Cabin at the Edge of the Woods
Kuhl somehow knew the odd little cabin under the big oak tree was vacant long before they got to the door. The thing was mostly a thick thatched roof, with eaves so low they practically hid the log walls. It looked like a giant mushroom with a conical shaped head and a few round windows. A couple of tilted up logs, lashed together at their peaks, provided a triangle frame to extend the thatching over the red painted door to form a sheltered porch with a gnome sized carved wood bench underneath. For all appearances the dwelling was a cozy little cabin in the countryside.
But something about the way it stood with lightless windows and a smokeless stone chimney - the shadow of the beginning of the Vanderwood looming in the background under the night sky - was ominous to the half-elf.
The three companions - Kuhl, Sky, and Surash, walked past the empty fenced animal pen and two wheeled cart, ducked under the eaves over the front porch and the tabaxi rapped on the sturdy round door with her knuckles. While they waited, the half-elf thought about how they would look to the occupant if he was at home - three unexpected night visitors crouched on his porch and crowding around his door. Not good, he decided. Terrifying even.
The late hour had been a point of discussion with Surash and Kuhl being in favor of taking a room at the inn attached to the meadery to wait to visit Kipper, the mushroom harvesting gnome who reported the scarecrow attack in the morning. Sky, of course, had not wanted to wait and voted to go then and there. Somehow, despite being outvoted, the tabaxi had gotten her way and, here they were, Sky insisting the half-elf's 'natural charm' and the little keg of mead they purchased as an anticipatory 'sorry for waking you gift' would be enough to smooth over any initial awkwardness.
"I have noticed your female companions are very free with the compliments on your 'natural charm' when they want you to do something you don't want to do," Dawnbringer said into his mind.
"I've noticed that as well," Kuhl thought back. Thinking of all the ways the sentient sword motivated him out of bed for early morning training sessions he added, "Free with the compliments to motivate me also applies to a certain weapon forged in the age of Netheril as well."
"Forget I mentioned anything," Dawnbringer telepathically sent.
"I don't think he is home," Surash said, after the tabaxi's third time knocking. "He is a mushroom hunter by trade. He could be in a foray in the forest. It is the harvesting season for several varieties."
"Maybe," Sky said doubtfully. "Anyone else smell something?"
Now that she mentioned it, there was the hint of something foul and spoiled in the air. Kuhl hadn't smelled it on approach, only now that he was near the door. The tabaxi reached out and tried the door handle.
"It's not locked," she said.
"Sky, what are you doing?" the half-elf asked.
"If he is home, he might not have heard our knocking," she said. "If he isn't we just have a little harmless look around."
"If he is home he might be waiting with a crossbow on the other side," the alchemist said. "Ready to put a bolt into any intruders."
"Well then," Sky said, tail lashing. "It is a good thing I am really good at dodging and Kuhl has healing magic."
Without waiting for further discussion, she pushed the door open. The stale, rotten stench hinted at before wafted over them as the door swung open. They covered their noses with their sleeves.
The cabin was one circular room with a fieldstone fireplace in the center. An unmade, small, sagging bed was on one side of the fireplace and chimney and a sturdy oak table under shelving full of cooking utensils was on the other. A deep impression of a little body was in the straw mattress among the rumpled blankets of the bed and the support frame on one side had cracked - the cause of the sagging. The source of the retch inducing smell was immediately apparent.
Two rotted goat carcasses lay on the table, more dried out husks than corpses having been dead for some time. But their smell was still strong and pervaded the room.
"Those must be the goats he claimed were killed by scarecrows before admitting to killing them himself," Surash said, talking about the gnome they'd come to see.
"What are they doing in here?" the half-elf asked.
"It looks like he brought them in to butcher them," the alchemist said. "Which makes sense. I think he used them to pull that cart out in the yard to deliver what he harvested from the forest. But after mistakenly killing them in a mushroom induced madness, why let their meat go to waste?"
"And yet, go to waste is what it did," Kuhl said, staring at the rotted remains of the animals.
"The effects of whatever mushroom he had eaten had worn off enough for him to be lucid when confessing to the Guard about killing the goats," Surash mused. "But then he left these carcasses here to rot midway into butchering them? A relapse from the mushroom into madness? Some effects can linger."
"I suppose that fits," the half-elf said.
Sky remained silent, golden eyes staring intently around the room. Then she ducked inside for a closer look. The dwelling had been constructed for a gnome and she had to move in a crouch as she made her way around - first to the bed, then to the bookshelf, to the shelves with cooking utensils, to some hemp bags on the wood floor, and then to the carcasses on the table - all the while still holding her sleeve to her nose. She perused each stop, flipping through books with her free hand, leafing through a stack of papers, peering into bags, and scrutinizing the goat remains.
"I am most familiar with deep gnomes," she finally said. "Are forest gnomes a lot stronger than their Underdark cousins and do they also have sharp claws?"
Kuhl and Surash exchanged a confused look.
"I don't think so," the half-elf answered after a moment. "Why?"
"Because these goats weren't just killed," the tabaxi said. "They were savaged. Look at the way the hides are ripped up."
She pointed as she talked.
"And not all of the goats were wasted," she said. "It looks like the innards and flesh was ripped out. Without the help of a knife."
She once again pointed, this time to the shelf where an array of knives, each set in a slitted hole, custom made to fit each of the blades. None appeared to be missing.
"The gnome wererats in Blingdenstone had sharp claws in their hybrid form and were very strong for their size," Dawnbringer said in Kuhl's mind.
That was true. The half-elf repeated her thought.
Sky's golden eyes widened, and she nodded.
"How could I forget about that?" she asked. "Of course. I knew there was a reason I chose you as a partner in the detective agency."
"Hey!" Kuhl's sentient weapon mentally admonished. "I told you that! And she asked Jhelnae then Aleina to partner with her first. You were her third choice."
Because of her reminder on that, the half-elf decided not to give his sword credit for the wererat insight.
"So, we're dealing with a gnome wererat?" Surash asked. "At the same time the others are going to the hideout of a gang of wererat halflings? That seems a strange coincidence."
"We don't know what we're dealing with," the tabaxi said, retreating out of the room. "But a were-creature is a working theory. But I think, judging by the injuries on these goat carcasses we can rule out swanmays."
Because of Aleina and Jhelnae's constant efforts to call their collective group the Sweet Sisterhood of Swanmays, Kuhl knew she referred to were-swans.
"Or were-ravens," the tabaxi said as they moved away from the cottage, all finally lowering their sleeves from their noses. "Or were-bunnies if there is such a thing."
"Some sort of were-creature with sharp, rending claws," the half-elf said, in the hopes of cutting off an exhaustive list of non-possibilities. "Got it."
"But then why tell the story of the scarecrows?" Surash asked. "And the bad mushroom?"
The alchemist answered his own question before anyone else.
"Initial infection of lycanthropy is often described as a feverish dream," he said. "He might have still hallucinated the scarecrows and believed a bad mushroom was to blame."
"It's a working theory," Sky said, shrugging. "But one that fits."
"Except one thing," Kuhl said, feeling his brow wrinkle in thought. "Why were his transformations so out of phase with the moon?"
As a paladin of Sehanine Moonbow, the waning and waxing of the moon played in his devotions and so he had a good recollection of her phases.
"Based on what we know," he continued. "Kipper's initial transformation would not have occurred at the full moon and if he abandoned his cottage during a second transformation, judging from the state of those carcasses, it would have occurred shortly after the first."
"Do transformations always occur only with the full moon?" the alchemist asked.
Kuhl actually didn't know. He was no expert in lycanthropy. He indicated this with a shrug.
"So, the lack of a full…" Surash began, but a held up hand by Sky cut him off.
The tabaxi cocked her head and held herself still. Her companions followed her lead, the half-elf not even breathing.
"I hear something," she finally said. "It sounded like someone chopping down a tree."
"Like a wood cutter?" Kuhl asked. "At this time of night? That makes no sense."
He listened but heard nothing. A look to the alchemist brought a shake of Surash's head. He heard nothing either. Which didn't mean Sky didn't, her hearing was better than theirs. The hairs on the nape of the half-elf's neck raised as he suddenly realized the lack of sound was itself strange. They were at the edge of a forest at night. Where were the chirps of insects, the hooting of owls, and other nocturnal animal sounds? Instead, except for the rustling of leaves in the slight breeze, all was preternaturally quiet. For some reason the nighttime creatures of the forest were silent.
"Maybe we should investigate what Sky hears," he said, pulling Dawnbringer free from her sheath.
"I am very glad you brought your shield to Phaulkonmere," his sentient sword said into his mind.
"So am I," he replied.
But he left said shield strapped on his back for now since he still carried the little cask of mead.
Following the tabaxi, they walked across the wild grassland until they entered the even greater darkness of the Vanderwood, starlight and moonlight not penetrating the tree canopy. Kuhl reached out a hand in an offer to guide Surash as they followed a narrow track through the forest, but the alchemist waved off assistance. He had very good night vision for a human and the half-elf wondered, not for the first time, if Surash had an unknown elven ancestor.
Within a few paces into the forest the half-elf heard Sky's mysterious sound - a sharp thwack, a pause, and then another in rhythmic timing.
"I hear it now, Sky," he whispered.
She paused their creeping progress through the trees to turn and look at him.
"What does it sound like to you?" she asked, voice low.
He listened intently for a moment before answering, heard the steady thwack pause… thwack…
"Like a woodcutter," he said.
Which again made no sense for this time of night.
"I still don't hear anything," Surash hissed.
"Well now I think I hear singing," the tabaxi said, tail lashing. "But I can't make out the words."
They moved forwards again, thrice more stopping to confer - when Surash heard the falling of the axe, when Kuhl heard the singing, and again when the alchemist could hear the singing.
Soon after, the half-elf could make out the words.
"Giant heart, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, giant heart doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo."
It wasn't so much singing as a mocking voice muttering to himself as he worked, the rhythmic thumps of a blade into a tree truck accompanying the nonsensical words. Suddenly the chopping stopped as well as the singing. The companions stopped as well, Kuhl sure they had been detected.
"Oh, will you just come out?" the assumed woodcutter said in a growling deep voice which, unlike their previous muttered singing, carried. "How many great oaks are you going to let me cut down? Are you going to keep letting woodland creatures sacrifice themselves until I finally find your tree? Their livers, gizzards, and innards are quite delicious, but I tire of all this."
The voice stopped talking, presumably waiting for an answer. None came, at least that the half-elf could hear. After a time, the rhythmic chopping started again along with the muttering, mocking singing.
"Giant heart, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, giant heart doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo."
Surash motioned them all to gather close together.
"Is it talking to the supposed Dryad of Vanderwood?" he whispered.
It sounded like it, but Kuhl didn't know, which he passed on with a shrug. It was all very strange.
"We need a closer look," Sky whispered. "Follow me."
She crept forward, and the tabaxi could creep. She moved through the trees along the narrow forest path without a sound. The half-elf did his best to imitate her, which took a lot of concentration and focus, especially carrying a little cask of mead. It still seemed as if he managed to find every dry snapping twig on the path. But he must have somewhat succeeded because the singing and chopping didn't stop and soon, he was in view of a clearing in the wood and a very bizarre scene.
The clearing held the ruins of an ancient elven building, roof and one wall long since collapsed. Too small to be a temple, likely a shrine. A woodland stream flowed nearby, forming a pool in the remains of a masonry basin, before forming into a stream again. It would be a tranquil little spot, if not for the several felled oak trees and the frozen corpse of a large antlered animal laying on its side.
Upon seeing the dead stag, the half-elf understood he'd been mistaken on the words of the song.
They were, "Giant hart, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, giant hart doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo."
As guessed, there was a woodcutter. A little forest gnome with green hair, a green beard, dressed in disheveled and dirty brown clothes, and wielding a hatchet.
"Something is not right about this," Dawnbringer warned in his mind.
Kuhl didn't need his sword to tell him that. It was well into Spring and a huge stag had apparently somehow suddenly frozen to death. A sheen of melting ice crystals blanketed its body and also froze the ground of the clearing around it in a wedge shape. And the deep voice coming out of the woodcutter was incongruous with his diminutive form and the blows of his small hatchet fell with resounding thunks that made the entire oak shudder and chunks of wood fly with every chop.
The gnome again stopped his efforts and his singing to call out once more.
"You win, alright," he said. "You've proven your point. Never again will I accept another contract on a dryad. Too much trouble when you don't know which is their bound tree in a whole damnable forest! So, you can rest assured I will never agree to hunt one of your sisters again. That is something, isn't it? But I have to finish what I started with you. Professional reputation and all. So be reasonable and protect your forest, the trees and the animals in it, by coming out and facing me yourself. Otherwise, I'm finding a way to burn the whole thing down. But I don't want to do that. Not really an elegant solution, is it? Could ruin my reputation almost as much as not killing you as contracted. Almost, but not quite. So come out. I promise it will be quick."
The gnome stopped and listened, then sighed when no answer was forthcoming. He had just lifted his hatchet again when a rustling sounded behind Kuhl and the others. The half-elf turned and saw three nightmarish figures emerge from behind tree trunks, their bodies made up of twisting branches covered in sackcloth. But it was their eyes, the fear inducing, glowing, baleful hatred in them, that made him raise Dawnbringer, but not ignite her, and step back from them as they advanced. His companions were similarly affected and, step by step, they were driven back.
"You're being herded," his sentient sword warned.
It was true, but they were now already in the clearing.
"Well," the deep voiced gnome said. "What have you three flushed out? Unfortunately none of them looks like a dryad. But I suppose we should kill them anyway. Can't have them blabbing around with what they've seen and drawing more unwanted interlopers."
"Kipper?" Kuhl asked, facing the gnome, but keeping an eye on the scarecrows as well.
The constructs of twisting branches and sackcloth had stopped their advance.
"Kipper?" the hatchet wielder asked, face scrunched up in confusion.
"We can help you," the half-elf said. "Whether all this is mushroom induced madness or some sort of feverish side effect of lycanthropy, or something else, we can find a remedy."
He made a gesture at the words 'all this' to encompass the clearing, the felled trees, the iced over dead stag, the scarecrows, all of it.
"Lycanthropy? Mushrooms?" the gnome asked, but his eyes lit with understanding at the second word. He looked at the scarecrows. "You see you stupid creatures. I give you too much leash, just once, and you go wild and murder some goats. Then I had to kill their owner, assume his guise to drive off inquiries, and yet still trouble is showing up. At least his innards were tasty. Nothing but trouble you three have been on this mission and worthless at catching a dryad."
"You're not Kipper," Kuhl said. "Not even a forest gnome."
"No I am not," the not forest gnome said.
The little figure started to grow, skin taking on a blue hue, beard disappearing, the hair on his head turning white, and growing long and scraggly. His brown clothes, unable to contain his monstrous form, ripped apart to fall off him, but he wore a pair of rough spun trousers underneath, belted with rope at the waist, that enlarged as he did and also a pair of scarlet, gold studded, vambraces on each forearm which also matched his growth. His hatchet increased in size and also transformed, becoming a straight, broad bladed, dark metal greatsword. Dark energy, like black lightning, wreathed the weapon as it took on its new form.
"And in the short time you have left on this plane," the blue skinned, hulking, ogrish creature said, looking down at them and grinning with a set of wickedly sharp teeth. "You're going to wish to all the Nine Hells you never went looking for one, little, pathetic, fungi grubbing missing gnome. Is that little cask under your arm full of alcohol? It should go very nicely with your liver."
Yes... I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, "How and why is this jackass posting again?" I really don't know. I had some work travel today, and my phone, and I just typed and typed whenever I had a chance and it all just flowed out. See...I didn't want to write the scene where Aleina, Jhelnae, and Fargas go to meet Dasher and end up at the Jade Dancer. I had to force that out. Same with the play with the urchins at Phaulkonmere.
But the scarecrows of Undercliff? I've been very excited about that. It was the carrot I used to slog through the rest.
Now if you are a DM running Dragonheist, DO NOT PUT IN THE CREATURE I JUST INSERTED INTO THE SCARECROW MISSION! Because you will have a TPK. Kuhl, Sky, and Surash, however, are higher level and they are going to have some help. The only DM that I know who would put a Challenge Rating 7 creature in a Level 1 to 5 adventure is married to LumendelMari (if you want insight on that joke, go read her Out of the Abyss story and her comments. He is BRUTAL! :) )