"Its doesn't really understand language, so I doubt whatever either of you said makes a difference," The elf points out in a snooty tone, clearly unimpressed with either of their attempts and finding this conversation pointless as they followed the Mound from a distance.<br/><br/>Following away from the tree they emerged from, it leads them across towards the vineyard itself, rows upon rows of grapes growing in the rich, volcanic soil, awaiting the days when they will be picked and made into fine Frostspear Wine to be sold all over Izsia.  Off in the distance, Frostspear Manor stands tall, a white stone home of three stories and a multitude of rooms, a mansion that could house dozens.<br/><br/><strong>DM: If either of you would like, you may roll a History check to see what you know of Frostspear manor</strong><br/><br/>Moss notices that the supposed 'fruit eating' monster passes by these grapes without a single look towards them.  They are plump and rich in color, obviously about right for the picking and juicy on the inside.  Anyone would be tempted to partake of these perfect grapes and their burst of flavor biting into the tender skin.  Instead the Mound seems pretty set on where its heading, making some sort of gravely sounding as well as the drag of leaves and sticks from its rotten roughage body.  It leads all of you past the vineyard and towards the beaches that lie beyond.<br/><br/>There is becomes readily apparent that something is not right here.  There are dark tendrils running through the sand, some sort of dark energy streaking forward from the ocean.  A shark washes up on the shore, obviously dead from whatever dark magic is at play here.  The Mound shambles over to the shark corpse in its namesake manner, beginning to consume the fresh meat.<br/><br/><strong>DM: Roll a nature check on Shambling Mounds, either or both of you</strong>