Aegon and the Troupe have discovered the Iron Throne’s Mine in the Cloakwood. Protected by a motte and bailey, they scout the surrounding area for and other ways of entry. However, it’s looking more likely they will have to assault the mine head on.

13 Eleasias 1368

We continue scouting the perimeter of the fortress, an old motte and bailey structure, its timber walls raised high atop a mound, surrounded by stagnant water. As we make our way around we are once again accosted by wolves. A few of them bare their teeth and rush at us as the others flee.

We only have to kill a couple before they give up on their attack. We decide to leave them be, knowing that Faldorn wouldn’t appreciate us killing an animal if we didn’t need to.

The noise has drawn the attention of a Blacktalon, who runs toward us, sword drawn as he calls out to us.

Aegon: I am Aegon and this is my party of fellow adventurers.

Lakadaar: What is your purpose here?

Aegon: We have heard rumours of wyverns hereabout.

Lakadaar: Wyverns?

Aegon: Yes. With fearsome fangs and enough poison in its tail to kill a horse ten times over.

Lakadaar: Uh, excuse me, I have some pressing business to attend to elsewhere.

He leaves us hurriedly, his face white with fear. He must know as well as we do how dangerous those lizards are, and we just convinced him they are in the area. Perhaps this could work to our advantage.

We encounter the wolf pack again, so we maintain our distance and let them pass by. They choose not to attack us this time.

As we watch them run back into the forest, Coran has a certain complaint about my leadership choices.

Aegon: Whatever do you mean? I credit my leaving Candlekeep with discovering numerous things. I’d almost go as far as calling my adventures a University of Life.

Coran: Phew. You know nothing if you continue to buy cheap wine.

Aegon: Coran, we can barely afford the necessities! I can’t waste money on Everquissit.

Coran: A pity. It would have come in handy a couple of times.

I have an idea. Why don’t you let me buy our wine? I can practically swear that I can get you the best prices with any merchant.

Aegon: Alright, but I’ll be the one to keep a hand on the strings of the purse.

Coran: Or, surely, on the strings, very good….

He grins knowingly. I roll my eyes and turn away, leading the others back around the motte and bailey. Wine. Wine is the least of our damn worries right now.

As if to prove the point, we are rushed by two aggressive bears. Eldoth and Coran put one down with their arrows.

I hold back the second bear so that Eldoth and Coran can deal with it the way they know best. As the second bear lets out its final breath, a third bear starts bounding toward us.

This bear is tougher, and tears into my flesh with its claws. Helga summons the power of Haela to heal my wounds. The bear, now stuck with bullets and arrows, turns and tries to flee.

A couple more missiles from myself and White end its life for good.

Another wave of aggressive bears. So perhaps it wasn’t the hamadryad after all. Or perhaps her influence lingers, poisoning the woods even in death. It isn’t long before we discover someone else that may be influencing these animals to attack. Another druid stands beside yet another bear, which lets out a roar as soon as it sees us.

The druid demands to know why we are here in the Cloakwood.

Aegon: Such as us? What are you talking about?

The Arch Druid: Don’t try to lie to me, only those of the Iron Throne traverse these woods now.

As if on command, his bear companion charges us alongside the archdruid. The bear falls before it can hurt us, while the archdruid makes unnatural movements with his hands, calling upon the power of Nature. I try to call out to him again, but he doesn’t want to talk. There isn’t going to be any reasoning with him – we must fight.

Coran manages to hit him hard enough to interrupt his spell. We must press our advantage while we have it.

The archdruid manages to finish a spell, attempting to Hold me in place. Thankfully I am able to resist its effects. Yet another bear breaks out of the undergrowth and joins the archdruid’s side in combat.

I can’t defend against the bear, my buckler is too small to deflect its blows. Faldorn has another idea in mind, asking Nature to Regenerate my wounds over time. My wounds start to close up, but not as fast as the bear is opening new ones.

The archdruid once again tries to hold me in place and fails. Faldorn attempts to confuse the archdruid with some Rigid Thinking.

The regeneration effect isn’t proving fast enough. It’s keeping me alive, but barely. I try to ignore the bear and rush the archdruid before he can let another spell loose. The bear is hanging onto its own life by a thread, the others should be able to kill it.

Coran finally delivers a killing blow and the bear’s legs collapse beneath its own weight. The archdruid keeps trying to Hold me in place as we press on with our attack.

Without help from his bears, the archdruid is pushed back by arrows, as I follow with strikes from my Rift Hammer. He can’t rely on his magic now.

As he stumbles back, bloody and wounded, I see the perfect opportunity to deliver a killing blow. Unfortunately he has one final burst of strength, and manages to slash across my stomach with his scimitar. I fall back, clutching the hole, praying to Corellon to spare me.

As I keel over two arrows fly over my head, striking the archdruid in the chest. He drops to his knees, then falls to his side.

I drop my hammer and catch my breath as I watch my wounds slowly healing. The pain is agonising, but it is getting less painful as time passes. Faldorn has shown me the power of Nature, and I should respect it. I ask the others to wait a while so I can heal some more.

While I rest, Faldorn goes through the archdruid’s equipment. Around his neck he wears a Heart of the Woods, a similar amulet to Faldorn’s own.

His armour is Bhaelros’ Bane, enchanted so that the wearer can resist magical lightning used by the god’s followers.

He wears a crown that we cannot appraise. It is likely enchanted and symbolises the former archdruid’s status.

Among his other status symbols is a ring with a red jewel embedded in it. Again, none of us recognise this ring.

His sword is the sword of the archdruid Yarrow, likely having been passed down the line of archdruids over the years.

In his potion belt he holds a Potion of Mirrored Eyes…

2 Potions of Regeneration…

2 Potions of Extra Healing…

…and a Potion of Toughness.

A small pouch contains 12 gold, a Tchazar Gem…

…and a Garnet Gem.

He also has a Scroll of Control Undead tucked into a small compartment on his belt. This could turn the tide next time we find another necromancer to kill.

After watching his corpse being stripped of all valuables, I’m starting to feel somewhat close to full health. I pull myself up so we can continue scoping out the motte and bailey.

We return to the entrance and are approached by a dryad with a crazed look in her eyes.

Aegon: What do you mean by that?

Crazy Dryad: Leave my wood!

Aegon: You’re not a very sociable being are you?

Crazy Dryad: Do as I bid!

Aegon: I’m afraid I cannot do that. We have to get to the mines and…

Crazy Dryad: Feel Nature’s fury as she lashes out at thee!

She pulls out her dagger and lunges at me. I don’t know which arrow or bullet delivered the killing blow. It was over before it even started.

Nature is especially angry here, angry at the mine. She is lashing out, even at those who are trying to destroy the mine for her. Nature lashes out blindly, wounding friend and foe alike. We came to help her, and now we’re covered in the blood of her children. Perhaps we’ve misunderstood her wrath, or maybe this is what justice looks like when you’re on the wrong side of it.

Aside from her dagger, the dryad carried 2 Antidotes and 2 Potions of Healing. We take them and prepare for our assault on the mine. While we do so Faldorn discusses the nature of beauty with Coran.

Coran: Every woman is beautiful, of course. One learns with time to see a particular smile, a shape of the earlobe, the wave of hair above the forehead – and enjoy the privilege of seeing it. It is a rare thing, however, when the whole of the woman is perfectly beautiful.

Faldorn: All things of nature are perfect. But civilisation spoils it… I would be surprised if you could find an unblighted beautiful woman in a city!

Coran: The answer is simple. Yes, I have seen such a woman.

Ellesime, the elven Queen of Suldanessellar. There is no woman fairer than Her Grace. Her hair shines like gold, her face is fair as moonlight, her gown is the colour of peacock feathers…

Faldorn: Coran, you are drooling.

Was Faldorn trying to flirt with Coran? The ways of courtship must be different for druids who spend all their time in the woods. It doesn’t matter. I snap my fingers at Coran to take him out of his daydream. It’s time to assault the Iron Throne’s fortress.

There’s no hidden path, no secret entrance. Only the main gate remains. We march in over the main bridge, and are of course met by Blacktalon guards.

They aren’t well armed and we take them down quickly.

We step over their corpses and continue across the bridge. The further into the castle we get, the more the air feels charged. Not just with magic, but with something deeper. Inevitability, perhaps.

Inside we find a large courtyard with several well armed warriors standing around. Bowstrings become taut and the sounds of the Weave being summoned fill the air as their leader addresses us.So many animals, druids

Helga: Straight to the point? I be game for this.

Aegon: You want to know what I always say? “Always kill the mouthy one”, that’s what I always say.

Drasus: HAW! A good saying! I will use your head for a puppet and make it say it over and over while we drink large amounts of mead! Life is pretty good, you know?

As we draw our weapons images start to fill my mind. I can see reinforcements coming. I can see powerful mages making our own party turning against each other. I see fireballs and scorchers trying to burn them to ash. And I can see them killing us. I see them killing us over and over again.

We may have bitten off more than we can chew. The visions aren’t showing me a way out.

We’re going to die here.

Permanently.