Seilder and a few others escort a village out of their homes at the request of a dryad. It takes a bit of convincing, and lying, but they get the town to agree on the player’s better authority when Seilder says that a bulette mating swarm is headed their way.
The journey through the feywild is odd, with nothing appearing exactly as they might have supposed. A churning, slithering, massive tangle of giant roots cover the floor of the fey realm, the trees barren.
Leaving the forest they come to a gentle valley, going through it is a caravan of otherworldly creatures. Amongst them are elementals, fey and even demons.
They cross the path of the caravan and begin ascending the opposite side. With a view from the cliff they see what was the destination for the bizarre circus.
A throbbing tumor on the surface of the world. Teeth, eyes, tentacles and malice. Sorcery and war engines assault the boundaries of the pulsing and undulating unnatural growth. Where it dies, it regrows. It takes a constant, cycling effort by the strange allies, and still it seems to have minimal effect. The most efficacious is a pale, young women with a red violin. Strokes of her bow producing more than a haunting melody. Waves upon waves of dark sorcery flow from her deadly instrument and crash down below as she soars in smooth patterns on a black fog above the tumor. Where her power meets the tumor it dies, shrinks and turns to ash, only for tendrils to burst from the necrotic mass of flesh, and bulging pustules to burst new flesh over the wounds, swallowing the fruits of her labor whole.