Chapter 3: Ship people meet woods people

Krenmuth focused too much on finding rations and not enough on where he tossed them. "Sorry, Melianne," he says when he realizes where some food landed.

The cleric stays alert as the boars move around, keeping his warhammer and shield ready.

While some of the boars allow Melianne (and Aravel if he wants to :P) to pet them while they feed, Tharadin grunts with the big one. It sounds like arguing.
But as long as they feed on the rations that you generously provided they stay peaceful

Give this lot another half dozen rations and they'll leave us be. We can forage for food as we need to. I'll give two more. Tharadin says, digging two more rations out of his pack, setting them down by the big boar he'd been "conversing" with.

Annika rolls her eyes. "I strongly doubt that bribing local wildlife was what the camp quartermaster had in mind when issuing these rations. Perhaps on the way back we should have a boar hunt and the camp can have a feast." Nevertheless, she hands over two of her rations.

"Forage for food!? Forage!?" Aravel replied with an offended tone.
"Not all of us are accustomed to the taste of cave moss and tree bark!"

"Aravel, the wilderness is not known for its fine dining opportunities. I would think a learned soul such as yourself would be aware of that." Krenmuth contributes two more days of rations. "Be thankful that ship's gruel is not your only option. That's one thing I don't miss about sailing."

Aravel haughtily waved away the remark.
"I am well aware, thank you very much. Hence I am unwilling to part with my actual food to appease some swine. Perhaps you would care to explain this to the dwarf, hmm?"

With the boar's appetite satisfied they slowly trot away. One of the small boars rubs up against Melianne's leg before leaving and the big one licks Tharadin's hand.

You can hear their grunting slowly fade away as they disappear in the darkness.
Other than that your night is pretty unremarkable...

The next morning dawns. Small ice crystals have formed along the ropes of your tents and the grass is covered with rime. You can clearly feel that winter is coming.
You pack your things and proceed towards the location of the tribe.

At noon the ice has melted again and you approach the edge of the forest. Most of the trees seem to be firs, larches and spruces.
Just before you reach the edge of the forest you see a cove consisting of birch trees. Most of them are about 30 feet/10 m high but in the center of the cove is a huge birch. It seems to consist of four birches that grip into each other in a spiral form and reach a height of about 100 feet / 30 m.

Just as you approach the cove a wolf comes storming at you. Just as you get your hands at the grips of your weapons the wolf jumps, dissolves into a black mass and reforms into a robed man.
He is tall and clearly has elven features. Maybe he's a half-elf. He's wearing a dark green robe with a hood. A scimitar is dangling from a belt that is holding his robe together.
Without the slighest sign of distress or surprise and says I assume you come from your settlement at the river and are here to visit your companions? You can certainly do so but please respect the cove and its inhabitants. Violence will not be tolerated in a calm yet firm voice.

Melianne actually claps excitedly at the man's dramatic transformation, which causes her silks to crackle a bit - the ice crusting them breaking away. In hindsight, she really should've picked clothes more practical for a journey on the cusp of winter, but she wasn't expecting travelling; and for energetic dancing, there was no need to warm herself up with anything but her torches... In other words, she is cold, but the new acquiantance with shapeshifting nature is just the right kind of entertainment to distract her from it.

"My, hello, darling!" She waves at the man and squeezes between Krenmuth and Annika to step closer. "We are indeed here for a visit - but please, would you elaborate on the rules of this cove?" She bats her eyelashes at him. "We wouldn't want to accidentally commit a faux de pas! Perhaps you can even direct us to our friends?"

The rules are that you respect the cove, don't do any damage here especially to the trees and stay peaceful in your deeda as well as in your... the man replies but is suddenly interrupted from a stream of insults from inside the cove
I don' give a flyin' crap 'bout yar stupid tree. It trapped me and I can free myself if... Phan! Ya coward hand me the sword. Imma do it myself you slimey, spineless slug...

The half-elf looks back and you can see slight signs of dismay in his facial impression. ...words he completes the sentence
I think you can go see your friend. Maybe she will calm down at your sight

He turns around, beckons you to follow him and leads you into the cove, towards the tall, central tree.
The branches of the birches in the cove are weaved into each other and form a sort of roof above you, which is protective on one side but still has enough holes to let sunlight in. In the middle, where the big tree stands the roof rises up like a giant tent made out of branches.
I strange scene unfolds. A human woman in leather armor is held inside a wooden cage that appears to be formed out of branches directly growing out of the central tree. She's fuming and cursing and striding around in the cage.
An elven man sits in front of her and tries to calm her down by citing famous people who've been in similiar predicaments
Melianne and Annika will know them from the Jolly Wanderer, the boat that brought them here. It's Rada and Phann!

Five people in green robes are in the center. While two of them, an elven woman and a human man watch the scene in a bewildered manner the rest of them seem to be tending to their tasks, like weaving baskets and sorting berries.

Tharadin breathes a sigh of relief and slight exasperation at the barrage of language. Gods. It's a wonder you lot haven't just chucked her into the river. he mutters to the half-elf when they get into the cove. I can't apologize for that one, but you have the patience of a stone, not a bear. he finishes with a grin.

Melianne quickly approaches the cage, heedless of the folk gathered around it. "Phann, Rada, are you two alright?" She leans forward towards the branches, trying to examine her fellow castaways behind them. "And what exactly did you do to end up here, friends? I hope there were no spontaneous coups to replace a local emperor this time, were there?"

Aravel just suffers along. He deduces these locals to be some form of druidic sect, with the shape changing and woodworking and all. They hold little anthropological interest to him but he does consider his fellow elves to be of some interest; their longevity might give them insight into the local history that isn't diluted across countless generations such as among the short-lived races. As the situation with the prisoners seems well in hand he approaches the local elven onlookers to make some inquiries in his native tongue.

"Hail and well met, honored hosts and people of these lands. I am Aravel, son of Althuel, and I came looking for the ancient ruins of an elven palace I deduced must be somewhere in these lands. Would you happen to know of such a place?"

Tensions were high the last time Krenmuth saw Rada and Phann. I don't think seeing me will calm her down, he thinks. Instead, he stays by the half-elf and says to him, "The highest greetings, sir. My name is Krenmuth. I am a priest of Valkur and Wavewarden to the camp. I assure you our mission is peaceful."

"I can clearly see our wanderers are safe and well. Thank you for that."

Annika follows along with Melianne, wearing a "What have you gotten yourselves into this time?" scowl.

My name is Carric and you are amongst the druids of the Owl-Claw-Clan the half-elf that greeted you replies to Krenmuth's introduction
A wavewarden you say? So what happened to one of your ships must have really filled you with sorrow. It really is deplorable that some clans seem to see destructive tactics as their only option
As Tharadin gives his remarks he answers to him She definitely is.... a different guest than what we are used to of course... but the old tree chose to embrace her and it knows best. So we accommodate her as friendly as we can.

---

Rada and Phann turn to Melianne and Annika. Phann enthusiastically greets them.
Great that you are here! We sent back word that we are in a bit of trouble and it seems that Korsak sent someone already trained in negotiations! Glad to see you! The locals have been nice to us but it has been difficult to stay calm under these circumstances. Rada isn't used to be that... confined, I dare say?

Confined...? To t' nine hells with you! Confined! Rada yells and snorts I'm a friggin' prisoner he'e. Ya' know. At first they we're all friendly' dandy. Gave us this root brew, some kind of beer. Tasted good and so I drank a lot of it. And ya' know: What comes in must come out again. Wanted to take a leak behind this ol' tree here and suddenly it grabbed me! Made this cage!
I wanted to cut the branches BUT THIS IS THEIR FRIGGIN' HOLY TREE THAT I MUST NOT HURT AND SO I HAVE TO STAY HERE 'TIL IT LET'S ME GO!!!
The last words are screamed out by her and Phann gives her a pitiful look.
The druids were so nice to provide us with anything we need but we are not allowed to cut the branches he says in a low voice.

---

The druid that Aravel talked to turns to him. Even though she looks rather young Aravel can tell that she is at least 300 years old, dressed into the same robes as the other druids with streaks of grey in her long brown hair. A woven leather band keeps her hair out of her face.
She replies in elvish too
Well met! My name is Drusilia, offspring of the Aloro lineage. Elven ruins you say... My father always warned me to not venture near them. Tales of... let's say disconcerting tales.
What you seek is where you came from. You must know... so called civilized folks tend to see the value of the land in a way that tends to their civilized needs. So they often settle in the same place.
The people of your camp see value in the place they are in now and so have many people before. Many cycles of founding, prospering and ruin. But the last cycle was different. It... disturbed the land there. I didn't experience it and neither did my father. But the tales about it live on.
Beneath your camp are ruins and under those are more ruins. If it is elven ruins you seek, they will be there.

"This all begs the question of who we're here to negotiate with. The druids seem almost as bemused as you that the tree has you captive, so... are we to bargain with the tree?" Annika shakes her head. "Ridiculous. At least you're not in imminent danger, and the druids don't seem hostile, so there's a chance we can resolve all this peacefully and walk away as friends. But not," she glares at Rada, "if you keep kicking up a fuss. So while we figure this out, stay put and pipe down."

Drusilia's answer fascinated Aravel and he paid great attention to her for her words seemed honest and plausible. The short-lived races would use the foundations of his kind to build their ramshackle constructions on. But to go digging in these wet surroundings to find those submerged ruins would prove quite the undertaking.. Well, at least he knew where to begin.
"I see! I had looked at the local ruin there, but it was not made by any ancestor of ours. But to go look even deeper... well, needs must, I suppose."

But Drusilia's words struck another chord, the song of a great tragedy. That was also in the legends. A great calamity of some sort. It was fitting. What else might bring about an end to an elven city? A disaster that would make the land uninhabitable?
"One would not make a city in these wet lands. Am I correct in assuming they were not always so?"