The half-elf, Viktor

A deep wooden groan rises from the exposed hollow. Wet scraping answers it from within the trunk as pale roots press through the darkness, tightening the bark around the opening.

The mercenaries freeze below. Their broken ascent, the poisoned vapors, and now the tree itself seem to conspire against them as roots writhe across the torn bark.

The captain raises one gauntleted hand, halting his company. His weathered face turns toward the opening, eyes narrowed above the rust-red scarf.

Below, boots scrape backward through the vapor. The two stranded climbers cling to the trunk while the rest keep their blades ready, suddenly wary of what lives inside the wood.

The hollow contracts another inch. Something wet drags itself deeper within, and the exposed roots tremble around the passage like fingers guarding a wound.

Viktor fixes the captain and the wet movement within the hollow in turn. Earth answers, but his distrust divides the spell, while the tree’s rejection of his nature makes the roots recoil from his command.

Iron Will steadies his focus. A stone spike erupts from the ground, veering between two targets instead of striking either, and slams into the bark beneath the captain.

The impact throws the mercenary captain sideways and bursts the hollow wider. The creature inside, a mature, genderless thing with slick gray skin, a hunched silhouette, and a tooth-lined mouth, recoils deeper as splintered roots whip across the opening, blocking a clean second strike.

The Mercenary Company stumbles down through the poisonous vapor. The mercenary captain catches the trunk, shaken but upright, while the roots seal the upper half of the passage.

For one breath, the broken lower section reveals a narrow inner ledge descending behind the roots. It offers concealment and a path into the trunk, though the creature remains somewhere beyond it.

Viktor reaches through the tree again. Its roots recoil from his half-human touch, the Cursed of Nature turning kinship into resistance, while Untrusting focus splinters his command between bark and flesh.

Iron Will holds the spell together. The trunk constricts around the creature, but unevenly; roots buckle instead of closing, forcing the slick gray body deeper along the inner ledge rather than crushing it.

Viktor draws poisonous water into trembling bubbles and sends them through the vapor. They drift low among the retreating mercenaries, several bursting against cloaks and boots instead of entering their breath.

A few mercenaries stagger and cough as the poison clouds their senses, but the bubbles thin in the wind. The company breaks farther downhill, abandoning the tree’s exposed base.

Behind the roots, the creature claws along the narrow ledge, alive and trapped beyond the widened hollow. The tree settles, leaving the passage warped and difficult to enter.

Below, the mercenary captain drags his company into clearer air. Their retreat leaves no rope at the hollow, while poisoned bubbles cling to the lowest roots and slowly collapse.

Viktor drives a stone spike toward the trapped creature. Cursed Nature makes the roots recoil and twist, while Untrusting suspicion divides the aim between slick flesh and shifting bark.

Iron Will steadies the fractured spell, but the spike glances aside, punching through the ledge before the creature in the hollow can be impaled. The impact cracks open a lower fissure beneath the creature.

The creature scrambles into the fissure, leaving a slick gray hand briefly exposed. The failed strike reveals a narrow stone channel leading behind the root barrier, large enough to follow.

Viktor turns the earth beneath the retreating company into a pitfall. The ground folds down several meters, swallowing the mercenaries and their scattered footing.

The Mercenary Company drops into the fresh pit with a chorus of startled cries. Loose soil cushions their fall, though weapons and packs tumble after them.

Above, the pit blocks the company’s retreat and leaves them scrambling below the tree. Within the hollow, the cracked channel remains open, while the creature in the hollow disappears deeper into darkness.

Viktor gathers poisonous water into a chain of trembling bubbles. Cursed Nature makes the tree resist his touch, and Untrusting suspicion scatters the spell, but Iron Will draws the bubbles together and drives them into the pit.

The bubbles burst among the fallen mercenaries. Poison sinks into the churned earth and thickens the air, while men below cough, stagger, and claw for the pit walls through the spreading haze.

Viktor slips through the cracked channel behind the roots, following the creature into the trunk. The passage narrows around him, wet stone scraping his robe as darkness bends ahead.

He draws earth into a long, thin spike. The roots recoil from his half-human nature, Untrusting focus pulls the point toward every shifting sound, and Iron Will forces the aim straight.

The spike drives into the creature in the fissure and pins its slick gray body against the stone. Its limbs convulse once, then fall still in the cramped darkness.

Behind Viktor, the pit fills with poisonous mist and failing cries. Ahead, the trapped creature no longer moves, while the tree groans around the sealed channel.

Viktor descends into the pit and searches the scattered mercenaries, stripping weapons, leather armor, packs, coin, food, and tools from the silent company. A jagged buckle scrapes his forearm, leaving a thin line of blood.

His Survival keeps the search orderly despite Untrusting suspicion urging him to check every strap twice. Beneath a captain’s spare cloak, he finds a waxed scroll case and a water-stained book of forest routes and poisons.

The scroll bears cramped diagrams of protective wards, while the book’s useful passages concern venom extraction and antidotes. Viktor secures both in a dry inner pouch before the poisonous mist ruins them.

Cursed Nature makes the roots recoil as Viktor returns through the channel, forcing him to haul the dead creature’s slick body over stone instead of receiving the tree’s help.

Iron Will steadies him through the labor. He separates the remains with careful, practical cuts and carries them to his shelter, bruising his shoulder against the cramped trunk wall.

Study reveals no sign that eating the flesh would increase magical power. Instead, translucent glands hold a bitter resin that irritates skin and breath, promising a useful poison if safely prepared.

By dusk, the scavenged gear, scroll, book, and sealed creature samples rest inside the treehouse. Viktor’s arm throbs, but the shelter contains new knowledge and materials for future experiments.