We roused from our long rest, and reluctantly decided to storm the cellars of Owlbear Lodge to seek and destroy the source of the fungal contagion. Makeshift masks on, the magic-users—Jorad “Glass-staff” Luvien, Tegan “Sweet-tongue” Ramigil, and myself—descended through one hatch, while the fighters—Brick, Gunx, and Tolarin—went down another.
Cold and damp, the room was filled with a putrid stench. Contaminated meat lay uncovered on tables, and writhing fungal masses pulsated in a pair of wide pits. While Brick searched an adjacent storeroom, finding a journal and some blue flasks, the other cunts and I sought to destroy the mushrooms in the pits. Surprisingly, fire only made them grow, so instead they were bludgeoned and Hewn by Tolarin and Brick until obliterated. I called on Beshaba to Purify the consumable contents of the room, and finally all was well at Owlbear Lodge…
Except for Gunx, who had apparently fallen into the same spore-induced catatonic stupor that had afflicted Tolarin previously. Without another Vitality potion to use, we must needs seek other means to reviving our dragonborn companion. Surely, we could purchase the healing in Neverwinter, for a king’s ransom; however, we could pass through Thundertree first, to see if our old friend Reidoth might be of service. I suggest we strike a mutually beneficial arrangement with the Druid of Neverwinter Wood: if he agrees to cure Gunx, we may agree to let the dusty old bastard keep his fucking head!
Beshaba willing, we will find Reidoth in his ashy little hovel, and dear Gunx will be back to his old self soon, klaatu barada nikto amen.