The sounds of the forest become suddenly distant as the trees part, opening into a small, almost perfectly circular glade. The nearest stands of pine, eyln, and darkwood—all typically sturdy woods—twist away from the clearing, as if bent by some impossibly strong wind or seemingly in an attempt to flee despite their paralyzed roots. At the glade’s center squats an ugly cottage, little more than a pile of twigs, shoots, and ivy stacked upon mud walls. From the thatched roof dangle bundles of gnarled roots, old dried beast carcasses, and knucklebone bangles, all clattering together like gruesome wind chimes. A dozen small thatched fetishes—each shaped like a tiny man, imp, or rearing serpent—stand propped in the yard, keeping guard before a rickety plank door.
The heroes approach the small hut cautiously. Immediately, Surinder kicks down one of the small thatched fetishes to reassure his companions there is nothing to fear. There is an uneasy pause as everyone waits with dread that something horrible will happen. As their approach receives no resistance, Surinder again kicks, this time the rotting hut door shatters open.
Inside, the cottage is dank, reeking, and filled with shadows. Haphazardly hung shelves line the walls, covered in all manner of clay jugs, clouded bottles, strangely cut rocks, rotted bunches of herbs, and a museum of other crude curios and remnants of a bone grinder’s artifice. A rusted iron cauldron, with a mouth nearly 5 feet wide and a depth of at least 3 feet, dominates the hut’s single room, its ash-covered surface shaped with a relief of capering fiends and leering devils. Across from the door, against the far walls, stands a high-backed chair made of wicker, the gigantic curved tusks of some monstrous beast, and thousands of human teeth. In the chair sits what looks like a corpse wrapped in filthy burial linens, its form padded with pungent herbs and sprouting patches of thick white mold.
Surinder boldly marches inside a goes left while Br. Bjorn cautiously goes right. Eja is fixated by the figure in the chair opposite the door, she aims her bow at the figure and nervously waits for whatever horror haunts this cursed grove. Eilo stands behind Eja outside of the hunt facing the forest. The crafty rogue fears an attack from behind as they are focused on the hut.
Eja reminds Surinder and Br. Bjorn to look for the jar of pickled root called rat's tail. Br. Bjorn pears at the shelves on his side of the hut being very careful not to disturb anything, suddenly everyone is startled by Surinder ransacking his shelves nosily. Directly following Surinder’s clatter, the hut is filled with sound of iron bending as if by a great wind. The heroes look in all directions but there attention returns to Surinder when screams in shock and pain. To everyone’s amazement the rusted iron cauldron has come to life and is attacking Surinder. The “mouth” of the cauldron has become a sinister toothless maw that snaps open and shut.
Eilo rushes to Surinder’s aid and attempts to restrain the cauldron. Eilo, in his heroic zeal, accidentally places his hand too close to the cauldron’s mouth. The cauldron bites Eilo’s arm, flips him into the air, catches the hobbit in it’s open mouth, and swallows him whole! The others gasp as the cauldron continues it’s biting attacks, they can hear Eilo’s cry’s for help coming from inside the cauldron. Br. Bjorn rushes over and begins hammering the beastly cauldron with his warhammer. Surinder catches the jaws of the cauldron and with all his strength holds it open just wide enough for Eilo to leap free. Other then some bumps and bruises Eilo appears unharmed. Surinder screams an intelligibly in rage then madly hacks at the cauldron with his long sword. Eilo and Br Bjorn beat on the cauldron. Eja fires an arrow and it reflects off the rounded iron.
The cauldron is being dented by the heroes vicious attack but it doesn’t seem to be slowing down. Eja realizes this thing is some kind of guardian and runs over to the shelf to finish the search for the rat's tail root. A few moments of heated combat pass and Eja finds the jar. She quickly throws it and a couple of other items on the same shelf into her pack. Eja shouts of the clanging of battle, “I’ve found the DOOKIE we came for! Let’s get the hell out of here!” Eja bounds for the door. Eilo and Br Bjorn rush out after Eja. Surinder backs up to the door and continues to slash away at the cauldron with mindless fury. Eja calls out to him, “What are you doing? Let’s go!” Surinder shouts something back about destroying it. Eja is confused by Surinder’s obsession and implores him, “We have a long way to go! Every moment we waste more people die, perhaps our loved ones! That thing is not even alive, let’s just go!” Surinder comes to his senses when he thinks of Maggie, the voluptuous barmaid, he swore to save from the blackscour taint. He gives the cauldron a finally knock with his sword and races after the others that are almost to the tree line. They hear a crash as the cauldron breaks through the narrow door way in pursuit of the heroes. Terrified that the fight is not winnable, the heroes flee to the trees! Soon as they crossed the threshold of the glen, the cauldron stopped it’s pursuit and lazily waddled back into the hut.
The heroes rested after placing a comfortable distance between them and old witches hut. Other then the rat tail root Eja grabbed several items on the same shelf in her hurry. Inside her pack is a disgusting, shrunken head on a necklace size string, a pouch filled with tiny statuettes and rare stones and another pouch containing essential salts. After pondering over their hard earned oddities they decide to press on to the ancient ruins of the dwarven monastery.
Tags: Pathfinder D20 D&D
