Chapter 29: Grandma Willow’s Garden

After the events of Coral Gate, I stop briefly at Montsilt to meet with Lavani and discuss the treaty between Coral Gate and Etonia. As you recall, Lavani is the mayor of Montsilt and somewhat of a sponsor. Afterwards, I head to Grandma Willow’s, Dragon Bones in tow.
 
When I present the dragon bones to Grandma Willow, her joy is palpable. It’s like watching a child on Christmas morning. She has me lay each bone out on the large table in the front, where everyone has stew. Then, she carefully packs each one in cloth and places them in crates or barrels in her bedroom in the back. There are other crates already there, a substantial collection of bones. She offers little explanation, only saying it’s time they came home and occasionally muttering about the mistake of trusting “that boy,” referring to Menk or Bartholomew or both. She keeps me busy that evening, setting up a bed for me in the corner of the workroom. The days continue with many projects, training, visits from Sophie, and then eventually the return to Etonia.
 
Later that evening, when I have some private time, I start reading the Tome of Leadership and Influence. I’ll explain more about that later.
 
Spending time with Grandma Willow is like peeling back the layers of an ancient, intricate tapestry. Her knowledge of nature goes beyond anything I have ever encountered, as if she lived through the rise and fall of entire civilizations. She speaks of Orcish empires and older realms with the familiarity of someone recalling yesterday’s events. Each day in her garden feels like stepping into a realm of forgotten lore and hidden truths.
 
One afternoon, while I’m tending to her garden, Grandma Willow calls out to me. “Temerity, I have a visitor for you. This is Sophie, a fellow druid.”
 
I turn to see a woman approaching cautiously, her demeanor suggesting she’s unsure of her welcome. There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t place it.
 
“Hello, Temerity,” she begins. “I know this might be unexpected, but we’ve met before, though you may not remember it clearly.”
 
I squint, trying to recall where I’ve seen her. The edges of a memory tug at my mind but remain frustratingly out of reach. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember meeting you. When was this?”
 
“At Thorngage Manor,” she explains. “I… I used a Mass Suggestion spell on you and your party. I was under a geas, forced to act against my will. Lavani cleared me of it.”
 
The mention of Thorngage Manor sends a shiver down my spine. The memory of the place is vague, shadowed by a sense of unease. I take a deep breath, trying to process her words. “A geas? You mean you were compelled to cast that spell on us?”
 
“Yes,” Sophie admits. “I’m deeply sorry for what happened. I didn’t have control over my actions. Lavani found out and freed me from it. I owe you an explanation and an apology.”
 
Sophie’s sincerity is palpable, but trust isn’t easily given, especially not after such a revelation. Still, I decide to listen. Grandma Willow gestures for us to sit, and she begins to weave her magic. The air around us shimmers as she casts a spell to lift the fog from my memories.
 
Grandma Willow’s magic is subtle yet powerful, often employing nature’s own energies to reveal hidden truths. As the spell takes hold, the haze over my memories begins to clear. I remember the manor, the feeling of being manipulated, and Sophie’s face as she cast the spell on us.
 
“At Thorngage Manor, I was compelled by a powerful geas placed on me by forces I didn’t understand at the time,” Sophie continues. “My actions weren’t my own. Lavani discovered the truth and used her magic to break the geas. I’ve been trying to atone for my actions ever since.”
 
“I remember now… You made us believe things that weren’t true, made us act against our better judgment. But if what you say is true, if you were under a geas, then… I suppose you were a victim too.”
 
“I was,” Sophie says softly. “And I’m here to make amends. I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I hope you can at least believe that I’m truly sorry.”
 
I study her face, searching for any signs of deceit. There are none. Her eyes hold a depth of regret that’s hard to fake. I sigh, letting some of my guard down. “I believe you. It’s going to take time to fully trust you, but I believe you.”
 
“Good,” Grandma Willow interjects. “Trust is earned, and Sophie is here to earn it. Now, Temerity, you have much to learn from both of us.”
 
With that, the conversation shifts. We speak of many things, from the intricacies of druidic magic to the mysteries of the soul. Sophie, now freed from her compulsion, becomes a source of knowledge and insight, though always shadowed by the past.
 
Under Grandma Willow's tutelage, I choose to focus on the intricacies of potions and stews. Grandma Willow’s mastery in these areas is unparalleled, and it makes sense to learn from the best. Despite herbalism often being overlooked in the adventuring life, the potential to craft potent healing brews and other concoctions cannot be ignored. Each task in the garden feels like it holds deeper layers, perhaps tests or lessons in disguise, preparing me for challenges yet to come.
 
I previously described Herbalism, or at least Herbalism Kits, to you earlier (see Session 11: Feldspar and Centipedes, and Session 15: The Spirit of the Forest is Under Attack). Of course, now Grandma Willow is having me stock my kit with stuff not common in most Herbalism Kits. I have spent a lot of time in my very short adventuring career working on flashy spells. It is good to spend some time working on the more utilitarian aspects of being a druid.
 
During this time, Grandma Willow would ramble on with stories. Sometimes, she would just start talking while I was in the garden, or at dinner, or wherever. A set of stories did have a common theme: Aspects of the Soul, which are the Kararua, the Karkarma, the Aniwaas, and the Ar-aria. She also talked about spirits of the land, the Kapre, Batibat, and Mananangal.
 
The Kapre, with its mischievous pranks, seems relatively benign compared to the Batibat and the Mananangal, creatures I would undoubtedly oppose if encountered. As she spoke of these spirits of the land, I couldn’t shake the feeling that these tales are more than mere stories—they feel like preludes to future encounters or tests of my readiness.
 
The Kapre is a large, tree-dwelling creature known for playing tricks on those who wander too close. It’s more of a nuisance than a threat unless provoked. The Batibat, on the other hand, is a nightmarish entity that sits on a sleeper’s chest, causing suffocation and horrific dreams. The Mananangal is perhaps the most terrifying, a vampiric creature that separates its torso from its lower body to fly in search of prey at night.
 
The lore of the four aspects of the soul fascinates me. Kararua, Karkarma, Aniwaas, and Araria—each aspect adds a new dimension to my understanding of existence. Could these concepts tie into the creatures Grandma Willow speaks of? Was there a connection between these souls and the spirits she described? The idea that a Karkarma could be stolen or that an Aniwaas represented a dreaming self opens up new lines of questioning. Could my wildfire spirit, Ember, embody one of these aspects? Was Vardai guided by an Araria? The questions are endless, and each answer seems to lead to another mystery.
 
Kararua is the first soul, the vital element of being, the part that only leaves the body after death as the last breath. Sometimes, it casts shadows or leaves voices in places it has been. Karkarma, the second soul, represents vigor or psyche, leaving in shock and being susceptible to theft by other spirits. Aniwaas, the third soul, is the version of you that exists in dreams, often considered like talking to yourself but with a separate entity responding. Araria, the fourth soul, exists only after death as ancestor spirits but can also imbue animals, objects, or act as spirit guides.
 
Grandma Willow’s references to Mr. Willow are a curious blend of fond memories and hopeful anticipation of his return. Theories spin in my mind: Was he under a curse, in a deep sleep, or traversing time in a way beyond my understanding? Each possibility is more fantastical than the last, but with Grandma Willow, nothing seems impossible.
 
Sophie’s tales of the Aarokocra and the Tawo paint a picture of a well-traveled negotiator. Her interactions with these diverse cultures hint at treaties and alliances that extend beyond our immediate concerns. Despite my lingering mistrust, I can’t deny her skills and the breadth of her experiences.
 
During the sabbatical, I tried to get some questions answered, whether from Sophie or Grandma Willow.
 
“Sophie, why was a geas placed on you at Thorngage Manor? What were you trying to protect or hide?”
 
Sophie’s face clouds with old memories. “I was Menk’s wife. He wanted to hide where he and Bartholomew had come from. And to keep me close. In some way, he couldn’t give me up. As time went on, Menk had me gathering components and people from distant lands. At some point, I found an adopted child, Gift of Dead Birds. Gift is a Tawo I found while waiting for a delivery that never arrived. I kept Gift hidden even under the geas. Gift is traveling with Fassad currently.”
 
I turn to Grandma Willow, “What happened to Mr. Willow? Why do you speak of him as if he might return?”
 
She sighs, her eyes distant. “It’s just an old woman’s fantasy,” she says initially, but later adds, “He was a hero. We were always resisting something, standing against the Demon. He believed something could always be done.”
 
“Sophie, how did your experiences with the Aarokocra and Tawo shape your understanding of our world? Did you negotiate any significant treaties or alliances with them?”
 
Sophie smiles. “They live in a different place, with a closer connection to nature. The Tawo journey across the land and know all the ancestors. The Aarokocra watch the balance of nature from above. They are remnants of something bigger. There weren’t treaties or alliances, but friendships, trust, and trades.”
 
“Grandma Willow, are the stories of the Kapre, Batibat, and Mananangal related to the four aspects of the soul you mentioned? How do these aspects influence our encounters with such spirits?”
 
“They are indeed ancestor spirits, Araria in some way, although some are malicious. Their demeanor often reflects their lives or the trauma to the land they reside in. They can be quite real but are touched by magic. Respect and offerings can influence encounters with them.”
 
“Can you tell me more about the Karkarma? How can it be stolen, and is there a way to retrieve it if lost?”
 
Grandma Willow’s expression turns serious. “One of the queens figured out how to steal them, using trades and debt to make it seem best to offer them freely. Some ancestor spirits can devour the Karkarma. But there is always a way to retrieve an aspect, sometimes bringing back the person who had been split.”
 
I said I would get back to the Tome of Leadership and Influence. I spend hours each day studying its contents and practicing its guidelines.
 
The Tome is filled with stories and lessons on leadership, from ancient kings and queens to modern-day leaders. Each chapter weaves tales of diplomacy, charisma, and the power of presence. As I read, I feel a subtle change within me, a growth in confidence and understanding of how to inspire and lead others. The magic of the Tome enhances my natural charisma, making me more persuasive and commanding.
 
By the end of the sixth day of reading the Tome, I feel a profound transformation. My understanding of leadership is deeper, and my ability to influence and charm others is significantly enhanced. Although the Tome loses its magic, its words still valuable but no longer enchanted.
 
Wow! The time at Grandma Willow’s passes by so quickly. With my new knowledge and skills, and the lessons learned from Grandma Willow and Sophie, I set off towards Etonia, ready to face whatever awaits me next. Off to Etonia, my fellow adventurers await.
 
 
• Thank you to George Sanders, his Anhult Campaign, and World Anvil.