A Treasure Hunt in Navorost(Dovie)

August 3, 2025

PlotLog

Date: 2025-08-02 20:12

(A Treasure Hunt in Navorost(Dovie):Dovie)

[Sat Aug 2 2025]

In a dense jungle outpost deep in Eastern Navorost/span>/spanThe jungles of Eastern Navorost breathe with a life all their own. Hot, dense, and ever-watchful, there is a sense that this place is alive, even if hidden from plain view. The air here hangs thick with humid tension, the kind that clings to the skin and fogs thoughts, promising a thunderous downpour at any moment. Every leaf seems oversized, every vine a coil of waiting muscle, draped in dew and swaying with secrets. Insects buzz in maddening choruses, from high-pitched whines that slip beneath helmets to deep, resonant drones that vibrate through the underbrush./span>/spanAmong the sea of tangled green and shadow stands a wooden outpost, half-sunken into the foliage. Built from dark jungle timber and patched with salvaged cloth and metal, it is barely visible beneath the creeping ferns, mosses, and flowering vines that have reclaimed its walls. A crumbling sign, barely legible through the lichen, hints at a name long forgotten. Wooden walkways creak underfoot, leading to raised platforms strung between trees like crude watchtowers./span>/spanBird calls and distant howls echo unnervingly through the trees, mingling with the steady drip of condensation and the restless stirring of things unseen. Twisting roots rise like ribs from the forest floor, knotted and slick with moss. Trees tower in impossible shapes, some with glowing sap that pulses faintly like a heartbeat. Spiral-shelled beetles the size of dinner plates scuttle beneath broad leaves. Butterflies as large as hawks float by, and in the distance, something feathered and scaled lets out a rattling, prehistoric screech./span>/spannight, about 76F(24C) degrees, and there are a few thin white clouds in the sky. The mist is heaviest At Foxglove and Woodcrest/span>/span There is a waxing gibbous moon.

“… I knew that. I just like showing it off. She worked hard on it,” Amber admits awkwardly. Maybe a little defensively. And then through the mirror she goes.

Gabriel looks around immediately upon stepping through the mirror, a look of disdain apparent on his face, “I already dislike this place.”

The group of adventurers steps through the rippling mirrorgate. Where once there was a cool chamber, they now step into a dense jungle. The first thing to notice is the heat: humid air, cloying and sticky, causing sweat immediately (for those who are still able). The second thing of note is the dark of night. And the last? The sounds of the wild jungle. This is no jungle of television ilk. Chirps of nocturnal birds and insects of all kinds pepper the air, reminds that this place is alive.

Dovie pulls out the treasure map a moment, examining it closely with her nightvision. “Amber can you repeat for us all what recon you were able to find?” She squints. Looks like we should be heading south from the outpost…”

Somewhere in the distance, there is the crack of thunder before a flash of lightning illuminates the area for a moment. The heavy air is a reminder that a downpour might be imminent at any moment.

Esme wrinkles her nose a little as she finishes adjusting her gear. “I’m gonna need a thousand showers after this.” She mumbles, ready to listen to Amber’s info.

Amber frowns as she looks over the place, pocketing the gun and her hand again. “Gross. Outdoors,” she comments with a frown. Then to Dovie, “Not a lot. Just that the word that translates to ‘nectar’ also means ‘blood.’ So reading the map sounds like we’ll need to bleed at some point?”

Dovie nods at Amber. “I suppose we’ll find out.” She takes a deep breath and looks between Arachne, Esme, Amber and Gabriel, telling the group. “Alright, a brief rundown. My contact at the Concordat has requested that we find Sylvana’s Tears. It’s a tale long known in Navorost as a cautionary tale told to children, many think it’s a hoax, even. The nectar of Sylvana’s Tears is said to have strong magical properties for rituals, so I’ve brought some glass vials too. If you haven’t heard of the story…” someone takes another deep breath and recites from memory:

“Supposedly Sylvana was a wildling healer who lived long ago in these jungles in a civilization whose name has been lost to time. She was promised as a bride to a king in the west in exchange for peace in the lands, but she loved the jungles so much that she swore she would never leave. In exchange for being able to stay, she bargained with the fae for magic that would tether her to the land forever…” Dovie’s face grows rather grim.

“So in exchange for her soul, the fae bid that she never move again. She was rooted in place and died in the land she loved. It’s said her resting place is a sacred hollow and that a curious plant grew out of her final resting place.” She sighs a moment. “Not even sure if it’s real… so we’ll find out. Any last questions?”

Dovie nods at Amber. “I suppose we’ll find out.” She takes a deep breath and looks between Arachne, Esme, Amber and Gabriel, telling the group. “Alright, a brief rundown. My contact at the Concordat has requested that we find Sylvana’s Tears. It’s a tale long known in Navorost as a cautionary tale told to children, many think it’s a hoax, even. The nectar of Sylvana’s Tears is said to have strong magical properties for rituals, so I’ve brought some glass vials too. If you haven’t heard of the story…” Dovie takes another deep breath and recites from memory:

Gabriel gives a brief shake of his head and looks around to see how the others are responding.

Esme listens to the briefing with interest, “Well figuring out if it’s real is half tha fun.” She assures Dovie with a thoughtful sound. “No questions. But feel free t’ thumb through that book as we walk. Maybe we’ll find somethin’ useful.”

Arachne’s head turns toward the crack of lightning that booms within the distance, exhaling a breath as she adjusts to the overwhelming scents of the jungle. A cursory check is given over her gear one last time, hefting her carefully packed backpack and working her arms through its straps. “How tragic,” she murmurs at Dovie, upon hearing the tale. “Were your contractors able ot provide any information on particular threats that we might encounter?”

Amber shakes her head as well, “Looking for something that might not exist. Got it.” She pauses, for the thunder, then does end up wondering, “Odds that this intel is a fae game that ends in us enslaved forever?”

Dovie nods at Esme. “Yes, that will be immensely helpful, I think. Good thinking on bringing it! If anyone sees interesting flora or fauna, I’m not opposed to stopping for samples. There’s a wealth of things we could learn here.” To Arachne, she adds, “The jungles here in the eastern lands are apparently notorious for all manner of strange creatures. Worse yet, giant creatures compared to the ones roaming in our lands. Snakes, insects, and mammals all.” A grim chuckle is given to Amber. “Let’s hope that’s not the case…”

She looks around, squinting up at the sky to get oriented via the stars, and points in a particular direction. “All right, this way…” She sets off, leading the others away.

The group trudges through the thick jungle. The insects ARE much larger here. The largest so far likely being fireflies the size of baseball bats floating around. At last the group comes upon a hidden grove. The canopy is thick, but still some beams of moonlight get through, illuminating that the vines here are all of various different colors.

Most striking of all, when the breeze filters through, various vines sway, eliciting different musical notes. There seems to be a path ahead, but it’s blocked by a variety of vines. Dovie stops to read the treasure map again, frowning at the blockage. “We need to get to the other side of that…”

Esme huhs as they come upon the multicolored vines. A clear curiosity and interest. “Well. Maybe it’s some kind of puzzle?” She supposes, adjusting her weapons so she can thumb through the book with her natural night vision as if it might hold any clues to the vines. ”

Amber lingers at a fair distance from the vines, eying them warily. “Hope we don’t have to feed them,” she murmurs.

Arachne aggressively sprays a home-brew concoction toward the massive insects buzzing around through the air, a gift from Isabelle, drifting behind the group, her gait a touch dramatic as she stomps through the overgrowth. “Beautiful,” she breathes, now, when she glances up at the gorgeous vines dangling from above. She tilts her head slightly to the side, eyes half-lidding as she listens to the musical notes. “Likely,” she agrees with Esme.

The nerd in the blonde is coming out as she slinks closer to the vines and the stone. “Mmhm. Yeah. I think we gotta find ah musical note pattern. The vines make musical notes when they’re pulled and the right kind of combo can make them open….So no feeding. Just playing. But I don’t really have an ear for music.” Esme figures.

A string of almost musical sounding notes plays as the variously colored vines sway to the latest breeze.

Gabriel seems very wary of the absolutely massive bugs as they move along through the jungle, his focus only shifting away from them to fall on the living tapestry of musical vines filling the area. “Are any of us musically inclined?” he asks the rest of his adventuring party.

One of the massive baseball sized fireflies gets a facefull of the concoction, dropping to the ground where it writhes in clear pain, it light flickering, flickering, flicker- it’s dead.

Two more of these giant fireflies swarm to the corpse of their brethren, signaled by the dying, flickering light. They begin to buzz, angrily, their movements erratic, one of them diving towards Arachne. The angry buzzing drowns out the dulcet tones of the vines for a few moments.

“Arachne! Watch out!” Dovie cries out with a gasp.

Amber slips out of the path of the insects, in case Arachne dodges. Her hand in her pocket grips something, pulling out her knife a moment later. But she doesn’t interfere, trusting Arachne’s competence. Or maybe just cowardice. “The map mentions drops of blood for truth, so maybe someone bleed on ’em if more bugs start coming?” her tone is on-edge.

“It’s entirely possible,” Dovie tells Amber. “We’re a ways away from where the map says Sylvana’s Tears are though, I wonder if…” Her eyes linger on a nearby stone and she squints. “Can anyone make that out?”

Gabriel draws his sword and moves to get between Arachne and the oncoming bugs, their attention having turned toward him anyway. Despite their remarkable size he swats them down easily, letting them fall as the droning buzz of their wings falls silent.

Esme looks toward the stone to try and decipher it better as Gabriel and Arachne handle the bugs.

Arachne jolts at Dovie’s shout, her head snapping up to spare a glance up toward the baseball-sized insects diving toward her. She reflexively works with Gabriel, a flash of sizzling light molding into an after image of him to give the insects a lure to allow him additional time to react.

The two fireflies zoom towards Arachne, but in their confusion after that sizzling light, they pivot towards Gabriel instead, only to be met with a swift death. Their bodies thud onto the ground, a similar flickering, flickering… until at last, there is no more light, other than the moonlight filtering from above.

Amber waits for the bugs to die, waiting a moment to see if the dead ones attract more. Then she shuffles over towards Esme and the stone to squint and read.

Esme sighs and shakes her head. “I can’t really…though there’s scratch marks on it. We could just try pulling on the vines and seeing what happens. That could make it worse though. Especially if more of these lightning bugs are gonna start showing up. And whatever caused these scratches…”

Dovie looks over towards Gabriel and Arachne in concern. “You two alright?”

A beam of moonlight strikes at just the right moment to illuminate the words etched into the stone…

Gabriel wipes his blade off on some nearby grass before putting it back into its sheath and nodding to Dovie, “We’re fine. Hows the deciphering going?”

“Good,” Dovie says with relief, pointing at the now illuminated words on the stone (look stone). “What do we think?”

“We’re okay,” Arachne sounds off the affirmative to Dovie, a grateful smile cast to Gabriel, her knight, before moving to join Esme and Amber. She leans forward, skimming over the stone curiously with an academic interest.

Amber shifts her weight back and forth, uncomfortable, as she reads the etchings, “Uuuh. Second one might be the red vine? It’s going like a heartbeat, and the line mentions beating.”

Esme lightly scratches her jaw. “The last line could be this yellow one? It’s shinin.”

Dovie nods at Esme. “Good enough for me… what about the first and third though,” she scratches her head, murmuring the lines aloud. “Growing… growing… green for that?” She hazards a guess.

Gabriel looks over the stones a few times then looks to the vines, taking a guess of his own, “Green, red, blue, yellow?”

Arachne inhales a slow breath, then turns her head to scan the vines over. She immediately moves forward, without warning, starting for the blue vine, then the crimson, then the pink, and finally the braided vine.

“Was thinking maybe green, but wasn’t sure,” Amber admits to Dovie and Gabriel, attention turning to Arachne to observe the results.

Four different tones echo into the air, each a distinctive note after Arachne touches them. There’s a rumble, slow at first, that builds, shaking the clearing ground before a heavier vine begin to shoot out at the adventurers with an aggressive intent.

Arachne does not touch any of the vines, seeming to consider them all before she reconfigures herself for the blue vine, then the crimson, the draped one, and the gold one. Rather than pulling them directly herself.

hold on sorry!@

(Please ignore that! Rewind, just touching, nothing to see here…)

Dovie scratches her head, “I suppose we should decide, what do you think, Arachne? Should we just try something?” she suggests to the rest of the group.

Arachne knits her brows, now, as her gaze pulls away from the vines to look over to Gabriel, Dovie, Esme, and Amber. “The blue vine, crimson vine, the draped vine, and the braided or gold vine are my assumptions, based off their characteristics and the riddle.”

“I’m amenable to trying any combination you all want,” Dovie tells the group.

“I mean, I’m not getting any older, but I figure the rest of you might wanna get moving. Let’s give ’em a yank. If it doesn’t work, try green first? Since a few of us thought so?” Amber suggests, though she remains over by the rock instead of the vines.

Gabriel nods a few times after considering the vines, “I think it’s best if we just attempt something. What’s the worst that could happen? We’ve got two combinations mentioned already we can try.”

Dovie readies her crossbow. “I’m armed just in case. Go ahead?”

Esme readies her bow – just in case

At Amber’s words, Arachne looks toward the green vine to study it closely, then delicately pulls upon it, followed by the crimson, the draped one, and the braided one.

Four different tones echo into the air, each a distinctive note after Arachne touches them. There’s a rumble, slow at first…

And then…

The vines recede from the path ahead… Dovie lets out a sigh of relief.

Dovie lowers her crossbow. “Well, glad not to need this yet,” she enthuses, stomping on ahead through the pathway.”

Amber gives two thumbs up to Arachne, though her right hand still holds her knife. Then she trails along with the group onward.

Esme holds her breath but then mimic’s Dovie’s sigh of relief and lowers her bow as they continue on.

Gabriel follows right along, still looking out for more of those giant bugs.

The path is a comfortable width, but as the group trudges deper into the jungle, it turns into a narrower winding path, single file only. Trees tower above and with every step, the adventurers must bat away underbrush, tree branches, vines, and even maybe creatures. No more of the fireflies, but there are other strange insects that light up the evening, keeping it from being pitch black… As they trek ever forward, Dovie checks the maps over and over, stepping forward on good faith…

But as they continue on the winding path, the ambient noises grow more quiet. There are less luminscent insects here, even… but there is… something. The air is heavy and tense. Is it the jungle… or…?

The group would hear a low hissing noise, not quite upon them, but close, getting closer with every passing heartbeat, and the slither of something through the undergrowth.

Esme adjusts the hold her bow carefully as that slither and hissing catch her ears, gaze darting around for the source, lips pursed.

Gabriel already has his hand around the hilt of his blade, eyes searching for where the sound is coming from.

“There,” Amber calls out lowly, pointing out the location of those scales for those who can fight the thing with something more than a hunting knife.

When Arachne illuminates the area around them, the remaining insects cease their sounds. The still evening is only left with the sound of slithering and now, the form of a giant basilisk can be seen, it’s body as thick as a tree trunk as it slithers towards its potential meal…

Dovie says “Oh shit.“

“Fuckin’ Hell.” Esme says as she spies the basilisk, leveling her bow. “…but also we should definitely get some ah those scales if we don’t all turn int’ stone first.”

“It most certainly would be useful for Isabelle at least,” Arachne murmurs in agreement toward Esme, quick to unsheathe her daggers, one twisted, ready to be thrown as she keeps still, lest the basilisk be tempted to go for her. She, subtly, puts it between her and Gabriel of course.

Gabriel has his sword in hand, eager grin worn on his lips as he readies to charge at the creature, “Haven’t got to fight one of these before. This should be fun.”

Esme grimaces as she takes a step back in the wake of the fight ending. “Oww that fuckin’ hurt.”

Dovie pants for breath, stopping to stoop over the corpse of one of the basilisks. “Hoooly shit. Fuck snakes,” she says, glancing over to Esme. “You okay? Do you need bandages?”

Esme shakes her head, waving her hand a little. “Nono, I’m alright.” She assures. “But I’m takin’ one of their fuckin’ skins in retaliation.”

Gabriel pokes at the corpses with the tip of a blade, making sure they’re all well and truly dead before calling back to the others, “Everyone alright? No missing limbs or anyone turned to stone?”

“A little worse for wear, but otherwise fine,” Arachne promises, now, after methodically checking herself over for wounds once the adrenaline of the fight has faded. She turns her head to look first to Dovie, ensuring her vassal safe, before Gabriel, Amber, then finally Esme. “We can certainly skin them.”

Amber lingers back until it’s clear the basilisks are dead or dying, only jogging in to make sure they’re dead in the end. “Bright side,” she says, nudging the nearest with a foot, “No sneakers got bit after all.” She passes a crooked grin over her shoulder. But then she notices Esme did take a hit, “Shit, sorry.” At talk of skinning, she looks from Arachne to Dovie to wait for the expedition leader’s thoughts on whether to linger.

Dovie wipes sweat off of her brow, the adrenaline dying down now. “Yes, go ahead. Skin them if you want. Might as well, there’s a couple if anyone wants the snakeskin.”

“We can take a quick breath, check for injuries, and then we should go on, we’re getting close.” Dovie says, checking the map again.

Esme gives Amber a crooked smile, “I’ll live.” And in fact, she’s already seemed to recovered from the bulk of the hits she took. She kneels down to get to work skinning one of the snakes while they take their break. “I’m very curious t’ see what we find.”

Amber squats down by the one she already kicked, putting that knife to work finally.

Gabriel sets to work skinning the last one, drawing a knife from his pocket to make the work a bit easier.

Arachne draws out her dagger, moving to one of the remaining basilisk corpses to begin carefully skinning it with precision with Gabriel. “Perhaps Miss White can make something useful of it,” she supposes, before beginning to butcher open the snake, the innards of its belly splashing out over the ground, and something catches her eye.

Dovie has calmed down and gotten her bearings again, nodding to the group. “Let me know when you all are done with your skinning.” She reaches into her backpack, pulling out a bottle of water, which she drinks, offering it to anyone else after. “The path continues on ahead.”

Esme finishes getting her own snake skin, storing it away for later plans. She’ll accept the water using some to rinse her hands before offering the bottle back to Dovie. “I’m good.”

Dovie nods at Esme, offering the bottled water over before she glances towards Amber, Arachne, and Gabriel. “We good?”

Amber glances aside to the others, lingering on Arachne a few moments before she peels away the prize and stands up. A left-handed thumbs-up to Dovie, “Yup.”

Gabriel wipes the gore and grime off on his shirt, not seeming to mind in the slightest, “I’m good, yeah.”

Arachne carefully extracts old jewelry twisted in bloodied entrails, turning it over with a narrowed eye before pushing it into a parcel, and into her backpack for safekeeping. “Good,” she echoes back to Dovie, nodding sharply to Amber and Gabriel.

Dovie nods and leads everyone onwards!

The jungle gives way to yet another hidden glade, but here, the air is cool as a pool of water can be seen ahead. Clustered all over the water’s surface are tranluscent, delicate moonpetals/span>/spanDovie scratches her head. “When I spoke to Marcel before embarking on this quest, he mentioned it would be a good idea to provide offerings…” She looks upon the bowls. “I wonder what this is about…”

Esme looks around with some curiosity as they continue on the path, a little relief felt from the slightly cooler air. “Did he say what kind of offerings?” She wonders, admiring the moonpetal blooms briefly – and also consulting the book to see if there’s anything interesting to note about them.

Dovie approaches the water to gently pull some of the moonpetal blooms into her hand. She rummages a moment in her backpack and carefully packs a container with the plants, being sure to add some water from the pool. “Three kinds. Physical items. Something meaningful like a memory or truth. Or a secret, or some sort of forbidden knowledge,” she muses, looking to the others.

Esme considers, “Is it like…a spoken aloud thing or ah…is this where we prick our fingers and bleed everywhere?”

Amber shuffles along after, as usual. She wanders all the way up to the bowls to squint at them, “Hand, heart, eye. Really wish I found more info. Hoping it isn’t literal.” She looks over to Dovie, “Oh, uh. The map mentioned a drop of blood for memory or truth.” A nod towards Esme.

Gabriel looks closer at the carvings on all of the offering bowls, “I’m always up for people bleeding.”

Dovie checks her map, shaking her head at Esme and Amber. “I think the grove we need is ahead. We’re close though, but I don’t think this is a blood offering. I assume if we offer one of the other two categories, we just speak it aloud. It couldn’t hurt right? Any volunteers?”

Arachne lowers herself down at the edges of the water beside Dovie, stretching out a hand to delicately touch at the petal she gathers in her hand. “Of course you are,” she teases under her breath to Gabriel, shifting over to study the bowls of offering now as well.

“I would imagine that the heart symbolizes something sentimental or desired, the eye is knowledge or secrets, and the hand is an action or it could be a tool,” Arachne theorizes aloud, turning her eyes to Esme and Amber to consult with them. “What do you think? I can offer something of the heart, to test, as my sacrifice.”

Amber passes another thumbs-up Arachne’s way, “Seems better than spilling secrets first off, anyway.”

Esme shifts a little as she eyes the bowls. “The hand is probably the physical thing, yeah.” Seeming to agree with everything else as well. “It’s worth a shot.” She nods to Arachne, “The worst that happens is-well. I was going to say nothing but then remembered where we are and that it’s wholly likely some monster comes outta the water.”

The water is entirely still. Maybe too still, even. The moonpetals float upon the surface, moving gently to an unseen breeze.

Dovie is busy collecting a second flower, because of course she is…

Gabriel ignores the definitely not suspicious flowers, “I’ll be ready to stab whatever does inevitably try to eat us. Who has something worth offering?”

Dovie looks up, gazing curiously at Arachne’s journal. “If you have something to offer, may as well. The map says we’re very close, if I have our location correct.” She very, very carefully secures the containers, putting them away in her backpack, treating it like the precious cargo it is to her…

Arachne takes a knee by the water’s edge, unshouldering her hiking back to draw out something far too precious to part with, even to the deep jungles of Navorost; a vintage journal bound in black velvet with Rocco-inspired filigree. She reaches inside, gently coaxing loose an aged photo of a prepubescent version of herself and Dovie, linked arm in arm, worn by time, and creased, settling it into the bowl meant for the heart. She is silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before she turns to Dovie. “Do we … send it adrift on the waters or burn it in offering?”

Dovie smiles at seeing the photo of Arachne and herself. “I think set it adrift. I don’t see scorch marks or ash in or around the bowls,” she offers back to Arachne. “I didn’t know you kept that photo.”

“It is one of few keepsakes I was allowed,” Arachne offers in delicate explanation to Dovie, never one to dwell on such deeply personal things, especially not in Esme, Amber and Gabriel’s earshot. A gentle nudge of the fingers encourages the bowl, and a piece of her heart, to float off into the waters. A mournful melancholy surrounds her briefly, before the emotion fades, banished away by will alone.

The bowl glides off on the still waters, drawn by something magical and unseen. Soon, it is out of reach, moving ever closer to the waterfall where it is filled and sunk into the pool itself. There are no sounds, only silence. And a moment later, the bowl remerges from the shore, moving back into place, without the offering.

The mists at the base of the waterfall begins to recede… leaving clear sight of a path in the moonlit evening. A series of flat stones rise up in the pool: stepping stones towards the path, that urges the adventurers into the waterfall itself and beyond…

Dovie looks on in relief. “Well paid for then,” she murmurs, a dipping nod of her head to Arachne. “Thank you.”

Amber furrows her brows a little, but she doesn’t ask for details. She follows along as they move once more, letting out a relieved sigh that one seemed sufficient.

Leading the group upon the stepping stones and literally through the waterfall itself, Dovie and the adventurers would arrive now in yet another grove, one hidden in a cavern.

At the heart of the cavern is a twist of roots, what once may have been a body, now given back to nature. Three blossoms grow from the latticework.

“We’re here,” Dovie tells Amber, Arachne, Gabriel, and Esme. She looks to Amber. “You said it required blood?”

Esme follows along, quiet and contemplative, pausing when they reach the grove and the mass of roots. The final destination, as it were.

“Well, nectar and blood are supposed to be the same word in this language,” Amber explains uneasily, “And the map mentioned something about nectar, right? Want me to bleed on them or something?”

Moonlight illuminates the mass of roots.

Arachne remains quiet, trailing behind the group toward their final objective. She scans over the area, a hand lifted to brush a fingertip at something agitating her lashline, before it falls away. “Nectar from the petals you gathered, perhaps,” she reasons to Dovie in the wake of Amber’s explanation, leaning toward the beam of moonlight that illuminates the mass of roots.

Dovie pulls out the treasure map to read: “The sweetest sap is drawn through pain. One drop to call the memory. One more to taste the truth. From root to bloom, the cycle flows. Nectar shall beget nectar…” She looks between the others. “I don’t mind trying both. Which should we start with?” The Fairchild hums a moment, considering Amber. “The word nectar also meant blood, right?”

Esme says “I think trying blood first makes sense. Either…blood or tears? But blood seems to make more sense, especially with what Amber learned“

“Yeah. Blood,” Amber eyes the roots around them as they wander among them, frowning to herself. “Fuck it. I’ll do something useful on this trip,” she says, bringing her hand up to her mouth to bite. Fangs and all. She holds it out to let the blood drip down fingertips into and on the roots.

Gabriel watches as Amber bites down on her hand, eyes shifting to follow the trail of her blood as it drips down over the dense mass sprawling across the ground, “This should be interesting.”

As the blood flows from someone fingertips onto the roots, the flowers begin to open wider, as if blooming, their petals seeming almost incorporeal like mist. Within the silver core, a golden liquid begins to bubble up.

As the blood flows from Amber’s fingertips onto the roots, the flowers begin to open wider, as if blooming, their petals seeming almost incorporeal like mist. Within the silver core, a golden liquid begins to bubble up.

Dovie’s eyes light up and she grabs a glass vial from Dovie’s backpack, beginning to collect the liquid. “Wonderful!” she says, excitedly, “Thank you, Amber!” She gazes between the other adventurers before adding. “Is anyone opposed if I… take one of these flowers back home? We could learn so, so much!”

Esme crouches down a little to get a closer look at the liquid and the flowers. She rises back up as Dovie starts her collection. “I don’t care.” But she’s looking over the roots again. “But, uh. Be careful. Just in case the vines have other opinions.”

Gabriel takes a couple of steps back from the vines, “Yeah, definitely be wary. If these decide to get angry that could end up being a pretty big problem. So take, but do so cautiously.”

Amber kind of zones out for a little bit, letting blood drip down and Dovie gather sap. After a moment, she shakes her head, “Woah, yeah… definitely still a lot of magic in the air here.”

Dovie nods at Esme and uses her hands to gently remove one of the flowers, the smallest one. “I suppose it was real after all,” she muses to the others. “More reasons to be careful of the bargains made…”

In the space of the time it takes for Dovie to loose one of the flowers, the blood dripped from Amber onto the roots begins to sizzle.

Finally, Dovie stands. “Are we ready then?” she asks, tucking away her newest specimen into her backpack.

As Dovie turns her back to the mass of roots, the sizzling exposes transluscent skin, with the opacity of the mist. There’s a wailing noise in the air.

Gabriel glances at the sizzling blood, eyeing it only for it to start shifting, “Get back from the roots!”

The roots begin to slither and move of their own accord behind Dovie, who is clueless and confused.

Esme tries to jump back away from the roots at Gabriel’s warning and spying the sizzling. “Oh fuck! Dovie watch out!” She brandishes her machete.

A root whips out towards Arachne and as the roots begin to move as a swarm, an unearthly wail fills the air as an incorporeal spirit rises from the ground.

“WATCH OUT!” Dovie screams.

The ghost wails, the air shakes.

“Let’s get the fuck out!” Dovie cries out, though the opportunity is too tempting, and she quickly grabs the other two flowers sans container before trying to hustle out!

Arachne struggles to keep the ghost within close proximity, barely managing catch it for a decisive blow, only for Dovie and Gabriel to finish it off. She leans forward, hands braced to the tops of her knees, struggling to catch her breath.

Gabriel nods quickly, agreeing entirely with Dovie, “Let’s go. That screaming had to draw some unwanted attention.”

“Anyone hurt?” Dovie asks as she starts to try to lead them out.

Esme groans as Dovie grabs the flowers, “You’re gonna get us killed.” She says, making sure Amber and Arachne are good , moving out. “I’m fine.”

Amber is a little behind, having been zoned out when bleeding on the roots. So she just tripped and faceplanted as the ghost manifested. She stayed down until the fight was over, and now she’s back to her feet and following Dovie out. “Just my pride, let’s go,” she answers.

“Science!” Dovie demands to Esme as they high tail out of the jungle, retracing their steps.

“It is her weakness. She truly cannot help herself,” Arachne says in aside to Dovie, tiredly trailing along.

Dovie nods at Arachne, a sweaty mess by the time they all make it back to where it all began.

Dovie pants, “I need a long, hot shower after that. Thank you everyone, I’m going to get this to the Concordat… and find these flowers some pots,” she decides.

Esme says “Looks like Gabe’s lagging behind“

Esme passes the bandages back to Dovie as well.

Dovie says “Everyone stay here.“