Chapter Twenty: Dearly Departed.

26th Mirtul, Year of Three Ships Sailing (1492 D.R.), early evening.

Speaking in hurried whispers, Eliana and Vaikner describe the scene they encountered on the top floor of the tower.

“It was horror after horror tonight.” Eliana mutters. “I couldn’t shake the thought that it seemed connected. I figured there had to be someone – something – behind it all.”

Her mind as sharp as one of her arrows, Eliana guessed at the existence of a single malignant will controlling all of the monstrosities around us. Seeking safety and answers, she made for the top of the mill house. She skipped adroitly around the largest of the mold monsters: the Overgourd that, thankfully, Sister and I met only in its decaying state. 

“The top level of the tower was pretty much empty. Of vines and plant monsters, at least.” Eliana continues. “There was only a ring of blue mushrooms on the floor. They were glowing. Planted in a circle around a small cornhusk doll. It…it tried to talk to me. I shot it. That made everything else stop. But it kept talking. You heard it.”

Sister and I nod in solemn unison. Vaikner shudders, looking around nervously. I feel frost shimmer coldly through my air as I recall the little Halfling girl, Poppy. Clutching a small handmade doll to her chest. Quietly watching as we ate the feast of mushrooms that she had gathered…

None of us speaks as we descend to the lowest level of the building. Sister quickly dismantles the shaky barricade remaining in front of the door to the mill house. I help her heave the damaged wood aside and we peer out cautiously. There, fallen just in front of the ruined door, are the crumpled forms of two Walking Scarecrows. Jaw tight, I reach for a moldy sleeve. Coughing at the clouds of acrid dust that puff out as I take a hold of its arm, I pick up the cloth-wrapped wooden skeleton, tossing it through the doorway and back into the tower. I reach for the second creature, then hesitate. It is larger and fills out its garments in a heavily lumpy way.

“That one is different.” Eliana whispers, echoing the growing dread we all now feel.

Carefully turning over the larger form we see that it is not merely a suit of mildewed clothing. It is an actual Human man. Dead, rotting, and chained to a wooden frame in ghastly parody of a scarecrow.

Before his brutal death, this was a young man. Fair skinned with short blonde hair. It is difficult to discern more than this – bruises and swelling distort his features. Indeed, his entire form appears…wrong. His body is sunken in on itself. It may be that he died some time ago but I suspect that it is the fungal blooms sprouting from his skin that have sapped his corpse. Fuzzy growth creeps over his eyes. 

“We…we need to put him in there too.” Eliana says thickly.

“Yes. And then I will burn it all.” Vaikner turns away from the murdered young man.

I nod. I am as shocked by our discovery as I am distraught by the necessity of disposing of a once-living Being in this unceremonious way. But I see no safer way to stop the creeping rot. Gently, forcing my clamor of thoughts into the soothing murmur of prayer to my Lady, Sister and I place the young Human’s remains in the mill house. Then moving back amongst the wilting wheat, we watch as Vaikner starts a fire. The tower flickers with cleansing flames.

The heat and smoke clear the damp from the air. But, even as sparks dance before my numbed gaze, the doll’s last words weave their insidious way through my thoughts. Eliana and Vaikner are clearly preoccupied with the same unnerving memories.

“It was an itching – almost like a squirming sensation within my eyes.” Vaikner says, torn between dismay and fascination. “That little doll creature must have seeded the air with spores. Its last vengeful act before succumbing to your arrow, Elie.”

“Yeah, I think we managed to wiped that dust away. But that’s not enough. Remember: we ate those fucking mushrooms!” She replies.

“Yes, our entire company ate the mushrooms that Poppy gathered. I do not fully understand all of this. But it is clear at least that the little Halfling girl – that all of her family perhaps – is connected in some way to this corruption.” I sum up grimly.

Eliana’s only answer is an irritated sigh. Firelight moves over her lean face as she scatters crushed yew leaves into the smoke around us. Her muttered spell adds an herbal fragrance to the air. While distressed by the events of the evening, I feel physically well. And I know that my Goddess’ gifts protect me from many ailments. I am not surprised when the leaf fragments whirl past me without slowing. I am happy to see that Sister is also sound and well. But…but the yew crumbs collect around Pip, Vaikner, and Eliana! They swirl and then settle over their midriffs. 

I talked to Eliana about this after her last use of this spell. In the City of the Dead, with Amber.  I know that her flurry of pungent yew can only detect that a malady is present. It cannot not identify the cause of the blight. Still, with a shared groan, we all recognize the delightful supper that we shared with the Hin is the likely source of the current contagion.

Pip is still the size of a large dog. Remembering his ferocity during our battle with the Walking Scarecrows, I approach with him with respectful caution.

“I am going to try to help you. Please do not bite me.” I whisper.

“I won’t bite you!” He squeaks back.

Startled and embarrassed, fearing that I have offended a valiant comrade-in-arms, I frown and try to regain focus. I reach for the soft grey fur along his back. My distress grow. As I concentrate on the musty core of the mushroom malady, pushing back against feverishly blooming corruption, I feel weariness sapping me. My head spins.

“I fear that I cannot help you. I have used too much of my Lady’s gift this evening. I need rest.” I sag backwards, crestfallen. 

Pip snuffles briefly at me, whiskery nose tickling my face. Then, shrinking back to regulation mouse-size, he scampers back to Eliana.

“Thanks for trying, Elodie. It’s alright. For now, he’ll preserve his strength better in non-magical form.  We’ll figure something out.” She tucks her little friend gently into her shirt.

Sister meanwhile, approaches Vaikner. She unleashes her mice. He stiffens as they swarm over him. And gives a horrified little gasp as his skin starts to exude a greasy residue. It smells strongly of mushrooms. And rot. The mice start to lick at the oily substance. Many, many tiny pink tongues flick busily over the Drow’s skin. The mice show no signs of tiring. Only when he has been fully cleaned, do they return to Sister. 

“I feel quite well now. Thank you.” Vaikner shudders slightly.

A soggy rustling sounds nearby. Carefully parting the wilting wheat, we find the last of the mold monsters. It is the bulky automaton that was the first to attack us. The one that wielded its scythe with such grim efficiency against me. My hair whips and tangles in consternation.

“It’s a harvest golem” Eliana says quietly, looking at our frowning faces. “A type of machine used to help with farm chores? It’s not meant to be a weapon. I’ve never seen one turn aggressive before.”

Indeed, now that the corn husk doll’s pernicious influence has been dispelled, I can see that the golem has resumed its mundane field-work. We have damaged it but it is still functional. With a quiet grinding noise, it passes its scythe through the floppily decaying sheaves of grain.

Vaikner examines the creature with interest, keeping a cautious distance from heavily swinging limbs.

“I can see withered vines tangled all throughout the inner workings of this automaton!” He announces excitedly. “Like strings. Allowing this golem to be directed by its tiny puppet master!”

I turn away with a grimace. Even when released from the doll’s corrupting control, the huge creature and its jerking motions seem unsafe.

A rider passes the gap in the fieldstone wall and approaches us. Eliana and I walk up to greet Beltin and Gallop. The burning mill is like a beacon of distress in the misty night. I am certain that Beltin is eager to discover what has happened. 

“The contagion was coming from the mill house,” Eliana hurriedly explains. “We destroyed the source and two of the animated scarecrows. Let us return to the Meadery so we can talk more with Blossom.”

“What? What contagion? What do you mean? Why is the mill house burning?” Beltin vibrates with anxiety as he fires off question after stunned question. 

“We should go. We can talk over all of this when we are safely indoors.” Eliana repeats deliberately.

The Halfling scowls, confused.

“There is still the harvest golem.” I interject. “It would be prudent to destroy that too. Beltin, this is your family’s field. Do you know how to soothe the creature so that we may approach it safely? So that we may disassemble it?”

“The golem belongs to the Sweetwater family, we cannot destroy it!” Beltin objects.

I am now scowling too.

“It is corrupted. It nearly killed us. And I cannot be certain that it will not do more damage. It must be destroyed!” I grit my teeth; begrudging the need to explain the obvious to the beleaguered Beltin.

“The Sweetwaters would be angry. We cannot just destroy someone else’s property. That would be no better than stealing! They bought it from us and paid for it – it belongs to them, fair and square!” Beltin blurts in distress.

“Wait, the harvest golem once belonged to you?” Eliana interrupts. “Do you know its words? The control words to shut it down?”

“Well, yes. I do.” He admits, deflating.

Fussing and flustered, Beltin at last allows himself to be persuaded. He agrees to shut off the harvest golem. Leaving it undamaged but not active. I watch the hulking machine balefully for some little time, not entirely convinced that it cannot still somehow cause harm. Reluctantly turning my back on the silenced golem, I join my companions as they return to the road. Leaving the reeking field and the dying flames licking at the mill house behind.

Back at the Meadery, we find Blossom waiting for us. 

“You’re back. Finally!” She greets us with a glare that is equal parts impatience and suspicion.

Beltin steps towards her and they exchange a few quiet words. Blossom turns an angry face to us.

“I hope that you had good reason to burn down my mill house!”

Vaikner bites his lip. I turn from the doorway and look out into the darkness, aloof but for the tense snapping of my curls. I sniff the air for the slightest waft of fungal rot. Eliana glances at us both and then, sighing quietly, turns to the Halflings.

Steadily, she relates what we encountered in the Snobeedles’ field this evening. Blossom grows grimly calm as she listens.

“Hmm…perhaps, upon further reflection, it is a relief to have that decrepit building gone. It was a continual reminder…” Her voice trails off.

An awkward pause follows, and then Eliana continues to speak. She is cautious, not yet divulging all that we saw this night. But she reveals enough to make it clear that Poppy is somehow involved in these unwholesome events.

“We fear…we are concerned that your little girl may not be safe. We need to ensure that there is nothing here that endangers her.” Eliana says. 

For the first time, I see fear on Blossom’s face. 

“What are you suggesting? What do you want from my Poppy?” She whispers.

“I would like your permission to check Poppy and all the members of your household for signs of infection. We need to check how far the influence of…whatever this corruption is…has spread. And you have all been eating the mushrooms.” Eliana responds gently.

Face set, every line of her body tight with reluctance and dread, Blossom leads us down a hallway. Her home is softly lit for a restful night and it is very quiet. We wake Cathilda first.

“Shh, shhh, it is alright.” Blossom soothes the startled woman with reassurances that she can return to her bed very soon; that there is just one task the family needs her help with.

With the entire adult household now gathered in front of a closed door at the end of the hallway, Blossom nods her terse permission for Eliana to proceed.

Pushing the door partway open, we look in on Poppy’s sleeping form. Snuggled comfortably into warm blankets, the child’s glossy curls frame her face. Her smooth cheeks are flushed rosily. The sweet picture is ruined by the familiar shape of a corn husk doll. Poppy is clutching it to her chest, her steady breath ruffling its leafy fronds.

Whispering to her Mielikki, Eliana casts the yew leaves once again. My admiration for Sister grows when I note that the fragrant cloud no longer swirls towards Vaikner.  Eliana is still marked; the spell-sign once more lingering around her midriff. And, distressingly, all of the household –  Blossom, Beltin, Poppy, and Cathilda – are affected by the mysterious malady. The leaves cluster and shift all around their bodies; a more diffuse distribution than with Eliana.

Turning away from the gasps and mutterings in the hallway, I focus on the child again. I beg my Lady’s aid and allow Her seeking breath to exhale through me. As it sweeps through the room, my hair wilts with relief. No corruption touches Poppy. All that is wrong in this place is entirely concentrated in the little doll. The stale reek of burnt air wafts towards me.

“There is no evil in little Poppy.” I lean over to Eliana, whispering just to her. “But there is a strong fiendish presence in that room. It lives in the doll. Only in the doll.”

Eliana nods.

“We’ve seen what we need to for now. And there is more yet that I have to tell you. Can we go back to the living room and talk?” She asks politely.

Blossom leads us back to the lovely chamber where we first met the family. Only a few hours have passed since that meeting. Nightmarish time stretches out strangely, I muse.

Eliana resumes her tale. There is a gasp of horrified recognition from Beltin when she describes the murdered young man that the Corruption used as a Scarecrow. 

“Lester Sweetwater! It sounds like Lester!” Beltin stammers anxiously. 

“This is not good.” Blossom says heavily. “Setting aside the loss of such a fine young man, the fact that he was found on Snobeedle land, by guests of our family…

“Relations with the Sweetwater Clan have not been smooth. This is bound to cause trouble.”

“Perhaps..perhaps we need not tell anyone about this.” Beltin interjects uncertainly. “After all, his body has been burned…”

Stunned and furious, I turn to the young Halfling in outrage. But he has barely spoken these unworthy words when Blossom’s icy fury crashes down like an avalanche. I subside as Blossoms freezes Beltin into gulping, hurt silence.

“Do not suggest such a thing!” She hisses. “How dare you? Dashiel would never even consider acting in such a weak manner!”

Beltin slumps down in his seat. He looks more crushed than when he first saw the mill house alight. I realize that all of Blossom’s fear and helplessness have been forged into rage. A weapon she intends to wield against a threatening world. Starting with those closest to her. 

“Who is Dashiel?” I speak into the tension choking the silent room.

Blossom turns on me, nearly snarling. I swallow, hard. I suppress my nervousness, along with any outward sign of pity. I know that neither would be well received just now.

“Your pardon, my Lady,” I continue evenly. “I would not ask if it were not important.” 

I do not fully understand what is happening in this family. I do not know who else may be involved in corrupting Poppy. And I cannot let delicacy stand in the way of obtaining information that may be useful to us in defeating the malignant presence that has established itself here!

“Dashiel is my second son.” Blossom seems, for the first time, small. 

“Beltin here is a lot like his father. May he rest in Urogalan’s bosom. Dashiel, my middle child, he was too much like me. After Dandon left us, Dashiel struggled. He and I…our edges scraped against each other. He was so unhappy…” She continues, her voice dull with grief.

“Dashiel left for the Deep two years ago. We have not had news of him since his departure.” 

I bow my head, making no further effort to conceal my sadness. This family is so broken! And I do not know what to do to fix it. I think of Amber. His chosen work is to help those who are unhappy. I wish that he was here. Certainly he would know how to bring solace to this heart-hurt clan! 

I think of the Hin musicians that Vaikner and I met in Trollskull Alley. The hunger in their faces when we tossed them coins. And the even more hopeless longing in their eyes when they sang of home…

I imagine Dashiel – a cheerful face with a shy smile like Poppy’s and round cheeks like Beltin’s. I see that face pale and thin, the smile wavering…

Blossom does not even know where Dashiel is! She is unable to help her own child! And what were his feelings? To part from his family, striking out on his own on such bad terms? Memories of my Mama’s fear-filled eyes, of arguments and pleading, rise up sharp and sour, hurting my stomach. I push them away and quietly resolve to find Dashiel when I return to Waterdeep. Brother Helmsing, Eliana’s mentor, is the one who sent us here. It stands to reason that he maintains ties with Hin community both in Undercliff and in the Deep. I will discuss this with Eliana. She can ask Brother Helmsing to collect news of the missing Dashiel. 

A little cheered by this plan, I look over at my companions. The sadness woven throughout this home still weighs heavily on them. Sister is back down on the floor, comforting and being comforted by Gallop. Speaking somberly, Eliana is telling the Hin about the final moments of our encounter with the mold monsters. This time, she is unsparing with all that we have discovered; she shares all of our suspicions. 

“Now that Elodie and I have examined all those in this house, I can confirm that we have all been infected by this contagion. And that the source of all this seems to be Poppy’s little doll. It is a match to the one in the mill house. It’s possessed by a fiendish presence.” She says bluntly.

Consternation greets her words. Beltin is afraid, his face glistening with sweat as he looks around nervously and mutters his way to ever increasing paranoia. Blossom, rousing herself from her sadness-shrunken state, breaks out with a new crop of angry questions, desperately worried for Poppy. And Cathilda panics.

“Foul sorcery! Devilry! Filth! What have you all done? I cannot stay in this haunted place another moment!” Her words are ugly and the sick scent of her terror stains my air.

She turns to run out of the house. 

“Stay here! You cannot leave! None of us can leave!” Eliana’s voice rings out with authority.

Cathilda stumbles over a colorfully woven rug and, trembling and weeping, sags against the wall. There is a brief moment when all is still and silent. And then, peeking around the doorframe, we notice Poppy’s wide-eyed face. The little girl, roused from sleep by loud voices, has crept to the sitting room door. She is looking over at her mother in concern. Her arms still wrapped around her horrid doll.

“Little Flower.” Blossom soothes the child. “Why are you up from your nice bed? Go back to sleep, Poppet.”

Poppy gives a tiny rebellious shake of her head. Her stormy eyes threaten tears.

“Get that doll away from her!” Eliana hisses to Blossom.

“Gallop can do it. Get her to talk to him like she did before and tell him to take the doll away!’ Blossom frantically whispers back, gesturing with her chin to Sister.

Eliana speaks to Sister in a language that I do not recognize. I like how it sounds though: like wind rustling through tree leaves and springs burbling in their beds. The effect of her words is dramatic. Sister, low-voiced, snuffles at Gallop and, almost in the same instant, the large dog leaps forward. Arcing through the air towards his little play-mate, his great jaws snap with exquisite precision. He bounds down and prances a little, delightedly. The corn husk doll is held proudly in his mouth. 

Poppy’s piercing shrieks fill the room as the little Halfling realizes that her toy is gone from her grasp.

“Do not hurt her! Do not hurt her! She says I will never see my daddy again if you hurt her!”

My heart sore and my anger growing, I draw Vess. And then stop, horrified. The same hideous duo of voices that echoed through the mill house sounds out from Gallop’s jaws! I hear no words but the doll is screaming in two voices. The same high-pitched sweet child’s tone intermixed with a deep, clotted gargling. Gallop’s ears flatten back against his head as the doll starts to spasm and squirm between his teeth.

“Destroy it! Destroy the doll!” Eliana calls urgently.

I take a step towards the cringing dog. But Gallop’s momentary shock has passed. Hackles raised, he goes from cowed animal to furious beast in moments. Growling and shaking his head, he is trying to rip the doll to pieces as it continues its chorus of screams. Unable to attack the malignant little figurine without injuring Gallop, I pause and try to focus. I murmur to My Lady. I just need a little help, a way to channel a fraction of Aerdrie Faenya’s gift of lightening at my small target…

A glowing splinter seems to break from Vess’ edge, glittering and sparkling towards Gallop’s jaws. It strikes the head of the twisting doll, engulfing it in a wreath of cold blue flame. The voices screech once more, piteous and raging, and then are silenced. Gallop gives the figure one more triumphant shake and it disintegrates into smoking pieces. He allows the charred fragments to drop from his mouth onto the floor.

I look around the room, breathing hard. Blossom has Poppy enfolded in her arms. She is trying to comfort her fledgling. Poppy’s screams have tapered off into keening whimpers. 

Eliana and Sister, clearly having failed to observe the finessed, precisely targeted attack that actually destroyed the foul doll, are smothering Gallop with praise for his victory over the fiendish toy. He looks quite smug. Even more so when Eliana gives him a generous portion of the food she usually reserves for Pip’s special treats.

Sighing ruefully, I force myself back into my focused state and commune with my Lady of Winds and Skies. Inhaling slowly, taking in the whole room, I seek for the scorching heat of a fiendish presence. None remains. Eliana is looking at me expectantly. At my nod, her face softens with relief. She turns to Beltin and Cathilda. Both of whom are still standing nearby, shocked into immobility.

“I’ll need your help. Both of you.” She says calmly. “The last pieces of that thing should be burned. As should any mushrooms that remain in this house.”

The Hin seem reassured by having a mundane task set before them. Beltin helps Cathilda sweep the smoldering corn husks into a bucket and then they both retreat to the kitchen to scour their home of any remaining contagion.

I envy them. Remaining in the sitting room means listening to Poppy’s continued weeping. The child’s bereft whimpers rend my spirit. She does not respond to Blossom’s murmured attempts at comfort. After a few painful moments, I hear Vaikner bustling around in his pack. Glancing curiously in his direction, I watch him retrieve the package containing the fairy dragon toy he obtained at Uza’s shop.

“Here you are, Poppy,” he offers it gently to the little Hin girl. “I know that you lost your doll and need a new friend. This fairy dragon also needs a friend. Can you take care of him for me?”

Then, wincing slightly and mouthing a sheepish apology to us all, Vaikner unwraps the toy. Once again, we hear the lilting notes of the Fey lullaby. It plays and plays and plays. Even as its hauntingly sweet tones grow cloying, I realize that I am no longer hearing the sound of weeping.

Poppy reaches out tremulously and pulls the toy in close. For the first time in all this ghastly evening, her eyes fill with happy light. She bends down and kisses the dragon toy’s head. The music stops! 

Vaikner looks at the little girl, stunned. I feel an impending attack of entirely inappropriate mirth threatening. I struggle to suppress an unseemly flood of giggles. I can only imagine the many attempts that Vaikner made to shut off the tinkling music! Only to have it continue to sound out stubbornly, mocking him melodically from the depths of his back pack. And here, within moments of receiving his gift, Poppy discovered the sweet and artless gesture required to turn the lullaby off!

Shaking only slightly, torn between tears and laughter, I watch as the fledgling wraps her arms around the fairy dragon and smiles up shyly at Vaikner. And, finally, speaks softly. 

“Thank you” Poppy whispers. 

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I hope that you enjoyed (and sympathized with!) our company’s attempts to bring answers and healing to the traumatized community of Undercliff.

Please visit my playlist on Spotify. I will be populating this with all of our campaign tunes as we adventure onwards: