More weirdness, my new friend Mindartis just smiles when I say what a totally corrupted place the feywild is. For example last evening we faced the statues again and the wizard gives the old hag statue a gold piece. The statue comes to life and throws the gold piece before trying to skewer us all with sharp pointy fingernails. Eventually we beat the statue to rubble and lo, there’s another one in this ones place, so there are still three to face.
We try several more times, but each time the offering is rejected. After resting until dusk to heal up and recover, we have time reflect and we realize other objects are not rejected the same way the gold piece was — there is no throwing, they just pass through the hand.
So the wizard thinks the statue is just being greedy! Before the mute avenger can voice an opinion the wizard has given the hag a platinum piece. The statues retreat, leaving a hole in the wall through which we can see paths and plants.
Then, to reiterate my earlier disparagement of the feywild, we’re looking for this so-called garden the Sillayas guy wants us to cleanse when a fucking tent wraps itself around my head. The “abandoned” campsite has come to life to beat me to death. Burning faggots and a broken teapot are trying their level best to level me. Meanwhile a will-o-wisp is harrying the archer, the avenger climbs into the bushes to take a nap, and the warlord wants to do some recreational climbing. Oh, he’s climbing that damn obelisk that is shooting everyone with sleep rays, which is why the avenger is asleep.
After all that is settled by unrestrained force, a very high catwalk presents itself, with a stair to reach it – in the real world you know that stair would be hidden, or guarded, or both, but not in the feywild. Here apparently you can just climb up to your doom any-ole-time.
At the top are some cairns, finally some semblance of the graveyard we were led to believe needed cleansing. There are some large buildings here and there as well, but the doors in these buildings are strange, the inside of the building looks empty even when the archer walks into it — I poke my head in to figure out what’s going on and whoops, there’s now noone behind me (but the archer is doing just fine in a room that is apparently bleeding from the walls). The others stumble in in a few seconds, but the disorentation is wicked, so it’s a minute or more before we can move.
We can go back through the door, so we do, and we climb over the building to see what’s on the other side. More building of course. And a stone platform hidden in the sand that the wizard says is a teleportation circle, but they don’t know how to use it yet, so we leave it be.
Around the corner is the first door that isn’t going into some freaky room on another plane… no, it goes to a freaky room on this plane allright. One with over a dozen tapestries, including one with a picture of an exploding door lock (ok, so now the poem makes sense — this one could be titled “use the key, dumbass”).
In an adjacent room (behind a tapestry, because, why not), there’s a torch in the floor and freaky 1-12 numbers on the wall (twice, in contrasting colors). So the 1-12,1-12 are the hours of the clock, the wizard says, and if you stand between the torch and the wall you find your shadow only falls directly on the numbers…
Like I said… freaky…