A
letter from a wizard to another, or
alternatively: The uses of cursed
dryad
wood:
Dear Augustin,
Though we have not
talked since I sold you that sphinx that actually turned out to be a
castrated manticore, and it tried to eat you a couple of times, I
felt the need to take contact with you once more in the hopes that
you could find it in your heart to forgive me.
Hopefully the
information this letter provides will be useful to you and you`ll
avoid the mistakes I have done.
It all begun last
year around the summer solstice when a band of adventurers came from
the north carrying what they claimed was cursed dryad wood. Now, we
have discussed this before, but for the sake of refreshing your
memory as your specialty are cogs and not flora:
The dryad, aka the
living tree human, or the tree spirit, belongs to the group of Homo
Sylvus, or more specifically to the under group of Sylvus
Dryadis. When it reproduces it sends out pollen which then is
combined with any plants it encounter. If it is some sort of tree,
you will have another Sylvus Dryadis grow up within the
forest, but if happens to land in a flower, you will end up with a
pixie, Sylvus Fatae, (Though there is the occasional, but rare
one that lands within a carnivoreous flower and you end up with
Sylvus Muscipula).
In any case, my
research have found that though there are ways to make a dryad
cursed, there are one way in particular that seems to affect them:
The appearance of Sylvus Nidiformis. It can be best
described as a mushroom pixie, and it happens whenever dryad pollen
merges with a parasitic mushroom.
The end result is a
flying parasite that will attach itself to trees, preferably dryads
and then proceed to suck out the life-force from the dryad. As the
dryad is in no way capable of detecting the danger, it does not
notice it at first and instead tries to replace its waning life
force. As the parasite continues to grow on the dryads’ body, the
mental processes will deteriorate until the dryad is nothing but a
carnivorous tree that attempts to eat anything that comes close
enough. In addition the roots will tangle themselves to the roots of
any nearby tree and drain them of their life force as well. The
result is rather horrifying, and thus the idea of “curse”
appears.
These dryads are
however easy to spot by wandering adventurers as they are no longer
able to bloom, they attack without warning (normal dryads are usually
a bit more pacifistic in their approach and they get a appearance
that looks absolutely horrifying. This is not actually proven, but
the reports coming from adventurers seem to suggest that this is
true, those who survived this are.) Not to mention the areas of gray
forest that surrounds the dryad.
The local Sylvans
usually do not wish for foreigners to chop down their trees, but they
make an exception whenever this happens. Whether it is superstition
or experience, they do not want to come near an area where the
parasite has settled. Thus they usually call for adventurers and
promise gold and treasure.
Anyway, as I started
saying, at last year’s summer solstice adventurers appeared with a
big load of this “cursed” wood and as dryad wood has a good deal
of magic in it, I tried to make a bargain and bought some of it. I
was not the only one however, and soon the adventurers had sold all
they needed, counted their money and disappeared as quickly as they
had arrived.
Soon after, the
reports of this wood began popping up, and truth to be told, I was
not completely unscathed myself either. I got myself a couple of
books made from this material that I could write in. Now, I have
encountered books that SHOULD not be read, but this is the first time
I have encountered a book that does not WANT to be read. Opening the
covers of one takes two strong men and holding it down to be written
in requires a pair of metal blocks to hold the sides of it down.
Unfortunately as I
was writing my notes, one of the metal blocks slid off and the book
slammed shut around my hand, causing it to fracture in two places in
addition to breaking two of my fingers. It had even pierced my skin
several places as the book had apparently had decided to grow teeth
out of spite.
Nevertheless, I
decided to put the book issue to rest for then and instead opted to
take a nice breakfast at my new table, which unfortunately was made
out of the same material as the book. I had just poured myself a cup
of fine tea when the table suddenly kicked me in the shins, threw all
the content on its back onto the floor before it ran out the main
door not unlike the image of a horse galloping.
Though the worst
event was yet to come as I had forgotten I had ordered a chest to be
made of this stuff as well. It played nice until I put my robe in,
whereas it tried to slam its lid onto my fingers, before it chased my
around my room, slamming it’s lid open and shut like a maw
attempting to eat me.
Fortunately one of
my servants came in and saw what was going on, and with quite the
quick move, he grabbed an axe and cleaved the chest in two.
Unfortunately my robe couldn’t be saved as the chest had tried to
digest it somehow, making it all slimed and wet, whereas my servants
axe made some irreparable rifts.
With the chest all
hacked up, we tried to find another use for it, this time as
firewood. Unfortunately the fumes coming from the wood is highly
poisonous, but not deadly. Though I was in no condition to take notes
at the time, it seemed to cause muscle cramps, and vomiting which
lasted for several hours. A rather interesting side effect however is
the ability to glow in the dark. I did not appreciate it at the time
due to me having severe muscle cramps in my body, being unable to
move anywhere for at least two hours.
As my breakfast
table had ran away, and my man-eating chest had been burnt to ash (at
this point I was not sure what to do with the ash, so I just put it
in a lead covered box which was then melted down to prevent any
openings.), I was still stuck with a pair of living books which
attempted to chew out the remains of my library. Though the teeth
easily managed to carve their way through the other books in a way
that would make the most vicious cannibal proud, they had more
trouble with the bookshelf which is made of iron oak.
We managed at last
to capture them (though they put up quite the fight, much to the
dismay of my servants who now got sore fingers.) and bind them with
iron chains. As we can’t burn them, I decided to throw them out in
my yard, whereas one part of the chain is fixed to the book and the
other fix to a rather heavy rock. It is only a temporarily solution
until I find a better one, though at the moment they seem serve a
purpose at least: to scare away any beggars who come at my door.
I was not the only
one with trouble concerning the cursed dryad wood as reports soon
came in from the city. A few were concerning a galloping kitchen
table that ambushed wanderers at the roads, but I was not sure what
to do about that considering that it could even outrun the fastest
horse in the county.
Another report came
from old Stevenson who had a wardrobe made of the wood. He was quite
surprised when it not only ate his clothes, but also decided to eat
him as well. He had luck though as his daughter was nearby, and you
know how tough she can be (she was the one who castrated the
manticore I sold you.) Let’s say there wasn’t enough of that
wardrobe after she was finished with it to build a dice. Besides
being wet and confused, Stevenson recovered quite quickly afterwards.
A pattern seemed to
suggest that the bigger the collection of dryad wood, the more
trouble it made. For instance a couple of dice made out of the
material had a rather stubborn trait to always get results not
favorable to the owner, whereas forks had a tendency to stab their
owners. Well, attempt to at least, wooden forks aren’t the most
dangerous of weapons.
A scarecrow made out
of the wood would seem particularly effective against the crows as it
killed most of them on sight. Unfortunately it also harbored hatred
against local farmers as well and attempted to strangle poor Ms
Wilson son. Luckily it was not particularly well made and collapsed
upon the effort.
The worst is however
Captain Jack Blue who was to sail a ship made out of this wood. He
was not deterred at all by the insane creaking and howling of the
ship when he and his crew walked onboard one night. All that was left
of him and his crew was a pile of bones and his hat we found in the
morning. The ship had somehow eaten them, stripped them bare of their
flesh and somehow discarded whatever it didn’t like on the nearby
docks. I have no idea how it managed to do that, and I hope I will
never find out.
In any way Augustin,
if you ever happen to run across a bunch of adventurers who want to
sell you a load of cursed dryad wood, please don’t. It is way more
trouble than it is worth.
Also, you might want
to stay clear of any black ships without crew that howls when you
come near.
Your friend
(hopefully),
.-
Markus.
