Heart of Oak

The Basar Clans

The report from the adventurers they'd hired to investigate the northern forests had returned.

To the Council of the Clansmen of Basaran,

Way up north, beyond the outlying towns of Rykensvik, lies a forest previously undocumented by local cartographers. The area has been for years mostly grasslands with sparse patches of trees. As if overnight and likely by magical means, a thick, lush old wood oak forest has sprung up around Mirror Lake. At the heart of this forest is mega-flora. A massive oak tree stands at its center with a canopy stretching across a hundred yards. An unusual coalition of creatures inhabits it, all the non-human variety. We have contacted the residents of this forest. There is a thunder mage slime, a snowy owl-kin, a centaur, a wolf-kin or werewolf, and controlling all of this is a giant sentient oak treant whose name is "Oakengrove".

Legends tell of a similar creature by the same name. However, our research mentioned that Oakengrove was a ceremonial tree that burnt down a couple hundred years ago. However, I also have a word of warning. Oakengrove is a creature of immense arcane power and is not afraid of using it. When our best mage used a detection spell to gauge his magical prowess, Oakengrove's aura overwhelmed her.

He also gave us a warning. He wishes to be left alone and that no outsider trespass upon his forest.

Roderick Franco Helsmouth

Green Thorn Warband

Castias set down the note on the oval wooden table. The lamia adjusted himself atop his coiled tail. "I find it hard to believe that the deity of Florism has not just manifested but chose to live in isolation from his own worshippers."

Sitting beside him was a large, white, burly, large-bearded human man with long locks of black hair. "I'm more concerned that we have something that goes by the name of a deity and has enough magical presence to upset your stomach simply by awakening. We could very well have the second coming."

Across the table was a scrawnier red-head man in a dark blue and green plaid kilt and tan shirt. "High King, if this entity wants to be left alone, I say it's best that we do so."

Beside him was a slightly older male with scraggly brown hair and a scar on his right cheek. "Kane, we're talking about the return of our god. Would you not want to see the very deity that created the Basar people?"

Kane shrugged. "You know me, Theo. I believe in man-made steel. Steel wins wars, tills fields, Religion doesn't."

Theodore let out a sigh. "More garden space for me then."

"Druid Hranji," Oswald turned to the lamia. "Would it be too much of a hassle for you to visit this treant as an envoy of the Basar Clans and as the Druid of the Florist Faith?"

"I suppose not," Castias hesitantly responded. "It'll take at least a month if not longer to get there."

"So be it. Safe travels." Oswald wished him aloud.

"Back to the important matters at hand," interjected another council member. "Rykensvik is showing weariness in dealing with the Arkinics and Solists. The Empires need to be brought to the table."

"I'm well aware of the situation Gilli," Oswald raised his hand. "Theodore Malus, where are your fleets?"

"Awaiting orders. Docked on an island just southeast." Theodore replied.

"Marlyn, Ornsson, and Harringold rally your men and board them. We're going to hit the Arkinics where it hurts."

The Green Thorn Warband, a name coined by Dmahdi, was the official unofficial name of Roderick's group of sellswords and mercenaries. They'd gathered enough coin to have a permanent residence within the town of Gelwood and, in a way, almost successfully chased out the international "Adventurer's Guild". Most of the time, when it came to matters that the town guard deemed "Not their responsibility," Roderick's group picked up the slack.