The Quirky Quandaries of Casting Spike Growth

 

As he lay there, contemplating the irony of his situation, Zaph couldn't help but wonder if the universe had a personal vendetta against him, or if it was just having a bit of a laugh. Given his current predicament, he was inclined to believe it was a bit of both.

In the universe’s grand scheme of 'Do's and 'Don’ts', casting a Spike Growth spell falls squarely into a category best described as 'Do... but with the caution of a cat walking around a puddle of water'. It’s a spell that makes florists and gardeners wince, and adventurers think twice about their choice of footwear.

Here we see Dave wondering why he's in the middle of spike city and the Grand Inquisitor is not?

In the grand cosmic theater, where the absurd often shakes hands with the profound, our intrepid adventurers found themselves in a rather peculiar conversation. They were chatting with Vlaakith the Lich Queen, who, as far as liches go, was surprisingly good at small talk. She had a knack for discussing the weather in various planes of existence and was particularly fond of commenting on the 'lovely, ashen skies' of the Shadowfell.

Vlaakith, with the casual air of someone asking for directions to the nearest tavern, requested our heroes to kill an entity trapped in an artifact. Now, artifacts in the world of Baldur's Gate aren't like your average mystical knick-knacks. They’re more like the sort of thing you’d avoid at a garage sale, even if they were free.

Our heroes, being seasoned adventurers and not easily swayed, responded with the kind of cautious skepticism one reserves for emails from deposed princes promising vast fortunes. They were aware that dealing with Lich Queens and mysterious artifacts was generally considered to be career-limiting, if not outright life-ending.

The prospect of entering the artifact brought to mind a host of potential issues, not least of which was the decor. One does not simply walk into a mystical artifact without considering the aesthetic implications. Would it be tastefully furnished? Or would it have the usual dreary lich motif of skulls and ominous glowing orbs?

Then there was the matter of meeting their Guardian face-to-face. Guardians, as everyone knows, are notoriously difficult to shop for, and the etiquette of such meetings was still a grey area. Should they bring a gift? Perhaps a nice potted plant or a selection of cheeses?

As they pondered these existential dilemmas, our heroes couldn't help but feel that the universe, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to add 'interior decorating' and 'cheese selection' to their already extensive list of adventuring skills. 

I think we went with the Cheese option!