Stan jerkishly removed the wand from his belt and tossed it to Roth. It wasn't anything fancy - it resembled a gnarled stick more than a mighty magic artifact.

Wasting little time after the elf snatched the wand from the air, Roth tapped the wand to his forehead as he had seen the mage do previously, but to no effect.  He twisted the stick around and examined it closely before trying once again, this time flicking it with some oomph.  The librarian blinks with some surprise as magic itself becomes visible, but quickly turns back to the remains of the bear, hoping to discover something of it's origins.

11:44, Today: Roth Daos rolled 29 using 1d20+10. Spellcraft.
11:37, Today: Roth Daos rolled 20 using 1d20+9. Attempt 2 DC 20.
11:37, Today: Roth Daos rolled 13 using 1d20+9. UMD Wand DC 20.

With the affects granted to him by Stan’s wand, Roth investigates Bear’s body.  It is mutilated and broken, but does not radiate any magical auras.  Aside from the few items carried by the others, the only new magical aura he sees is from his newly acquired dagger (from EoR’s hut).  He studies the aura for several moments, recognizing its signature as from the Transmutation school, and of moderate strength.  As he stares at the little blade, he feels waves of laziness wash over him, but not in a bad way.  He feels himself more interested a hearty plate of food and comfortable places to sleep.  He remembers that life had once been simpler, but that seems so long ago.  He longs for those days, with nothing to do except sleep in the sun.
A moment later he is able to break the stare and the feelings fade.

The party returns to rest, patiently waiting for the enchanted map to update itself.  At the appropriate time Shirok removes the map to see the area updated.  The band isn’t interested in returning to that fetid place; instead the druid taps his finger on the sircle (sic) twice.  Suddenly they find themselves back at the bonfire ring.  However, they find that Criss isn’t there.  Roth’s keen ears pick up a melody, being played by pipes, coming from over a nearby hill to the southeast.
The group moves toward the music to find Criss in a field of wildflowers, playing his song and chasing massive butterflies.  They move closer and Shirok hails him, drawing him from his game.
"Allo!" he greets the adventurers with a big, dopey smile and waving his hand over his head.  Seeing the man’s large and powerful hands make his stunted head appear much smaller by comparison; an odd sight indeed.  "Looks like rain!"
Just then the white puffy clouds begin to turn darker and a rumble can be heard far off in the distance.
"Ilsa, say 'tut-tut, looks like rain."

Could you tut-tut us a way out of this forest? Porto says already knowing the answer.

Ilsa responded to Criss's words with a scowl. She was trying very hard not to cut the boy-man-thing down where he stood. "If it rains, I'm taking those pipes and carving out his eyes with them," she grumbled to Shirok. It was clearly evident that her patience had come to an end. She had avoided trouble and made as nice as she could out for Shirok's sake, but she had her limits. The swamp, the lack of sleep, and the ambushes had worn her nerves raw. It would would take only the slightest provocation to set her off.

Shirok raised a hand placatingly, hoping to calm Ilsa for just a bit longer. With luck, they would soon be out of this place. He approached the boy, looking at him calmly. "We need you to take us to your home, Criss," he began. "To the heart of this place."

Criss’ face contorted in a mixed emotion of sadness and frustration at Ilsa’s refusal to play along.  A bright flash of lightning struck from the sky on the horizon as the druid groaned loudly.  He said something else, but the following thunderclap droned it out.
“You are no fun, Ilsa!”  She was lucky anger is a foreign concept to Criss.  But then Chubbs chimed in, thinking to return Criss’s words back at him.  But that only made the hunched man smile.  “You said the magic words!  Tut-tut!  Tut-tut, looks like rain!” he says as it begins to downpour.  The rainwater falls all over you, quickly soaking into your clothes.  The water is cold and strangely refreshing despite having just spent the night in a cold, wet bog.  The waters seem to energize you all and even close any residual, open wounds.
As quickly as the storm had begun, it passes.  The clouds dissipate and the twin suns shine brightly.  You feel its warm rays on your skin and feel comforted.  You will soon be dry.

Shirok speaks and draws Criss’ attention.
“You don’t want to go to the center,” he says, his voice having shifted to a fearful tone.  “Owl lives there.”  He points to the large tree visible over the canopy of the surrounding forest, the old and dilapidated house sitting complacently in its burrows.  As he looks upon the house, a thin smile appears on his face.  “Once Bear and Pig were visiting Owl.  A strong wind came and knocked the tree down.  Pig had to climb out and find me so that I could fix it.  I fixed it.  That’s Owl’s home.  My home is here, the Wood.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:11, Thu 19 Aug 2010.

"We are here to take care of things, Criss," Shirok responded after a moment, as the rain was pouring down around them. Neither he nor Neya seemed particularly affected by the sudden shower, letting the water fall upon them without motion or complaint. "How exactly did you fix things? Rabbit said the way to your home was closed off. Did you seal it?"

Neya whined a little with slight worry, and after a few moments poking around on the ground she approached Ilsa's side and nudged her slightly with her nose, a large stick clamped in her jaws. She looked at the orc questioningly, wagging her tail a little. Playing always cheered Ilsa up, and she was smelling very angry.

Roth was puzzled both by the lack of a magical aura about the bear and the strange effect the small dagger had on him.  But for the moment he embraced the feeling of laziness and tucked the dagger and wand into his belt before joining the others for a nice nap.

Upon finding Criss, Roth remained quiet, preferring to observe for the time being.  But after seeing Criss's control of the weather and his claim to have repaired the tree, Roth couldn't help but ask, "Criss ... did you fix the bear?"

Ilsa gripped her sword when the rains came. It washed the bear's blood from her face and hair. Deep red rivulets ran across and down the plates of her armor. She turned her head to the sky, as if to scream, but only drank of the fresh water falling. She rinsed her mouth and spat blood-tinted water. When the rain stopped, she wiped down her sword, staring at Criss.

Neya's nudging distracted her. Looking down, she contemplated for a moment before taking the stick and throwing it far. She honed her blade a few strokes waiting for Neya to return.

Stan reveled in the rain, thankful for the healing and refreshing magic that it offered. He even chased a giant butterfly for a bit through the downpour.

When the storm had passed he removed a brown-cloth package from his pack. Carefully, he unwrapped the spell book and began to flip through its pages, studying the arcane formulas and inviting them into his mind as living magic. He lingered on one page in particular, forcing the spell into his mind in three separate places.

After awhile, he carefully returned the book to his pack and returned to the others.

"Well, have we solved the great mystery?"

Porto let Shirok talk. He had enjoyed the rain and the drying sun even more. But when something good happened. Something really bad was around the corner for Porto.

Criss raises his finger as if to say something and make a point, but finds his self unable to define what it is he wishes to convey.  He hesitates for a moment, his mouth hanging open as if waiting for the right words to begin pouring out.  He is a powerful druid, but not a very skilled communicator.
“He and Bear are bound to this realm,” Rabbit’s voice can be heard by all before she is seen.  Her ghostly form becomes visible as she stands in the glade not far from Criss himself.  “As long as Criss is here, Bear will always watch over him, as we were tasked to do.  Criss alone holds the power to manipulate this Wood as he pleases.  Setting right a fallen tree is to him as a child with building blocks.”
“But he cannot deal with Owl or the Backson,” Hyglak interjects as he approaches the group from behind a nearby hill.  His sudden appearance and grime outlook strike a nerve in the ghostly Rabbit.  His armor is dirty and splattered with the familiar dark, oily substance that oozes from the strange creatures you have been fighting.
“He doesn’t know anger, or hate.  He loved Owl as he loves you, and Pig, and me.  And the Backson are of the Necromancer!  Would you pit a child against Him?”  Hyglak doesn’t respond, he only crosses his arms over his chest and returns the spirit’s stare.
“Criss did not seal the gate himself, but we were sealed inside.  Only Criss can break the seal if provided the proper key.  Such a key has never been made known to me,” she says looking back to Shirok.

"How did you die, Rabbit?"  Roth asked quickly before Shirok could even consider sharing his vision.  His suspicion was only based on a hunch, but something about the spirit didn't sit right with the seedy elf.  "Why have you not passed on, but we've seen no sign of Pig?"

Roth’s question causes Rabbit to hesitate.  Not as if she was hiding anything, but in a similar way of being asked how one was killed, a feeling only the dead can relate.  The rogue’s frankness also draws a nervous chuckle from Hyglak, the man’s sour expression becoming even more so.
“I don’t know,” she replies with equal forthrightness.  “I fell while defending Criss against Owl and the Backson.”  She pauses for a short while as if pondering the rogue’s perspective.  “If I were to guess, I would say that Criss allowed Pig’s soul to pass.  I am bound to he and Hyglak, and still carry on in many of my duties through death.”
“Okay!” Hyglak shouts angrily, “she’s dead!  Can we get beyond that?!  It’s not like I had just forgotten or anything…”

Whoa kitten, calm yourself down. Looking to Rabbit. You two uh... had a thing or somethin'. Porto says wondering why Hyglak was acting so bitchy.

Ilsa grumbled lowly to Shirok but didn't particularly care who overheard. "Is this getting us anywhere?"

"If I may add one more question: What did pig do around here? Was his passing detrimental to your mission here?"

“His name was Xanhast!” Hyglak snaps, his voice laced with irate undertones.  Seeing Stan’s initial reaction to his outburst, Hyglak takes a moment to gather himself, issuing another nervous chuckle.  “Criss would call him Pig because of his helmet which was fashioned to resemble a boar—his clan’s aspect.  He was a warrior like me, and a damned good one.  And he was my friend.”
As he speaks, it is becoming clearer as to his fractured mental state.  His tone jumps from one extreme to the other.  Living in this Wood, enchanted or not, with someone like Criss and the ghost of a former lover puts an enormous amount of stress on one’s psyche.  “His murder was just as detrimental to our mission as the death of any of us.  With fewer of us to protect Criss should the Necromancer gain access, I believe you see my point.  However, the fact that he was murdered by that bastard Owl... I would say that was quite detrimental.”
He stares down the members of the party.  Finally he speaks again.  “You are not getting anywhere, kid,” he says directly to Ilsa, sensing her mounting frustration and desire to be away from this place.  “You're wasting time and energy going about things your way.  You should stop and look around some.  Really take in the sights.  You’d be surprised, there’s more going on here then meets the eye.  There’s more going on is Criss’s—
“Hyglak,” Rabbit interrupts.  The fiery man stops in mid-sentence, ticking once more.
“Breakfast is on me then,” he sneers as he turns to leave.  “Raw vegetables and honey?”
“Oooee!  Me favorite!” Criss exclaims happily.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:12, Wed 25 Aug 2010.

"I'm sure there is. I. Just. Don't. Care." Ilsa said indignantly as Hyglak left. "Who do we have to kill to be done with this place?" she asked no one and everyone.

"I'm leaning towards all of them," Roth grumbles under his breath to Ilsa, but tries to sound more upbeat as he offers to the rest of the party, "But why don't we go check out ... Xanhast's place?"

"Oooo," Criss replies to Roth once Hyglak has gone beyond earshot.  "Pig."

O.K guys. We may think that trapping us here and forcing us to help them kill something that a giant ass bear, tiger, owl, boar I'm guessing, a slinky rabbit, and super powerful though lame druid, couldn't kill. Is a dick move. But maybe the only way out of this is to help them kill The Necromancer. Besides, Ilsa, you can't tell me showing up a forest of giant monsters. Porto says as he starts to think that helping would prove the best option.

"What about it?" Ilsa asked the halfling, thinking he might have missed the end of his sentence, perhaps scared to finish the thought. "Hey! Criss!" she shouted. "You want us to kill the Necromancer?"

Neya finally returned after finding the stick; it had landed under a tree, and she'd had a heck of a time figuring out which stick was the one Ilsa had thrown. But at last she returned, happily wagging her tail and nudging Ilsa once more.

"I am beginning to agree," Shirok added after a moment. "This is the world of a child perverted by darkness, and can only be a torment for those who are able to understand the situation they are in." He glanced at Criss briefly before returning his attention to Rabbit. "If the necromancer falls, then this place can be dissolved."