"Interesting. Any idea why she was cast out?"
«Nah, I keep myself to myself.»
"We appreciate your discretion," says Thom respectfully.
"How much longer now?"
«Not long now; we are in the boiling sea any minute now. You should keep your fingers inside the boat. It can get a little hot.»
It does take a little longer than he led you to believe, but not awfully long. The ferryman makes a sharp left hand turn, and the boat jibs, and all of a sudden the sea is boiling around the boat. Those with second sight (roll 9+) or similar powers get a little forewarning, as they see the regio boundary. The steam in the air is denser than the mist was, and cuts the visibility to less than half.
«Welcome to the boiling sea. Just a minute more, and you can set foot on the island.»
You are sure it is at least five minutes, but he does get boat onto a beach, and you can step out. The air is humid and hot, and the winter clothes you put on to face the mundane North Sea are no longer comfortable. In the distance you can see a tree, maybe a hundred paces away. What's beyond it is covered in mist or steam.
«OK?» asks the ferryman.
"Thank you, thank you. Will you be waiting here for our return trip? Or is there some other way to contact you?" asks Thom with a smile, wiping perspiration from his brow.
Turold steps onto the island... "I don't know what I was expecting, but I didn't expect summer." He says.
Cath'rinne checks the strength of the local magical aura. This is fatigueless so long as the aura is positive.
«I may be here, or I may not, but if you shout, I shall not be long,» says the ferryman. «Are you sure you do not want to take the other way back?»
When you approach the tree, you realise that it is not summer, or the tree is dead, but it looks only as if has shed its leaves for Winter. It feels more like a mid-Winter sauna.
The tree is not as far away as you thought, though, about fifty paces. The mist made it look further. The islands is roughly circular with the tree in the very centre.
Thom tilts his head quizzically.
"The other way back? What is that?"
Betula pays attention to the taste on her tongue that indicates the strength of the magic aura here. Then she approaches the tree, attempting to determine its type and age and other things from her knowledge of trees [Prof: Woodsman (identifying trees and wood)] despite its lack of leaves.
"I can attempt to commune with the Tree but I am at a loss of what to ask it," she says to the others.
«I don't know. I always go by sea, but it has to be somewhere since I almost never have return passengers.»
The aura is level five, for those who can sense it, and the tree is an oak. It looks ancient.
"That's good to know. And you said to get to the Island of the Eight, we walk around to the other side of the tree?" asks Thom.
«I am not sure which side, I never go that far from the sea, but most who come here go around the tree.»
Walks up to the tree and places her hand reverently on the ancient oak. Betula casts Converse with Plant and Trees [Penetration 9 if it matters]. "Hello grandfather Oak," she says hoping for some response.
[edited to increase Penetration due to Focus]
Thadeus examines the tree with his Comprehend Magic ability. (Total 19)
To Betula, it sounds as if the oak is snoring, but it wakes up when she speaks. «Euh ... hmm ... grmph ... what?» After a little while, it asks, surprised, «oh, did you speak to me?»
The tree is not magical, but Thadeus does see that it also exists in a deeper layer of the regio, where it is flowering at the hight of Summer. Footsteps become visible under his magical sight, going circles around the tree, countersunwise.
"Yes, hello Grandfather Oak, I am Betula. I have some questions if you don't mind," and she begins to ask her questions letting the Tree respond between each one, "How many winters since a walker such as myself has been here?"
"Can you tell me of the druids who come here?"
"There are footsteps going this way around the tree," relates Thadeus. "They probably indicate the way deeper into the regio, where the tree appears to be in flower."
"Hamish, hold my robe for me, please?" She waits, and will slip under as a vulture to change back into her human form inside.
«It has been ... hundreds ... hundreds of winters ... since ... I heard ... hu-uman ... feet .. on the ground.» The oak speaks annoyingly slow. «Some ... people lived here ... some .. in hiding ... around me. Then ... the people ... disappeared. A war ... maybe ... many died ... I think. I do not know ... it was not ... my war. People ... they do ... strange things ... so much ... anger ... and strife. Some fled ... I think ... maybe ... they died ... too.»
Betula quits concentrating on her spell. "Footsteps, around here you say?" and Betula takes a step around the tree concentrating on her mystical sight [Per + Second Sight 16]