Staying a while and listening to the wisdom of Barael the ancient druid, our heroes learn of his long lain-aside blade, from Barael's deep-memory dredged Elven song. The wild ranger Najáre triggers the ancient's memory, asking about what the Elder can tell them that would help them on their journey. Reaching through centuries of memory he sings an Elvish afterward to be translated by the Half-Elven warrior-maiden, Sif Amarth to the party as they trek through the woods:
forged by the crow-mage from shards of darkness
honed by the halfbreed to vorpal sharpness
behold!the bastard's blade
bane of the demon lord
slayer of the spider-priests
spiller of the silver blood
fragments of bone bringer of woe and weal
a warrior's hand and a Sage's mind to wield
killer of Lor, avenging those accursed
the Bastard's Blade, Hammer of The First
(This sword is so cool it has it's own theme Heavy Metal theme song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjmljShU3JM&feature=kp. I did change the lyrics just a little for our game version )
This Sylvan Scimitar, a legendary weapon of the Druids and ancient elves, should, if the song sings true, be crafted of the bone of a holy animal of the Green Faith from their remains. The blades are often constructed of bone or the horns of large elks. They can also be constructed of Wyroot, though in Andoran, some have been made of the indigenous Darkwood, which grows in the ancient forests of that nation. In any case the final shape of the weapon is enchanted with the Ironwood spell. It is also possible that with Barael's primordial Elven heritage though, that this artifact will contain storied and forgotten Tree Gold, called Cranor in the elven tongue. A material whose secrets have never been shared with non-elves in the history of Golarion.
The passage in the song about 'shards of darkness' may refer to Obsidian, a rare weapon-material that Druids, the caretakers of ancient lithic traditions still know the secrets of. This would explain how the weapon could be honed to a near or vorpal sharpness. Though the 'Shards of Darkness' in its creation may possibly have been ancient Smoke-steel, called Láên in the language of the Elementals. If this were true this would be a rare and valuable weapon indeed, as Smokesteel has not been seen in Avistan since the days of the Thassilonian Empire. The druids are known to be friendly to the elemental forces and could bargain for such otherworldly material.
Putting aside the suspicions about Barael's ancient blade though, while in the ancient's house, Quick Jim Barleycorn tastes and critiques his woodland stew that is served along with his pagan cakes and ale. Jim, an aficionado of stews of many cultures, offers to create for the old elf, a truly superlative stew and with Barael's blessing, crafts an astoundingly fantastic stew which is of such grandeur and subtle richness that it imparts additional health and well-being to all the heroes who partake of it. Barael is so transported to ancient memory of excellent Elven food that he recalls an ancient memory of Newlife Soup, an eldritch meal traditional among his people. He must travel back though in his ancient vault of memories to recall the art and craft of its creation, however. He promises Quick Jim that if he should return, he will gift him with some and teach him the way of its creation, a secret usually only shared among his people.
With bellies full and the warmth of good blessings and cheer buoying their spirits, the party sets off in to the wild woods, Barael's birch-bark map guiding them. They approach the first sacred glen of the Green Faith cautiously. creeping through the trees and scouting the clearing first for dangers. And their care is rewarded, they witness the attack of the terrible Assassin Vine guardian of the glen, seeing it wring the life out of a full-grown wolf as it dares to approach the ancient dolmen.
They form a plan, spotting a large overhanging branch that will allow then to creep through the forest canopy, over the vine-guarded altar of the Druids and retrieve the Breastplate of Sacred Fire, an artifact crafted of GreenWood, and fitted with straps and fasteners of Darkleaf Cloth, with a mystic fiery heart embedded in the center of the chest that glows and burns with a heat-less radiance, warming the heart and bolstering the morale of it's wearer and those who bask in its wearer's glow.
Belton flies low with his Angel's wings and witnesses the grasping hate of the guardian vine as it strives and curls into the air like a cobra, trying to grasp and crush him. He takes care to avoid its grasp and hovers near the sacrificial table, ready to assist his comrades. Najáre slips through the trees and races up the trunk of the elder oak who bough stretches over the altar, followed by Sif Amarth who, with the sure feet of a warrior bred to the mountain cliffs of the frozen lands of the Linnorm Kings, steps out onto the massive branch and readies ropes to help the She-cat dare the deadly table below.
Ever the clever jack, Quick Jim dowses a hempen rope from the party's gear with lamp-oil and casts it out among the vines whipping it back and forth and distracting the murderous plant with motion and weight. When the sylvan menace grasps and holds fast to the rope, Jim sets it alight and the fire races down it's length, terrifying the simple creature into releasing the rope, allowing Jim to wave it back and forth, clearing a path through the vine-threatened glen to the altar.
Najáre leaps like a panther down to the table-top and snatches up the mystic armor quick as a viper. Racing back up the rope assisted by Mighty Sif's hauling into the trees with speed. Thwarting the distracted guardian vine of the holy circle. The team reforms off in the woods away from the vines reach to view their reward, wondering at its strange and mystical materials and construction. Belton, a master of many languages, including Sylvan, the tongue of the natural wilds, soars back to the standing stones of the glen to read their inscriptions. He returns and reports the riddles contained thereon to his companions.
The inscriptions on the outside of the stones contain two riddles. The first riddle says, “Two miles toward the sun’s first fire, the earth’s embrace will still its ire.” This may refer to the Wand of Earth’s Ire.
The second riddle states, “A league to the south in sacred mother’s home, the royal water is returned to its own.” Possibly, this clue might lead to the Vial of Pure Water. A strange object of the panoply.
The inner faces of the monoliths hold three rhyming hints. The first declares, “Southeast four miles the image flies, atop forest giant in azure skies.” it is hard to guess at its true meaning but this may lead to the storied Codex of the Firmament.
The second says, “Lofty stone reaching higher, holds in its grasp the sacred fire.” This must be a reference to this very glen and the Breastplate of Sacred Fire which they have won.
Finally, the third states, “Six miles and some at forest’s heart, where name and namesake no longer part.” This could refer to the Spirit-Staff of Nárven, namesake symbol of his majesty's power. The map shows it at least twelve miles to the north.
After an appropriate rest and good meal. The brave band continues into the forest after the second piece of the Panoply, opting for the closest grove to the east as marked on Barael's Map. Where the Earth's embrace will still the things ire. Travelling through the forest they reach the region of the grove and carefully approach seeing a wholly different site centered around a sacred and time-haunted tree of prodigious size, ringed by stones raised in time-immemorial to the animistic and near-forgotten faiths of the first savage men who worshiped these places of natural beauty and power. Clearly, later Druids placed rough-hewn flagstones of the naturally-occurring shale of the Darkmoon Vale region where the great plateau splits the land not far to the south. Here too, lies an ancient stone table, partially sunken into the earth with the passage of eons and neglect. Once an altar for ancient rites and rituals, this naturally circular stone has been carved by subsequent cultures with words in Druidic referring to it's holy connection to the earth. The entire grove is overseen by what must be more recent sentinels, strange woman-shaped trees grown up from under and partially rooted into the pre-historic standing stone monoliths in the great trees shade. They bear unmistakably, the beauteous shapes of maidens in their growth.
A reconnoiter of the grove reveals that the backside of the tree has an opening down into the earth a large opening easily big enough for elves or men to enter with arm-room to spare. this bores between the massive roots of the sacred tree down into darkness and from the black embrace, a warning stench emits, that of deep earth and the rot of meat left dead.
Carefully the team approaches and the keen animal senses of Najáre the Huntress, discover the presence of bear-scent. This cave is the den of a bear, and a large and powerful one at that. The fearsome Grizzle Bear of the deep woods. A huge and deadly foe whose powerful claws can tear the limbs of warriors from their bodies, and whose powerful jaws can crush a skull right through a cured leather helmet as a man might crush a walnut. With wary trepidation the group descends into the deep.
An ancient chamber lies below the elder tree, a natural cave unhewn by mortal hands but worn pay the passage of countless rains. Dagger-like Stalagmites rise from the uneven, carcass-strewn floor. Threatening Stalagtites droop from the earth and stony ceiling, dripping with niterous waters and calcium dust. The sickly odor of mouldering, half-eaten creatures befouls the air, feeding the fertile downwash of the rains and giving rise to an unwholesome luminous lichen and mould that glows blue-green in the pale twilight of the forest gloom that filters down through the single opening in to this chamber.
At the farthest back-reaches of the chamber, a hand-dug alcove in the wall reveals an ornate wooden box in which a moldering pillow beard the indention of what was once a wand but now is empty air. The artifact is gone.
A shadow deepens the gloom as the group search the Den. The terrible Grizzly Bear has returned from foraging only to find a meal has come to him. Trespassing in his marked territory. The bear will not stand for this invasion. He will kill these interlopers and feed on their flesh as it cools for days to come.
Sif Amarth, a warrior bred to a land rife with dangerous bears and men who dare their claws and jaws often, races forward to do battle. On her heels, Najáre sprints into action her Tomahawk and saber seemingly leaping to her hands. Belton draws and fires his repeating crossbow in a flash and scores a hit, enraging the beast. Sif strikes true with her axe and brings round her Nordic shield to counter the monster's claws as the Huntress Najáre sweeps in around her and darts past the beasts' gard to employ her saber and axe with terrible, deadly efficiency, carving great gashes in the shoulders and neck of the bear.
Sif Amarth, a warrior bred to a land rife with dangerous bears and men who dare their claws and jaws often, races forward to do battle. On her heels, Najáre sprints into action her Tomahawk and saber seemingly leaping to her hands. Belton draws and fires his repeating crossbow in a flash and scores a hit, enraging the beast. Sif strikes true with her axe and brings round her Nordic shield to counter the monster's claws as the Huntress Najáre sweeps in around her and darts past the beasts' gard to employ her saber and axe with terrible, deadly efficiency, carving great gashes in the shoulders and neck of the bear.
Roaring in rage and pain the Grizzly lashes out in blind fury at Najáre and in a trice, bears her to the ground with deadly swipes from both of it's deadly, razor sharp claws and a crushing bite from its massive jaws that opens up the throat of the Huntress, splintering her clavicle and sending a stream of blood down her chest. She is born down to the rocky floor amid the debris and her consciousness is crushed out of her by the grabbing claws of the Bear. She swoons and gives up the fight, passing into coma and blessed, painless oblivion. Her breath raggedly growing fainter as moment pass.
The holy inquisitor, seeing he companion's distress, reaches forth with the power of his celestial heritage and stays her wounds. Stopping the flowing tide of her blood and perhaps, saving her very life with a bust of holy positive energy that weaves her flesh closed.
Quick Jim, creeping like a shadow through the darkness of the cave, readies himself to ambush the hulking monster and deal deadly blows with his steely knives to it's vital organs. Taking a moment to lure it forward into the darkness with a Shuriken cast into its thin-skinned face near it's eye.
Sif, undaunted and resilient in the face of the deadly predator, redoubles her efforts and swings with all of her might crashing her heavy, north-forged steel axe into the bears skull and neck, driving it down to the cave floor, dropping its dead and lifeless weight onto Najáre, bereft of the ability to fight on. She finishes the unconscious beast off with a few more quick blows of her axe and rolls the filthy bloodied corpse off of her friend.
Everyone gathers around fallen Najáre, anxious for her health. Her wonds are grim indeed and given by filthy, possible diseased claws. Belton summons up with faith and prays to blessed and gentle Desna, the holy maiden of starlight and waves of golden prannic light course from his hands, sealing the parted flesh and returning the flow of blood ot its rightful channels. Though even his blessings cannot return her ot full health. She needs safety and rest. plenty of good rest with hearty food to replenish her lost blood. They heroes carry their fallen comrade to the camp in the forest and lay her down to recover offering the meager succor that this wilderness can provide and standing sentinel over the camp ensuring her unmolested safety. The scent of blood travels far in the woods and many things seek it. Their vigilance is necessary.
