Game Thread

After spending a bit more of the time in the tiny camp party agrees that they would most probably meed a druid if try to follow his tracks - and who knows, perhaps that druid could help them with navigation
It is easy to follow the tracks until they lead into the new forest, where person have been walking over the grass and moss - there are no tracks

"There isn't anything much on this place." Krynt declare plainly, after he hear the party's plan, he agree, "Im agree, let's get moving before we waste our time. In in front, i can't track if im not front."

Krynt take the front row, he follow the footprint where it leading to, while closer to near his party.

Here in the long grass Krynt can't find any more footprints but together with Garran they manage to find broken bush branch and other evidence of the direction where druid has gone until notice region where grass is cut - on the other side of the clearing a man is working with his sickle, cutting the grass so you can see young trees

Good day is all he say while keep working

"Who are you?" Krynt plainly ask the old man.

Sneezes from the smell of fresh cut grass in the air.

"Afternoon." Atticus clears his throat, attempting a slightly less nonchalant approach to the elderly gentleman, but he's not exactly a diplomat himself. "I understand your sort are quite fond of your solitude, and so we won't disturb you long. But we are passing through here looking for a place called threetree hill. I imagine someone such as yourself would be able to point us in the right direction?"

Man cuts Krynn a sharp, critical glance—the kind that silently warns a young man about how he ought to speak to his elders.
Brushing the slight aside, his focus shifts entirely onto Atticus, his weathered eyes locking onto him with absolute, undivided attention.

Slowly, the man rests the sickle against his knee, uncaps a worn waterskin, and takes a long, deliberate drink. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looks right at Atticus, and speaks in a raspy, measured voice:Three-Tree Hill? You sure about that name? Sounds like something out of a fairy tale.

Garran regards the druid thoughtfully. Could he be the archdruid Ocelot told them about before taking his leave of the group? He doesn’t seem particularly afraid of them. If he isn’t a powerful druid, then why on earth would he be living here alone in this bleak, mist-shrouded place?

Krynt look at the old man's glare, and take a silent. He know this is going to hard conversation, so he shouldn't take into this social talk, and stand there. Guess Krynt doesn't know how Manner works.

With a smile: We'd be glad to help you, if you can help us with directions. We can help with the grass or do a quest for you.

While Bartholomew and other talk diplomacy to the old man, Krynt look at what's the old man is working on with his sickle.

Atticus gives the old man a friendly- if slightly skeptical look, then glances down at the map in his hand.

"Mhm, 'fraid so. Three trees, specifically." He taps the map with one gloved finger. "Though, now that you mention it, it does seem a touch far fetched, doesn't it?"

He folds the map again.

"But... be that as it may, we've come all this way and that's where we're trying to get. If you've heard of a place that fits the description but under a different name, though, we'd be grateful for the correction."

Garran notices that druid were considering his words carefully before speaking - he seen many people do that before lying, but does it mean druid know the location - you can't know that, can't read his mind, your instincts suggest though that is is no archdruid, but rather one more druid who - just like Ocelot were called to take case of the forest


Old druid looks at the map and studies it carefully leaving an impression that he is trying to memorize what he sees

Never been.The river, though... that is easy. Find the landslide's edge.
he points North Follow east. It borders the water. River will lead you to bridge, jet journey is harder than road. As for the hill... The beasts see what I do not. Birds. Burrowers. May know of lone trees on high ground. But my back is old, and this grass must fall. Grab a blade. Help me cut. Then, I speak to the woods.

He taps the sickle against his leather boot, looking over his shoulder at the remaining thicket of tall grass. His eyes scan your group, narrowing as they linger on the chain mails of your armored companions. He shakes his head, a look of quiet disdain crossing his weathered face."Too much metal. Cold iron hurts the nature spirits. No cutting for you. He reaches back into his heavy canvas pack, pulling out a second, well-worn sickle with a smooth wooden handle. He holds it out toward Krynt and Atticus. "Take the sickle. Do it right and I speak to the woods."

Krynt has realized what's the old man doing - he clears the choking weeds and thick brush specifically around the bases of the young saplings, leaving them breathing room. He is intentionally freeing the trees so they aren't overwhelmed and strangled by the aggressive undergrowth

Krynt whisper to Atticus and no one else, not even the old man.

He whispered plainly "The druid cut the brushes, specifically around the little sapling.", he pointed at the little sapling. Then he warningly whispered, "do not hurt the little saplings."

He's waiting for the Party's decision.

"Ha-ha, get to work, boys," Garran laughs as Krynt and Atticus are each handed a sickle. "God forbid I should contaminate the soil with my chainmail."

Garran leans comfortably against a tree and lights a tobacco pipe. Hmm, isn’t the druid’s sickle made of iron? he wonders, looking at the druid.

After Krynt hear Garran's laughter, he move to the druid's place, taking the sickle (He don't bothered looking at the old man), and start hacking the brushes and move the brushes away from the little sapling like he was taking away from someone. Carefully not accidentally cut the sapling's branches.

With a smile and a chuckle, Saved again by my chainmail—this time not from physical injury, but from manual labor. Then pats his chainmail on his chest several times, takes a knee as he watches the others work, and blurts out jokingly at Krynt: You missed a spot!

Krynt raise a single eyebrow at Bartholomew, then continuing his work, very carefully.