“I guess you found their dinner”, Dargothoth says, his interest peaked by the commotion. Five blank stares of dead eyes greet them as they all gaze upon the stack of the murdered smallfolk.
(Constitution save 15)
The stomach-turning stench greets Mero and Lyssa with a greedy embrace. The sorcerer remains unaffected, while Lyssa can just stop herself from vomiting, swallowing down the nauseating feeling of regurgitation.
“The gem is in there?’ A sadistic grin appears on the priest’s scaled face. “Lyssa, why don’t you grab it?” Turning away from the alarming sight she pushes Dargothoth somewhat playfully, making clear she is not going to do it.
“Be our guest”, she mumbles, still covering her mouth and nose as she moves over a couple of yards towards to the creek.
“I don’t mind taking it”, speaks Merodius, no sign of tension audible in his voice. Everything of his artificial demeanor shows total calmness, as if nothing within his being is affected by the grim scene displayed in the giant leather pouch.
“If you have to look for it”, Bruq says, “you would have to crawl in there, literally crawl in there. You could fit half a dozen times in that sack yourself. No offense.”
Mero shakes his head and stretches his arm forward with his hand hanging as it is paralyzed. The eyes of his mask close and spread wide open again, creating the shape of a claw. The air in front of him seems to ripple as a small pale spectral hand appears.
“The gem’s voice will guide my hand and I don’t have to crawl between those filthy creatures.” The dragonborn looks at the puppet, meeting a cold stare in return. “What?" The puppet sounds cold. "It's sad, yes, but I don’t like halflings.”
He makes slow, ghastly movements with all his fingers individually, pushing forward the incorporeal hand into the bag.
“Almost there”, the girl’s voice echoes in his head, “just a bit more to the left!” He blindly follows the advice and closes his hand when the voice tells him to. “You got me! Now pull me out of the bag!”
When the phantasmal hand comes out, it holds a polished, light green, see-through crystal. As the rays of the sun shine on the gemstone, the light fractures on its surface. It looks smooth on first sight, but is actually constructed of many planes, creating almost unnoticeable edges across the globe.
“Well, that’s one out of five”, Oslando says. He sighs, exhausted. “And it only almost cost us our lives.”
The magical hand dissipates and the crystal easily lands on the sorcerer’s glove.
“I feel pretty okay”, the sorcerer responds, completely unharmed by this violent encounter.
“Well, of course”, the half-elf laughs, “you’re welcome to join the frontline. I can even lend you one of my swords.”
A cheeky smile appears on Mero’s mask. “Only when you start throwing fire bolts.”
(Perception 17) (Nature 20)
As they walk over the wooden bridge, their way of entering this room shows itself again. The glass ripples as the Enochian gem gets closer. When they look back, they see Bruq has moved over to a small tree, studying some bright green, thin branches with white berries.
“What… are you doing, goatman?” Dargothoth takes a few steps with a lazy pace.
“This is mistletoe”, he says, breaking off one of the twigs. "I can use these to create different berries to help us revitalize. It’s an old ranger trick.”
He quickly grabs all these plants, throws them in his bag and strolls their way.
“Look”. He closes a piece of mistletoe between his palms and starts rubbing them against each other in a circular motion. When he reveals what happened, they see ten deep blue and purple berries.
“They’re called goodberries. They provide nourishment for a whole day of hunting, it stimulates the healing of wounds and they taste really sweet. It’s been a while since I had one, so I’m going to first.” He puts one in his mouth, presses it against his palate and makes his eyes cross as he tastes the sugary goodness.
He hands them all a berry. “You can have some more”, Bruq says to Oslando, giving him three instead of one. “You kind of look like you need it.”
“Are they really that good?”, the half-elf asks curiously. The satyr nods. “Try one”, he says and Oslando pops one in his mouth. “Just make sure the berry is complete blue or purple. There can’t be any white spots left on it. The berries of mistletoe are poisonous and I don’t want you to die because of me… Or by any other means. Just don’t die, okay?”
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