‘You are freed from all cares brothers and sisters! All worries! All need to toil and labour for the baron’s taxes, in the guild’s fields and for the peddler’s wares! All the drink you could ever need!’
Final words of an extremely drunk hedge conjurer by name of Oates Greenlock.
A goddess with a holy object of veneration in every pocket, wallet and bank; as well as down the sides of the big comfy chair in the inn.
"A demonic plant? Don't be daft, go research something useful to society."
"But-but the p-plant! It's evil! It must be destroyed!"
"Now the flowers bloom all year round thanks to the most holy Spirit of Urban flora. It just takes a little blood."
A casual remark by one of the party about something met on a previous adventure leads to a summons to and grilling by the Mages' Guild (or equivalent), probably resulting in an expedition back to that area to recover the things for 'study' by the Guild. The party's presence will be 'requested' for this expedition.