Sundays in Stonehell 04/04/21 Easter Special

These pages are written to eternalise the great adventure of Graden Greenlung, Fryedah Wayelze, Scuttleweed the Torchbearer and Percian Maldicott III. Dictated by Mr Greenlung, who is an uneducated boor out of the habit of writing.

We were employed by the powerful mage known as Hazzervrim the Iridescent to retrieve the rare and valuable eggs of the fearsome owlbear, for the princely sum of 1,000GP per egg from a mysterious glade in the Dolmenwood where the ancient oak stands. We were quick to agree on these generous terms and headed off forthwith. Our one instruction was to go right and then head straight on until we passed the Hall of Guardians. I have long coveted the hide of the owlbear, but as you will learn, this was not to be among our prizes.

With the help of the trusty Scuttleweed, we found our destination without issue. Young Percian led the way down the hole that gaped between the roots of the great tree. Our going was fair at first, following the fresh prints in the hummus down the way. I went for a peek down the passage on the other side and was greeted by a strange, flickering apparition who spoke of Bozurah the Imperishable. I decided there was no danger to ambush us from that way, so we pressed forth down the right path.

Our path was blocked by a thicket of roots and vines, so I took to chopping it away with Henrietta, my wood axe, but the things came to life and started squirming away. I was inclined to chop the things back, but our friend Percian decided that he was willing to head through the barrier without such a measure. The only cost to this decision was a full waterskin, which was taken from his bag and sucked into the wall by the tendrils of wood.

We encountered these giggling plants once more in a chamber filled with mossy faces who enjoyed our toll of an old mint and a copper coin. The spirit of the great oak seems to animate the caves, and it has a mischievous and greedy character.

We forged on until we found ourselves in the Hall of Guardians. The afforementioned seem to be blackened skeletal warriors entombed within great pillars that watch over the caves. We also met a friendly young gnome called Krobb, who invited us into his home of Stumpville to meet his clan. If you plan to head to these caves, bring a basket of fruits and nuts as tribute to its natives. Whatever you do, don't give them meat, they are strict herbivores.

We came to three doors embedded into the stone, one bore the face of a bull, the next that of a jester and that of a lion. The jester door hid the site of some kind of diabolical ritual, but the lion door guarded our coveted prize.

It all happened at once from there. We approached the brooding owlbear nest as the footfall of a ghoul approached from behind. I hid in a darkened chamber to one side while old Scuttleweed fled back into the Hall of Guardians, right into the drooling maw of the ghoul. Fryedah cast her spear into the breat of the beast while I gathered its eggs. Percian stood stalwart in the face of the ghoul, beseeching Saint Sedge to cast his cleansing light upon it. Twice did he call to his patron, but was twice abandoned.

Fryedah duelled the owlbear with admirable ferocity, plunging the spear deeper into the heart of the owlbear. I poured a flask of oil upon its hide and set it alight, causing it to writhe in desperation. Percian's undead foe advanced upon him until he was sucking his soul through his ear.

His fate was sealed by the time Fryedah and I were ready to escape with our prize. He stood as brave as any beast I have seen before, and I have a newfound respect for the people of faith who wish to civilise my wild woodland home.

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