As we approached the temple that Corinna, the vintner's daughter, warned us of we came across an odd squirrel. Normally I’d dismiss this in a forest of this size, but I’m certainly familiar enough with the habits of the wildlife around here that I noted his behaviour as odd.
The creature was far too smart, using tools and rocks to crack open nuts and it was only after some cajoling that it transformed back into the form of a gnome, dirty and ragged, utilising the same druidic powers as my own to change his shape. When we tried to converse however, it was clear that madness had taken his thoughts and we got barely more out of him than in his animal form. Sadly, there was little more we could do for him without dragging him into more danger, so I left him some food and we continued on.
The temple was overgrown and as we entered several of the plants grabbed at our legs and tried to hold us in place, at one point pinning Helikaon to a pillar before he could hack himself free. Enchantments lay thick over this place as much as the greenery.
Within, the decaying shell held a statue to my father. It’s fitting, watching this place that was once a symbol of his power fall apart. His time will soon pass. A shield clutched in the stone hands reflects light down a shaft into some sort of chamber below.
Like him though, there are still unpleasant reminders of his reach. Creatures of slime and acid lunged at us from one of the pools within, forcing us to fight once more and as we descended the stairs statues of Gygans animated themselves and struck out at whoever passed without paying the proper respects to Sydon. Corinna held herself well during the battles, using a crossbow lent her by Alke.
It’s so like him. Fear him and pay tribute or be struck down. It’s like a child bullying those younger and less able to defend themselves for pocket change. The Oath of peace has ensured he has had five centuries through which he could not be challenged by an equal. Five centuries to plan and gather his strength against those who would stand against him as the oath comes to an end. Even Pythor, God of Battle, has been left to soak in wine rather than build his fitness and prepare for the dark times to come.
This is why it is important to restore the dragonlords. Someone needs to stand up to the casual brutality of Sydon and Lutheria. I certainly will.