One day of carousing quickly turned into two. Bancroft woke the next morning with his head lying on the dirt, a tuft of grass for a pillow. Despite the alcohol he felt surprisingly refreshed; a deeper sense of connection to the earth filled him. A night spent outside of town had done him good.
The fog of alcohol blurred his memories of the prior night, but he had been separated from his companions earlier in the evening. It did not take long to find them: they were occupying the stocks in the center of town next to Druidly, who had attempted to burn down the wizard Mazzah’s tower the night before. Apparently further adventure would have to wait.
With little else to do, Bancroft walked the outskirts of town talking with farmers, foresters, hunters, and woodsmen seeking rumors. Once or twice in the distant past his grandmother had whispered of a sect called the Druids — men who venerated and tended nature and were allied with animals. Meeting the man who called himself Druidly brought that memory back. Perhaps they were out there somewhere in the deep woods, but no one had heard of them recently.
A few days later his friends were released from the stockade and it was time to return to the Barrowmaze.
It had been several days since the fight with bandits and rats, but there were still opals within that might be claimed. Unfortunately the path to that barrow was blocked by four giant toads. The toads did not seem interested in attacking but kept their eyes on the party when approached. Beyond the toads the barrow door had somehow closed itself once more.
After discussion the toads were deemed too great a risk to remove while they remained. Bancroft wanted to attempt to negotiate with the toads in the language of the forest; it seemed worth trying but also risked more attention. Helfen the halfling made the decision moot by throwing rocks at the toads to lure them away — that did not go well. Helfen spent the next few hours desperately evading those that followed, while the toads still blocked the barrow entrance.
The group chose to move to the next barrow. This one had two stone doors. Bancroft invoked nature to try to open them, urging grasses and vines to grow between the cracks and shatter the stone. Though Sylvanus answered and plants visibly moved toward the doors, the attempt failed: the energies of death were too strong and the plants withered as they approached.
The group lacked the proper tools to destroy the door, but improvisation with one of Druidly’s daggers and a stonemason’s hammer cracked it after a few hours.
Inside, a jeweled sword rested on an altar surrounded by six graves containing skeletons likely to rise if disturbed. The sword was clearly valuable and likely magical. The skeletons wore rusty chain mail and wielded weapons that might fetch coin if reclaimed. The risk of awakening the undead was too great; the best plan was to grab the sword and run.
With Bancroft ready to invoke nature to rebuke death and Helfen returned from being chased by toads, Druidly volunteered to seize the sword and run. The skeletons, however, were waiting. The moment Druidly touched the sword the skeletons swarmed him as if they had been waiting for precisely that.
Bancroft invoked the power of Sylvanus and the undead wavered for a moment. One shattered to dust and was absorbed by the earth; another fled. Four remained. They swung rusted weapons at Druidly, who dodged frantically and somehow survived, Helfen’s chanted prayers to Fortuna lending him luck. When Druidly saw an opening he ran toward Bancroft and tossed him the jeweled sword. The skeletons followed.
The situation looked grim: four undead remained in the barrow and Bancroft stood between them and the entrance. If he could hold, Helfen could join and lend prayers to turn the remaining skeletons, but there would be no one else to take their blows. Bancroft tossed away his original sword and drew the jeweled one, planting his feet on the stairs and preparing to make his stand.
