Spear of seasons

After finally leaving the fungal hellscape that tested us to the deepest reserves of our resolve and endurance, we reached a part of the forest that perplexed us in an entirely different matter; for it was almost mundane. We grew used to the queer and unusual nature of the forest and then we stumbled into a part that was almost indistinguishable from the forests of our homeland. After a long time we were even warmed by the comfortable caress of sunlight, the absence of which caused our hearts to grow weary. We were surrounded by familiarity in the form of oaks, pines, spruces, firs, beeches, birches, alders. It gave us a weird sense of security, that unnerved us even more, because it was so out of place and because something still felt wrong. The wrongness came to our minds not long after, Our expedition started in the middle of the Fall and this whole place had the visage of early spring. Due to our surprise, it took us a while before we realized the smell of smoke coming from one part of the forest. However this type of smoke didn’t mean uncontrolled raging fire, for better or worse we were dealing with intelligent creatures in the vicinity. We sent some prepared scouts ahead to find the source of the smoke and they came back bearing news none of us dared to hope for. It wasn’t sylvans, it wasn’t hejkals either, apparently not far from us stood a wooden monastery in some sort of a druidic grove. The monastery was surrounded by vast gardens of Hops, various sorts of grain and beehives. Its inhabitants were of various races: Humans, dwarves, all types of elves, gnomes and others, and they were garbed in plain brown robes and various druidic ornaments and amulets. Their behaviour seemed peaceful and civilised and the scouts approached them and upon hearing our woes, they offered us hospitality. I still sense some trickery at hand, but we are too low on supplies and have too many sick and wounded members in need of healing to decline this proposal. However distrustful I was, I was also equally curious about this small remote monastery and decided to spend my time searching the vicinity and observing and talking to the “monks”. From what I have gathered they are hermits, wanderers, farmers, druids, and others united by their belief in an obscure forest deity called Gambis and they spend most of their days tending to the nature and brewing all kinds of ales, stouts, meads and other beverages of this kind . Many things still elude me, mainly the nature of the deity, its connection to this forest and the ability to coexist with its horrors. Yet there was one important piece of information that was supposed to elude my ears. This deity of theirs has two magical artefacts that are in possession of this monastery: a sceptre of sorts and a spear. The spear is in the hands of the Hierophant of the Monastery and the sceptre is in the Hands of The Abbott, leading me to believe that the hierarchy here is divided into two separate groups, one more druidic in nature while the other is more monk or priest-like. Supposedly the spear can change the whole passage of seasons and is imbued with powerful Pre-Arcaneum magic. There is surely more to this place than meets the eye and these monks are less defenceless than we thought.

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