concern, he turned his faith toward Aerdrie Faenya, the elfeyash god of storms whose temple they had discovered only the day before. These prayers came easily, as did the blessing of the day's spells that he prepared. He suddenly understood that his faith had always hindered his prayers. Now, his faith fueled them. It fueled his soul. It made him whole. It was clear, now, how faith should feel and he felt it.

Aerdrie Faenya
Source: Dragon Magazine #60

The rest of the party awoke and prepared for what they were certain was going to be underwater combat. They then made their way back to the dead tree where they had fought the evil mushrooms and flesh mounds the previous day.

As they went along, our heroes kept a close eye on the tendrils of black sludge that snaked along the bed of the river. This material, with a consistency and appearance of thick, lumpy oatmeal, was ever so slowly making its way downstream and would eventually reach the burrow. It was quite clear to everyone that this stuff was spreading the disease and that it’s source was indeed the lake. Meribore’s senses told her as much.

From the dead tree, they continued upstream toward the lake. Thick tangles and water-logged terrain made for a difficult march. The muddy waters were too deep for Oma to easily navigate and so he rode on Drekzhar’s shoulders for most of the way. As they went along, the sludge in the river became thicker until it covered the entire bed.

A little more than an hour later, the terrain leveled out. Soon after that, the forest cover broke out into the shoreline of a broad lake covered in a light mist. The outlet that served as the river’s source was clogged with the sludge. The material plunged down into the lake, following the curve of the land. 

Nearby, they found a massive collection of gnome remains composed mostly of bone and scraps of clothing. The pattern of the remains suggested a group had been caught unawares at the lake’s shore and massacred. The party guessed that this was the group of gnomes who had fled to the lake during the initial conflict at the burrow. Their bodies had since been picked clean and scattered by the local fauna. As though to emphasize the fact, there were a pair of velociraptors down the shoreline. At first, everyone thought these animals were watching them, but then they realized that the predictors were acting in a strangely mechanical way, cycling through the exact same movements repeatedly. The behavior was reminiscent of the original, undead crew of The Howling Wind (see Session 2). A closer survey of the creatures confirmed that they were, in fact, undead and on autopilot.

This mystery solved, the party turned to the sludge and a discussion of what to do next. As they discussed, the sludge bulged up out of the water as though a giant air bubble had pushed its way to the surface. The bulge tore an opening into the sludge with a sigh to reveal a root-like passage had been formed inside the stuff. The air inside was stale, muddy, and tainted with rot.

None too excited to walk into the mouth of death, the party decided to scout out the sludge tunnel first. Meribore changed into a plesiosaur. The rest of the group held onto her as she swam along the sludge down into the lake. Everyone was still under the effects of the water breathing spell Meribore had cast in the morning. The sludge became thicker and larger the deeper they went. Eventually they reached the bottom of the lake where the entire surface was covered in the cursed material. There, at the bottom, we’re also woody remains that reminded everyone of the evermore tree back on the Dead Island (see Session 22). They couldn’t find an alternate opening or entrance though, so they returned to the surface and begrudgingly opted to take the tunnel.

The tunnel seemed to breath as they headed toward the lake bottom. Soon, here and there, slivers of rotting wood appeared embedded in its walls. As they descended, more and more slivers replaced the sludge until finally the walls were completely made of wood. The shape and texture was similar to the hollowed out roots back on the Dead Island leading everyone to suspect that they were indeed in the remains of an evermore tree. 

Soon, their suspicions were confirmed as the root opened into a huge chamber. Its gnarled floor, walls, and ceiling were pockmarked with pools of sludge. What appeared to be a giant stump rose up at the center of the chamber; a matching structure grew down from the ceiling directly above. Between the two was a large gap filled with an ambient glow that seemed to be radiating out of the lower stump. Scattered around the chamber floor were four tree suckers, each about a foot wide and three of four feet tall. Each held aloft a heart seed just like the one at the center of Sil-T'sinia’s tree (see Session 3). The party guessed, and would later confirm, that these were the hearts of the diseased dryad and that there would be a fifth one somewhere in the chamber.

Everywhere, streams of sludge slithered about the crenellations that twisted the chamber’s surfaces. These streams pulled their way up the sides of the central stump, they suffocated the suckers, and they imprisoned the heart seeds. And everywhere there were diseased campestri.

As they party cautiously moved forward, the foul mushrooms filled the chamber with a discordant hymn in Sylvan. (Perhaps it might have sounded a bit like this if not for the dozens of off-key voices crackling through a cacophony of ranges and tempos.)

From each of the tree suckers emerged a diseased dryad: Sil-T'soo, Sil-ob'at, Sil-Ch'at, Sil-!aryo, and Sil-Laɠee. (Hello. It's your friendly neighborhood Dungeon Master. So that this reading is easier to follow, I'm letting you know the names of the drayds now and I will refer to each by their names from now on. The characters did not know these names. Neither did the players. So, dear reader, rejoice in this moment of dramatic irony.)

The Diseased Dryad
Source: Monster Manual (5e) with Digital Manipulation

“Welcome warriors.” The words filled the chamber, five separate voices speaking as one. “Humble yourselves before the glory of the Fey Splinter. Sacrifice all that you are for its love. Surrender yourself entirely to its will. Pledge to do all that it commands and you will know true freedom; freedom of mind, freedom of spirit, freedom from death, and freedom from the shackles of life. Join us and restore Skyfell to its glory."

Bronte and Tauffae slowly moved forward to the central stump. Tauffae met the gaze of Sil-Laɠee. In his mind, he heard her promising the chance to destroy his enemies and reap honor for so many murderous deeds in battle. This sounded too much like the rhetoric his father used to throw at him and that he had rejected. He pushed these temptations aside with a snarl, cursing his father and once again rejecting his idiology.

Meribore inched her way closer to Sil-T'soo. She too found herself getting lost in the dryad's gaze as promises of playing a crucial role in saving Skyfell filled her mind. Like Tauffae, she was able to shake off the temptation to indulge in those promises. 

Oma moved off to the side trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

While all this was happening, Drekzhar remained slightly behind and started singing The Heroes of Moss Creek, hoping that it would have the same effect on the diseased campestri as it had before. Despite a stellar performance, the mushrooms continued, unflinching, with their choral piece. 

"Submit to the Splinter or approach no further?" the voices said. This time, however, there seemed to only be four voices rather than five. 

Bronte continued toward the stump.

Meribore moved closer to Sil-T'soo.

"Come no further," the voices commanded.

Bronte kept moving toward the stump.

Tauffae moved out ahead of him only to be distracted by Sil-!aryo. This dryad reached out add pleaded with Tauffae to help them help his friends see reason. The importance of saving all of Skyfell was self evident, right? So, our heroes should most definitely help secure a better future for everyone.

"Hey Bronte," Tauffae said. "We should listen to the tree ladies. They just want what's best."

Oma cast invisibility on himself.

"So be it," said the voices.

All the dryads except Sil-ob'at back into their trees. Sil-ob'at stood there, confused and uncertain. The campestri didn't miss a beat, however, and immediately changed their tune to a more ominous choral piece. (Which sounded something like this, but with far more uncontrolled and unsynchronized muchness.)

Drekzhar noticed Sil-ob'at's hesitation and started toward her thinking that he might help her to continue to resist whatever force this so called Splinter was exerting over her. Part of his plan was to cast lesser restoration on her to get rid of the disease and cure her once and for all.

Bronte cast spirit guardians and quickened his pace toward the stump. The spirits, who were a mix of elfay and aarakocra, made short work of a few of the diseased campestri that didn't get out of the way soon enough. He intended to climb the stump and identify the source of light emanating from it. Unbeknown to anyone else, Oma headed toward the stump with the same idea in mind.

"Hey Bronte," Tauffae continued. "Listen."

As all this unfolded, Sil-ob'at finally regained herself and stepped back into her tree. Immediately, tendrils of sludge reached out from all the pools near the stump (on the floors, walls, and ceiling) toward it. Slowly, a large, winged creature resembling a dragon took shape upon the stump.

The Sludge Dragon (Sort of)
Source: Monster Manual, 5e

Immediately, a cluster of thorns sprang up around Meribore, Tauffae, and Drekzhar. The tangles slowed their progress but they did eventually break free of them. This assault was enough to shake Tauffae's support for the dryad cause and he hurried toward Bronte's side to protect him as he climbed the stump.

The sludge dragon took flight. Clumps of black goo dripped from its body and wings as it wheeled on Bronte and Tauffae. The thing blasted them with a cone of sludge. As our heroes struggled to recover from the attack, wild ideas of murdering their friends flitted through their thoughts. Thankfully, neither of them acted on those strange impulses and managed to keep their anger focused on the beast.

As the dragon positioned itself for another attack, Bronte cast banishment on it and it disappeared with a loud pop.

Meanwhile, Meribore hurried to Sil-T'soo's tree. A quick assessment confirmed that the tree heart was trapped within but a tendril of black sludge clung to the sides of the tree and coated the heart. Meribore decided to whack at the sludge away with her staff. This seemed to clear a little of the stuff away, but not enough to her liking so she transformed into a quetzalcoatlus and started biting at the sludge. As the foul stuff filled her mouth and nostrils, she too was suddenly contemplating the many ways that she might kill her friends. The friend nearest her was Drekzhar and so she trailed after him eager to work out the best way to kill him.

Couatl Meribore Eats Some Sludge

With the sludge dragon out of the way, and unaware of Meribore's dark intentions, Drekzhar decided to focus his efforts on the tree heart belonging to Sil-ob'at. He hurried toward that particular tree only to stop short of his destination as the dryad emerged. So too did the other dryads emerge from their trees.

(Hello. It's your friendly neighborhood Dungeon Master once again breaking the fourth wall to bring you a meta moment. The paragraphs that follow focus on individual characters but the events that they describe happened simultaneously during turn-based combat. This narrative approach seemed like the cleanest way to present the story. Thank you.)

Sil-T'soo prostrated herself before her tree and, through prayer to the Fey Splinter, directed more sludge to consume the heart once again. Sil-Laɠee tree-stepped next to Sil-T'soo and joined in the prayer. Together they undid all the "cleaning" that Meribore had managed.

Sil-ob'at snarled at Drekzhar and said something in Sylvan which he didn't understand. He replied, though, with calming words in Common, explaining that they were there to save the island and to save all the dryad from the disease that was poisoning them. He explained that they were friends with Sil-t'sinia and the gnomes at Moss Creek burrow. He explained that everyone on the island wanted to save her and the other diseased dryad. And he suggested that he could do it with a single touch. Sil-ob'at hesitated but did not attack him. Her inaction was enough to encourage Drekzhar to come closer. It also helped that Meribore in couatl form was right behind him, literally having his back in case something went sideways. (He was, of course, completely unaware that Meribore's mind had been taken over with an unreasoning need to kill him.) He touched Sil-ob'at and cast lesser restoration. The disease that swirled around her disappeared. The sludge peeled away from her tree heart and the glow that the heart gave off change from a sickly gray to a vibrant green. Sil-ob'at hugged the heart, smiling broadly and gratefully at Drekzhar. This display momentarily distract Meribore away from her murderous task and she came to her senses before she could even try to bite off Drekzhar's head.

Sil-!aryo emerged from her tree and prepared herself for combat. Tauffae, noticing this, threw himself at her with the intent to subdue her and perhaps even convince her to give up her evil ways. A good hug always made Tauffae feel better and so it only made sense that doing the same here would help Sil-!aryo shake of the influence of this so called Fey Splinter. In a quick bound he was at her side and in another moment he had her grappled. Sil-Ch'at, seeing that her sister was in trouble, stepped back into her tree and emerged out of Sil-!aryo and began attacking Tauffae with a heavy staff. 

With some difficulty, Bronte climbed to the top of the stump. Oma arrived at about the same time and dropped his invisibility to let his friend know that he was there with him. The surface of the stump sloped down almost like a funnel. At the base of this "funnel" was a tear in the rotting wood, opening into what could only be described as a pocket of negative space that was clearly not within Skyfell. There, the rotting heart of the evermore tree, coated in the black sludge, pulsed with a sickly, malevolent glow of a deep-rooted curse. Just beyond the heart was another rip that seemed to open into another location, one whose wild fey energies even Bronte could feel pouring into the pocket and feeding the heart.

Bronte and Oma Ascend the Stump

The rift was not big enough for Bronte though. So, he scrambled down to it. Calling upon the blessings of Aerdrie Faenya, he used his hammer to smash through the rotted wood. The strike widened the rip enough for him to fit. He leaped into the pocket of negative space within and onto the rotting heart.

Oma hopped down through the gap to join him.

"Oma," Bronte said. "Get out of here. You're not safe."

"You're my friend," Oma said. "I'm not going to let you do this alone."

"Together then," Bronte said.

He closed his eyes and pleaded with Aerdrie Faenya to give him the strength to destroy the curse and heal Moss Creek once and for all. All of this was to be done in her honor and in her name, and in the honor of all those ancients of Piruna Fields who had been destroyed by the Cataclysm. His heart quickly filled with a crackling warmth as nascent tendrils of lightning bubbled up out of his hammer.

The quartz rock that Oma had found back in the catacombs on their way to the Shadowfell (see session 10) and that had responded to the lightning trap on the Clockworks of Carnage citadel (see session 17) was now responding to the holy lightning that Bronte was gathering around him, almost as though something within the stone was waking from a long slumber.

With lightning and thunder rumbling all around him, Bronte brought down his hammer onto the rotting evermore heart, channeling greater restoration through the strike. The lightning spidered out from the hammer, disintegrating the sludge and decimating the rotting heart. The momentum of the strike carried both him and Oma down to and through the opposite tear in reality.

They crashed onto a grassy field whose vegetation hummed with a vitality wholly unlike that of Skyfell. They were in a pure sort of wilderness, one that could not be described but could only be imagined in dream or in prayer. It was what the wildest places of Piruna Fields might have once been but were no longer. There was no hint of the rift anywhere. That doorway was closed, perhaps forever, leaving Oma and Bronte stranded in a strange, new world without their friends.

In Oma's pocket, the quartz shimmered and sparked. That energy danced across his skin and along his spine. With that energy came a soft whisper that tickled his mind, "I am Alya," it said. "Who are you?"

In Bronte's hand, there was a seed, alive and healthy and longing to grow into a new evermore tree. He thanked Aerdrie Faenya for her help and for the opportunity to renew the life of such an ancient entity. He only wished that Meribore could participate in its planting and growth.

"Well f**k me," came a squeaky voice in Sylvan. "You don't see that every day, now do you?"

Bronte and Oma looked down at the ground to see a furry little creature with floppy ears and a single horn standing on its hind legs regarding them. It wriggled its button nose as it flitted its gaze back and forth between the two of them, taking in what was clearly a new experience. Its smile was infectious.

They Meet a Strange Creature
Source: Tomb of Annihilation, 5e

Back in Skyfell, tendrils of lightning skittered through the bark of the dead evermore tree, lancing out toward the pools of sludge in the chamber floor, walls, and ceiling. The eerie light that had been emanating from within the stump flickered and winked out. The lightning died away.

The evil mushrooms stopped singing.

The dryads stopped fighting.

An uneasy calm settled in the chamber.

And then, the black sludge around the stump began to shrivel into a thin crust. That effect quickly spread to all the pools. Everywhere, that desiccated, brittle material began to crack under the pressure of the entire weight of the lake pressing down on it. Sprays of water shot through those cracks, breaking away chunks of the stuff so that water began pouring into the chamber from all angles. 

End session 28

Experience earned:

Bronte -  ——
Drekzhar -  2352 (55,328 total)
Meribore -  2330 (54,792 total)
Omagoshno -  —-
Tauffae -  2330 (55,132 total)

Supplemental Materials

Fair Thee Well, Bronte and Oma

I mentioned in the beginning of this summary that my plan was to bring Bronte's story to a close. I had a few ideas in mind on how this might come about, including leaving Bronte on Moss Creek to restore Aerdrie Faenya's temple and her faith. But as every Dungeon Master knows, players have a way to take the story in their own, often better, direction. And this is exactly what Rodney did with Bronte. And this conclusion is really only a conclusion for Bronte's arc in Skyfell. The ending that played out leaves open so many more possibilities than I could have hoped for, including one of a growing faith for Aerdrie Faenya and of hope for restoring the evermore tree.

Oma's departure came as a complete surprise to everyone but was, apparently, an idea that Jeff had been toying with for a while. After the session, he explained that he just did not feel as though he had the time or energy to fully explore Oma and the artificer class. He was more familiar with, and more comfortable with, a different class entirely. Moreover, he felt he was losing excitement for Oma and wanted to move on. The in-game justification for Oma's decision was simple, and it was roleplayed quite nicely. Oma had formed a deep friendship with Bronte for many reasons, the least of which being the time they spent working on Bronte's arm. Oma absolutely cared about Bronte's wellbeing after that and he was not going to let his best friend go into the darkness alone.

Even as I'm writing this, I'm getting choked up. This was an incredibly emotional turn of events that had everyone in tears. It's always difficult to say goodbye to characters, especially when they've been a very real part of your mental space for years. The player history behind Bronte's character made his departure doubly difficult. I dearly miss the energy that both Michelle and Meagan brought to him and to the table. These are wonderful folks who are 1000% welcome at my table any time.

Thanks to Rodney, Bronte's departure was meaningful, powerful, and memorable. More importantly, Bronte is not gone. He is moving on. He is out there living his life, continuing his story with Oma (and some new friends) at his side. What more can anyone ask for?

Bronte. Oma. Dear friends. You have been and always will be our friends. 

Oops

I cannot believe neither I nor my players took a picture of the map when I placed the sludge dragon. I feel this is a personal failing for which I shall flagellate myself viciously in penance. I suppose this just means that we were all so engrossed in the story that we were not in a meta-state-of-mind to photograph it. That's the story I'm telling myself at least. :-)

Diseased Dryad

• Sil-T'soo
• Sil-ob'at
• Sil-Ch'at
• Sil-!aryo
• Sil-Laɠee

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Follow me on one of these fine social media platforms:
Instagram: @hokumsean
Spotify: @hokumsean
Twitch: @hokumsean
Twitter: @hokumsean
Tumblr @hokumsean

Stop by my YouTube channel "Ovens and Dragons" and partake in the exciting world of learning how to cook.

Also, check out my DMsGuild offerings:

• Epic Gnomish Inventing
  Rules supplement for creating gadgets.
• Gnome Concept Packages 1
  Collection of gnome-related backgrounds, feats, magic items, and more.
• Great House Servants
  Collection of backgrounds centered on the servants of a great house.
• Mildew's Revenge
  A first-level adventure.
• Random Plot Generator
  A tool for creating adventure prompts for one-shots and story arcs.
• The WhatNot Shop’s Absurd Accoutrements
  A collection of unusual magical items.
• The WhatNot Shop's Bracing Beverages
  A collection of strange potions.
• The WhatNot Shop's Common Curiosities and Trivial Trinkets
  A collection of common magic items and trinkets.
• The WhatNot Shop's Dastardly Doodads and Orc Oddities
  A collection of orc-themed common magic items and trinkets.