[D&D] Dreadwood Tales

[Lurkinggherkin]

Dreadwood Tales

Setting: World of Greyhawk (with some divergences from canon)
Geographic Location: Dreadwood, Keoland, South-West Flanaess
Edition: 3.5 with a sprinkling of 3.0, PF1e and House Rules

Background

Camp Ragfried is an outpost established in the heart of the leafy Dreadwood in a former troll den, by a cadre of powerful adventurers who are famous heroes of the nation of Keoland; here, they station a select force of their respective followers and cohorts to explore the area and to provide assistance to the local elven nobles up at nearby Castle Briar, and the druids of Oaken Heart, to keep the depredations of regional menace “Dargon of the Crags” in check. Dargon is always hatching new mischief to keep our heroes busy. One day perhaps they will be ready to take the fight to him, but today is not that day…or is it?


Let's begin with a look at the party lineup:

Leguzh Leafcrusher: a somewhat atypical, rather charismatic half-ogre. A former galley slave on the ill-fated Stormbringer Juggernaut (a mad plan to attack the city of Gradsul with a seaborne invasion of giants - a previous adventure based on the DCC module of that name). He's handy in a fight because of his size and strength but actually, combat is not his primary focus; he is a Favoured Soul of the deity of sunlight and healing, Pelor, hence a divine spellcaster and at the moment, the party's main source of healing.

Tagline: "Hello friend. Be not afraid of my fearsome appearance, I am here to help, through the grace of Pelor."


Mellowtwig Hazelshade: a young Treant and one of the party's most solid melee combatants. A good way off reaching full maturity but still Large in size and though slow to anger, a bit terrifying in battle once he gets going. Sensibly avoids town now, though, since on the last visit to a human settlement, some mercenaries were paid by a rather nasty alchemist to try to chop him down because his wood held magical properties making it a valuable commodity!

Tagline: "This is some lovely soil, I think I'll put my roots down here for a while..." (yawns)


Vrashka: a Bugbear / Hobgoblin hybrid (homebrewed) who was recruited from a community of goblinoids who the party were initially at odds with. Vrashka leans more towards her Hobgoblin tendencies and is proudly conscious of her honour. She is a Duskblade (so essentially, a "gish" type build). These goblinoids had enjoyed peaceful relations with their woodland neighbours until their leadership became corrupted as part of the machinations of regional all-round bad guy "Dargon of the Crags". After the party put paid to Dargon's plans with a targeted strike against the chieftain (who had been replaced with one of Dargon's shapeshifting agents) the new chieftain of the tribe commanded Vrashka to go forth and restore their honour and good relations with others by helping the party in their endeavours. Vrashka can be a little uncompromising and hotheaded. She wields an unfeasibly large sword.

Tagline: "Come out and fight, coward! Your avoidance mocks me!"


Jinxsie Magwise: Jinxsie looks like a sweet and lovely elf lady for all intents and purposes, until she smiles revealing a mouthful of sharp, needle-like teeth...she is of the Fey, a Jaebrin Jester/Swashbuckler. Jinxsie comes from another forest a long way away; she is not quite sure how she got to the Dreadwood; she woke up here after a particularly wild revel involving some pixies, and decided to stick around. Jinxsie mainly adventures to stave off boredom. When not busy with her two blades, she cavorts, tumbles, dances and juggles. She is a little macabre though and character most likely to be offered a role in a Tim Burton film.

Tagline: "You have exquisite bone structure. Can I have your skull to play with when you've finished with it? I think it will be soon."


Caanan Barasweyn: Caanan is a Tiefling Rogue/Scout. He doesn't have the stereotypical horns, tail or cloven hooves his kind seem to so frequently present; but he does have other features marking him as distinctly inhuman. The frilled, pointed ears, violet-coloured skin and vestigial wings are something of a giveaway that his human mother's tastes may have run to the exotic (if indeed she had any idea of his father's true form or identity). A recent addition to the party, he's a little cagey about his past. He has the air of someone who came to the heart of the Dreadwood to hide from someone or something, and it might be something more than just crowds of small children throwing rocks or peasants waving pitchforks at him while making religious signs to ward off evil. Jinxsie met him in a bar and got talking with him because she thought he looked cool, which is how he joined the party.

Tagline: "No, they don't work. If they did do you think I'd still be stuck down here on the ground talking to the likes of you?"


Mordechai: Another recent addition to the party, Mordechai is a Gray Elf, and this makes him the most "normal" character in the party, in everyday D&D terms. He was sent to Camp Ragfried as an ambassador by the local elf lord, Gwairin Enderan. (Of course, this is ambassador spelt S-P-Y). Mordechai is a Druid / Wizard / Mystic Theurge, angling to become an Arcane Hierophant soon. Mordechai gives the impression of having a liking for comfortable surroundings, such as the surroundings of Castle Briar the seat of the elf lord who unfortunately sent him away to hang out with this bunch of strange losers. He has aristocratic tendencies and is plainly not the rough-and-rustic type of druid. Though he barely disguises his desire to be elsewhere than trawling around with this rag tag crew he takes his situation in fairly good spirits and is no less of a team player.

Tagline: "I have an idea. Well, quite a lot of them, really. One of us has to."


We've run Sessions 1 and 2 of the game so far. More on this will follow.

 

[Lurkinggherkin]

Dreadwood Tales, Sessions 1-2

Some Introductions

The scene opens, with Jinxsie Magwyse and Caanan Barasweyn on a forest trail heading due southwards. Jinxsie is an established member of the party, while Caanan is a newer recruit. The story that's been spun to introduce Caanan, is that he and Jinxsie ran into each other in a bar in Oaken Heart, when Jinxsie was in town to collect some supplies to take back to the party's base of Camp Ragfried. Jinxsie tends to draw the short straw for this task because outwardly, she appears to be an elf, and so attracts the least undue attention. The same cannot be said of Caanan, whose lilac skin and vestigial wings tend to provoke ungenerous reactions from small-minded folks. This is the Flanaess, where the Empire of Iuz lends the demon-spawned an ill reputation.

So, Caanan has accepted Jinxsie's invitation to come to the woods to meet some of her friends. On the trail, they encounter an ally of those who live at the camp, an Aranea called Yaknie. Caanan is introduced after Yaknie reveals her true nature, calling off her spider pets. Yaknie was present on the expedition that originally cleared out the caves that now serve as the party's residence, but tends to stay back guarding the camp when the party head out on expeditions.

While they chat amiably with Yaknie, trotting along the trail come two steeds - one a fine white elven horse, the other an actual unicorn. They bear two elven riders. The unicorn rider is Lady Belnoa Malphiriel, known to the party already as an emissary of the local High Elven sovereign of these woods. The other rider, is our second new player character, a grey elf known simply for now as Mordechai. He has been brought to introduce to Camp Ragfried as an ambassador for the elves. Belnoa leaves Mordechai in the company of Jinxsie, Caanan and Yaknie with a final warning to keep his wits about him. "Don't be fooled by the one who looks like a fair elven maiden - in truth, she is a wild, fey creature, to be respected but also treated with caution. And the winged creature - well, I have no idea what that is, but probably no less dangerous." With that, the somewhat judgmental Belnoa spurs her Unicorn to Dimension Door them both well away to a safe distance back along the trail before returning to Castle Briar, regional redoubt of the High Elves.

The three of them head down the trail, encountering along the way a tree that stretches, yawns and reveals itself as a young Treant. "Hi Mellowtwig. I have some new friends" says Jinxsie, providing the introductions.

The scene then switches to the meeting hall at Camp Ragfried, where they have arrived and met with the remaining two party members, the half-ogre Leguzh Leafcrusher, and Vrashka who is a Bugbear/Hobgoblin cross. It is a time of telling the tales of past adventures by the fireside. Jinxsie entertains with some juggling tricks.


A New Quest For The Party

Mordechai reveals that he has come bearing a request for aid from the Elfin Lord of Castle Briar. The party's stronghold of Camp Ragfried is within the lands he lays claim to, and is tolerated on condition that he can occasionally request assistance from them.

The tale is then told, of troubles in the woods in the vicinity of the gnomish village of Stonewood. The gnomes dwell under the elven Lord's protection, so he is requesting that the party goes to investigate. There have been incidents of travellers being waylaid on the trails to and from Stonewood, particularly around the northern fringes of the village. Survivors who escaped these ambushes tell of strange mists springing up all around, of bushes and trees grabbing at them in an entangling embrace, and strange ululating cries from shadowy, threatening figures in the mists. Some victims are evidently carried away by the ambushers, not to be seen again.

It has been a few months since the party last ventured forth on the Quest for the Fire Opal, and so they feel ready for another escapade. They stock up with provisions. Mordechai asks them if they happen to have a cart available, which they do, at least a small one. He decides this will suit his purposes, and shifts a feather mattress from one of the beds at Camp Ragfried - the best one he can find, of course - and rides in the back of the cart to "guard the provisions". Mordechai seems to be a creature who appreciates comfort and the finer things in life. Mellowtwig, who has a tree-mendous carrying capacity, is furnished with two barrels of mead that he carries in his upper branches. Jinxsie, whose weight Mellowtwig barely notices, sprawls across these, "guarding the alcohol supplies" on the way. She doesn't do a very good job of this, judging by the amount that has gone missing by the time they arrive. She does do a lot of singing, though.

They visit along the way, the hunter's village of Longbarrow, the elven trading post of Silverleaf, and just about make it to Stonewood by nightfall. There, the mayor of the village confirms the stories they have heard and mentions one of these ambushes has taken place recently. "We have a survivor, Alcorin, who will take you to the place where he and his fellow travellers were attacked, tomorrow."


The Investigation Begins

The next day the party set out with their guide. It is around an hour's trek northwards into the woods towards the place where Alcorin's party were ambushed.

As the party approaches the ambush point, Alcorin takes affright and holds back. Someone has to stay behind and guard him, and Vrashka draws the short straw. She grumbles about this intensely [Metagame note: staying behind to stand guard is uncharacteristic of Vrashka, but her player was not present and we have a policy of keeping the PCs of absent players out of danger in such situations].

The party discover evidence of a recent fight that has occurred; some gnome bodies lie next to an overturned cart near a river ford. Mordechai "reads" their clothes using his Gauntlets of Object Reading, learning that they are hunters who live here in the woods. The gnomes seem to have died from attacks with what appear to be a mix of bladed weapons that have left splinters in the wounds, and some wooden darts that look eerily like elongated, sharpened claw-like fingers have pierced their bodies.


A Dangerous Vision

Mellowtwig ambles forwards. He crosses the river and scans the trail ahead. Seeing nothing, he puts down his roots, and tries to call forth a vision of what has occurred in this area recently [this is a feat he has].

His vision is of the recent past...mists, and entanglement, and blood-curdling screams...twisted-faced humanoid figures looming in the mist...a weird ululating cry springs from their throats that shivers him to his core....

Suddenly, the vision is reality! An Entangle spell-effect goes off in the party's vicinity...and some humanoid figures lurch out of the forest towards them. They point their hands in the direction of the party and their fingers darken, harden and then are launched forth as darts. A barrage of these uncanny projectiles whizzes the party's way, inflicting a few minor scratches. They see the stumps of the creatures' fingers regrow as new digits, almost instantly, as they hove nearer. There is movement within the undergrowth as more of the assailants start coming at the party, seemingly able to pass unhindered through the densest vegetation. It is seen that these creatures have prominent, greenish-tinged veins protruding at the surface of their skins, pulsing weirdly. Their hair has the aspect of pine needles. As the first of them reaches Mellowtwig its hand morphs into a darkwood scimitar with which it swings at him.

Vrashka, leaving Alcorin behind at their temporary camp rushes forwards to join the fray [Vrashka's player is now present!].

The fight is a scrappy, chaotic one. Mists spring up in places separating party members from each others' field of view. The weird shrieking of the creatures as they attack puts even the hulking Leguzh in a panic. He drops his mace and frantically struggles to break free of the entangling vegetation. Mordechai is in less of a funk, but has also become entangled. He swears in elfish as he struggles to break free. Mellowtwig however is the party's bulwark against their frontal assault, and starts crushing them brutally with his wooden limbs. Caanan is also effective and springs back and forth dealing damage to the things with his magical sickle.

Vrashka fords the river at a different place to where much of the party are in a logjam, and rushes through the trees as fast as she can to try to get around behind the creatures or at least to tackle a later wave of them that is coming towards the party.

By now, the party have ascertained that these creatures are an unfamiliar form of undead.

Mordechai ends up fighting a defensive struggle as some of the creatures manage to swarm around the back of the party and attack from the rear. He is targeted with numerous darts (as he is not in the misty area) and is hit badly by a number of them. Jinxsie gives him some backup and in the nick of time as a couple of the creatures are moving in to threaten him with their darkwood scimitars, Caanan bounces back from the front lines to the rescue.

Leguzh, after breaking free of entanglement, spends much of the fight in the river, hiding in a panic, head peering just above the waterline and ducking down at any sign of danger.


Aftermath

Suddenly, the woods fall quiet again and it is all over. Vrashka, who cast Detect Magic after finishing off her opponents, thought she picked up some kind of magical aura in the thickly wooded area but it recedes rapidly. She suspects the presence of a druid or similar. She stomps off into the woods after it, shouting for it to come back and fight.

Mordechai examines the bodies of the undead creatures and takes a sample of the greenish ichor that floods their veins. He thinks it consists of pine sap and some other alchemical ingredients of sorts.

Alcorin, after some reassurances, is brought forwards. He examines the gnome bodies the party found earlier and recognises these as dwellers at a nearby hunting lodge, a father and son. No sign is found of his own travelling companions. Some of the undead creatures, though, were clearly gnomes in their living state, and Alcorin, sadly, recognises these as some of the earlier disparus.

"These hunters...they had more family, a mother and daughter, I pray to Garl Glittergold that they are still safe and well up at the hunting lodge, but fear the worst. We must proceed there as swiftly as possible!"

[This does not quite take us to the end of Session 2, but is a good break-point in the tale.]

 

[Lurkinggherkin]

Dreadwood Tales, Sessions 2-3

Due to various time pressures, I have not managed to keep reporting on the party's adventures apace with the sessions as I would wish. I will therefore offer a few succinct summary accounts of the sessions we've had until caught up. This one covers the tail end of Session 2 and takes us almost to the end of Session 3.

The party, guided by Alcorin, pressed further along the trail in search of the gnome hunting lodge, anxious for the safety of any surviving occupants. Upon arrival, they found signs of a recent struggle: a dead badger lay pierced by the darts of the strange undead creatures they had encountered before. The lodge had been ransacked, with signs of a struggle that seemed to have ended less violently; there were no bodies, and only a little blood had been spilled.

Leguzh, the half-ogre favoured soul, was hailed from the surrounding forest in Giantish by a female voice with an ogrish inflection he recognized. It was Elikohr, an Ogre Ranger, accompanied by Krazig, a male ogre barbarian. Elikohr produced a small wriggling figure from a tied sack that served as her backpack: a terrified gnome child, whom Alcorin recognized as Miphina, the hunters' daughter.

Elikohr explained that she had found the child hiding in the barn and decided to take her into captivity for her safety. Her tribe had maintained semi-cordial relations with the gnomes, having occasional dealings with those living in the forest to the north, such as these hunters. She emphasized that the attacks were not the doing of her people. The undead creatures, she said, were known as the "Brothers of the Pine," enemies of both gnomes and ogres. Their arrival had been threatened by Bemdroch, who had visited the ogre caves and urged them to join an alliance being forged by Dargon of the Crags, a regional menace whose lackeys the party had tangled with before. When their chieftain dismissed him, Bemdroch departed with threats that "The Brothers of the Pine will come for you."

Elikohr suggested that the party accompany her and Krazig to meet their chieftain, Vaturek, at the ogre caves. She proposed stopping for the night at a nearby farmstead run by an ogre couple from her tribe, as it would be difficult to reach the caves before nightfall when things would become more dangerous. Alcorin decided to return to Stonewood with Miphina for her safekeeping, praying for the party’s success in finding her mother, Arymin, before she could be turned into one of the dreadful creatures.

Hours later, after a trek through untracked forest, the party arrived at the ogre farmstead only to find it under attack by the Brothers of the Pine. Several dead goats lay in the pen, shot with darkwood darts, while the remaining goats panicked and tried to escape. Near the ogre lodgings, the male ogre farmer, Oruk, fought against an Entangle spell to wield his longspear against a hidden target, aided by his pet wolf, Jax. Other family members were penned into defensive positions by a combination of Entangle, Obscuring Mist, and Fear effects.

The party waded into the fight and, after a fierce struggle, defeated or routed the undead attackers. Vrashka used Detect Magic to search for a leader figure in the woods north of the farmstead. A keen-eyed ogre spotted a shadowy humanoid figure launching strikes against Oruk and his wife, Mizig, with a spiked chain. The assailant fled when the piney undead were defeated.

Together with their ogre allies, the party pursued the shadowy being, aided by the abilities of Jax and Elikohr. They almost cornered the figure, but it melted into the shadows and vanished. Various party members speculated about the creature’s identity. Jinxsie suggested it might be from a mysterious and legendary race called the Shadow Fey, though no legends associated them with the Brothers of the Pine.

Determining the farmstead was unsafe, the party decided to brave the darkening woods and reach the caves of Ogre Rock that night, helping the farmers herd their goats along. Despite the hurried journey, they reached the caves in deep twilight, thanks to the lingering summer sun.

Elikohr pleaded with her father, Chieftain Vaturek, at the cave entrance for the party to be accepted as guests. Vaturek eyed the motley group suspiciously, particularly the elves among them—Jinxsie, who often appeared elvish, and Mordechai, who actually was one—remembering old grievances against elves...

So, will Elikohr persuade her father to have her tribe play host to these strangers? How violently does Vaturek hate elves...and why? This and more will be revealed in the next installment.

 

[Lurkinggherkin]

Dreadwood Tales: Cartographic Interlude

Here is the map I made for the Dreadwood Tales adventure series. It details part of the Central Dreadwood region.



I talk some more about this map in my blog post on the subject, here. This is for the technicalities, I will discuss the geography and demography of the area sometime later.

 

[Lurkinggherkin]

Dreadwood Tales, Session 4: Dinner With The Ogres

Elikohr, an ogre ranger, led the party of adventurers to the entrance of the caves of Ogre Rock. Pleading with her father, Chief Vaturek, she sought permission for the party to enter the caves. Chief Vaturek, a cautious and suspicious elder, questioned each member of the party about their intentions. After each adventurer introduced themselves, they were allowed entry, one by one.

When it was the elven ambassador Mordechai's turn, Vaturek hesitated. He recounted a negative encounter with the elves of Castle Briar during his youth. As a young ogre, Vaturek had naively approached the castle, hoping to admire its architecture, only to be met with hostility and threats from the elves. He vowed then to deny entry to any elf who approached his tribe's caves.

Mordechai, who had been far from Castle Briar during those events, apologized on behalf of his kin. He condemned the elves' racist behavior and promised to address the issue upon his return to Castle Briar. He also pledged, in his role as ambassador, to secure permission for Chief Vaturek to tour the castle to make amends. His diplomatic skills and sincerity swayed the chief, who allowed Mordechai entry after extracting an oath that he would fulfill his promises.

Thus, the adventurers from Camp Ragfried were granted entry into the caves of Ogre Rock and joined the ogres in a communal feast. They had brought with them the slain goats from the nearby farm they had defended from the Brothers of the Pine; these were soon gutted, skinned, and roasted over a fire at the heart of the cave. The adventurers shared mead, while the ogres offered their own crude alcoholic brew.



Jinxsie entertained with a comedy act, much of it visual in nature, tumbling, juggling and mimicry and some sly digs at elven arrogance, earning roars of laughter and approval from the ogres. Chief Vaturek then shared a tale about Bemdroch, a devilish figure who had attempted to recruit the ogres into an alliance with Dargon of the Crags. Vaturek had refused, valuing his tribe's independence and disliking Bemdroch's tone. In response, Bemdroch incited a challenge to Vaturek's leadership from a sneaky ogre named Hoograg. As they fought, Bemdroch played a battle tune on a double flute, which paralyzed Vaturek. Driagulg, the wise ogre shamaness, realized the deceit and disrupted Bemdroch's concentration with a meaty backhanded slap, allowing Vaturek to recover and defeat Hoograg. Bemdroch and Hoograg fled, vowing revenge, and soon after, the Brothers of the Pine began harassing the ogres.

The party declared their intention to eliminate this menace, discussing Bemdroch's likely identity as a demon-spawned Tiefling. This led to a recount of their previous encounter with another Tiefling named Skryzzg, who was involved in an alliance with Dargon and had caused trouble during their earlier Quest for the Fire Opal, a few months back. Skryzzg had had lizardfolk mercenaries with her whom she was trying to convert to worship her patron goddess Tiamat. The adventurers had thwarted her plans and defeated a young red dragon in a ruined monastery, that Skryzzg had been raising, no doubt with wicked intent.

Leguzh recalled a letter found on another group of mercenaries, human ones, that they had tangled with and defeated in the town of Oaken Heart. The letter they carried had been written and signed by Skryzzg. Those mercenaries had tried to chop Mellowtwig down, while he was sleeping and rooted in the grounds of the Dragon’s Head Inn. They’d been paid to obtain some Treant wood by a dwarf alchemist in the Inn, which had probably been a case of random opportunism and greed, but by by coincidence it seemed that those mercs had also been working for this Skryzzg woman they'd later fought and put to the rout. Leguzh dug the crumpled parchment out of the bottom of his backpack, and they reviewed the letter.




The letter mentioned the Shalm Oracle, as the place the mercenaries had been ordered to report to. Driagulg explained that the Oracle, a sacred place to the human druidic sect known as the Brotherhood of Equals, was a day’s journey north of Ogre Rock. An old friend, Roughner Goblincrusher, had once escorted the Lovelow family to this Oracle; they'd met them, also, in the Dragon's Head when in Oaken Heart. Leguzh then realized in a horrible flash of recognition that one of the Brothers of the Pine they had recently laid to rest, had in fact been Matthias Lovelow; evidently, slain and re-animated. This now lead to concerns about what had happened to the rest of the family and to Roughner.

All signs now pointed to the Shalm Oracle as the source of the undead menace. Chief Vaturek agreed to send Elikohr and Krazig to assist the party. Additionally, a young ogre named Yiokag and a pet wolf named Tooth would accompany them.

The next day, the party set out with their new allies from Ogre Rock, heading toward the Shalm Oracle and the challenges that awaited them.

---

Note; the "gang of egg-shitters from the Hool" referred to in the letter, are the lizardfolk mercenaries that accompanied Skryzzg. It is a somewhat disparaging description. The Hool Marshes lie to the south of the Dreadwood and are home to the main populace of lizardfolk in the region.
After Skryzzg's defeat the surviving lizardfolk surrendered. The party accepted their surrender, and ultimately wound up recruiting them.

 

[Guvnor]

somewhat disparaging description

Lol, our love of understatement, caveating and mitigation shines through again!

 

[Lurkinggherkin]

Dreadwood Tales: The Saga Continues

I may have been quiescent in the Tavern these past few months - my workload ramps up dramatically in the Autumn and doesn't fall back until Christmas, so I have to ringfence my free time and prioritise; and actual gaming comes before talking or writing about gaming. Be assured though that the Dreadwood sub-campaign has been very much active, with sessions occurring regularly every two weeks and solidly attended. So I have a lot of catch-up to write about.

---

The party approached the Shalm Oracle, fully expecting trouble - and they weren't disappointed.

Mordecai sent his eagle familiar to do a little aerial scouting. The sharp-eyed creature then reported back with a warning that there were potentially hostile creatures it had seen lurking in the woods near a structure that it had taken to be the oracle shrine it had been sent to scout. Humanoid but not-human creatures, maybe a half-dozen. Some other, undead-looking creatures, probably more Pine Brothers, lurking to the north east of the shrine.

The party formulated a plan of attack, involving use of an illusion by Mordecai to bait the enemy into triggering whatever ambush they planned, then attacking them from the south when they were off-balance. This was successfully executed - though there turned out to be stiffer opposition than expected, as Mordecai's eagle had spotted no more than the top of the iceberg. In addition to some well-equipped, battle-hardened Orcs (the humanoids that had been spotted) and Pine Brothers, a Wyvvern also lurked under cover of some dense foliage, and a Troll was also active in the fight. The orcs wielded scimitars made of a greenish-black, glassy looking substance that had a malign aura about it. This substance was known to a few of the party from earlier encounters with the forces of he known as Dargon of the Crags; wyvverns and trolls, too were known to be amongst his malevolent hordes, thus confirming his fingerprints all over what was happening involving the Pine Brothers and the infiltration of the Shalm Oracle.

A stiff fight ensued outside the gate of the oracle shrine, and when the party breached that place they encountered a fresh menace - Ogre-sized Brothers of the Pine, who were distinctly tougher than the human and gnome-based counterparts the party had dealt with so far. And there was the tiefling Bemdroch who had so troubled the folk of Ogre Rock, initially posing as the wise Oracle seer but a disguise that he did not bother maintaining for long as these assailants were clearly forewarned of his presence. He was equipped with a double-flute of peculiar design, with which he attempted some enchantments on party members that promptly failed due to their non-humanoid heritage; he then engaged in melee and was a tough opponent, but the party had weight of numbers having by then dealt with most of the forces outside the shrine (the Wyvvern took some heavy damage and flew off with a couple of the orcs who decided that the fight had turned against them). Bemdroch realised that he could not hold against this determined assault and he made an escape by playing a peculiar-sounding melody on his weird flute, and then leaping into the sacred pool that was the centrepiece of the shrine - from whence, he did not re-emerge.

An attempt by Mellowtwig to trawl the pool for the escaped Bemdroch led to an accidental discovery - the pool appeared to be a portal to some "elsewhere". Wherever this elsewhere was, it was dark (though it was during the daytime at the shrine), and so Mellowtwig reported that the portal led to a cavern somewhere. The portal transported those who touched the bottom to the other side - Mellowtwig had managed to return by dropping to the bottom of the pool again and then hauling himself back up.

Mellowtwig decided to use his ability to summon forth from the land, visions of the past. He planted his roots in the ground. A succession of indistinct images flooded his mind. Impressions of many prisoners being pushed, unwillingly, into the pool, manhandled by shadowy beings. Those same unfortunates, re-emerging later in an unliving state, transformed into the Brothers of the Pine.

A fleeting glimpse, in his vision, of a captive he recognised, from having met him back in Oaken Heart in the Dragon's Head Inn - Leguzh and Jinxsie's old friend Roughner Goblincrusher. Had he met a simlar fate, and been transformed into an undead creature? The vision was unclear.

The party's ogre allies decided to send for more assistance from their folk back at Ogre Rock, so a messenger was despatched to carry word back to their chief Vaturek, of what had happened at the shrine.

The party's reserves being somewhat depleted at this point, they decided not to pursue Bemdroch through the portal immediately, but instead to make camp and rest up for the night to recover their spells.

Leguzh expressed concerns that something could emerge from the portal during the night to attack the party by surprise. He proposed that the party fell some trees and use them to fashion a cover to completely block the portal pool off. The pool being 50 feet square, meant that this would be a considerable task. This exposed some cracks in the party's motivations and values; Mellowtwig, not unsurprisingly, raised an angry objection at the idea of cutting down the trees of his beloved forest to build a temporary cover of a portal for one night only, on the off-chance that something might come through it. Leguzh, raised on the back streets of the city of Monmurg and lacking the deep empathic attachment to the forest that many of his comrades possessed, felt that this was entirely justified for the greater good. Jinxsie and Mordecai, one fey, the other an elven druid, backed Mellowtwig in this disagreement. Things got a little heated. Eventually, under protest, Leguzh backed down but muttered that he wouldn't be held responsible if assassins snuck out through the portal in the night and cut everyone's throats.

Fortunately, Leguzh's fears were not realised. The next day, reinforcements arrived from Ogre Rock. The party prepared new spells. The ogres elected to stay and guard the shrine - while the party decided they would enter, en masse, to take on whatever lay in store for them in this cavern Mellowtwig had reported seeing on the other side of the portal.

So, together, they jumped into the pool, swimming down to touch bottom...then up again.



But Mellowtwig's assessment that this portal led to a cavern somewhere, turned out to be wholly wrong...

 

[Lurkinggherkin]

Beyond the Dreadwood: The Shadowwood

Wherein the party learn that they are not in Kansas anymore...

Our heroes stumbled out of the portal pool, soaked and shivering, into a realm where light seemed a feeble memory. The air itself was heavy, oppressive, and filled with a clinging chill that seeped through armor and cloaks alike. Around them stretched a desolate landscape bathed in endless twilight, an uncanny and distorted reflection of the Shalm Oracle they had left behind.



The "sky" was no true sky but a patchwork of ever-shifting darkness. There was no sun, no moon, no stars—only fleeting patches of dim light that winked in and out of existence like dying embers. The shadows that sprawled across the ground moved unnaturally, lengthening and shrinking as though alive, cast by unseen and unsteady sources. Even for those blessed with darkvision, the gloom seemed to twist and writhe, rendering the world a maze of half-glimpsed shapes and lurking uncertainty.

The pool they emerged from now lay encircled by a ring of weathered standing stones. Beyond the stones, the landscape was a wasteland of jagged rock formations, leafless and twisted trees, and scattered patches of skeletal undergrowth. What had been summer’s verdant Dreadwood on the Material Plane was now an autumnal graveyard. Here, in this shadowy realm, the seasons themselves seemed leeched of vitality.

Their disorientation was short-lived. Shapes began to stir at the edges of the stone circle. Figures emerged from the restless shadows — gaunt and twisted forms, their movements unnervingly silent. The Brothers of the Pine, pale mockeries of their former selves, stepped forward with grim purpose. Their undead flesh sprouted the telltale wooden blades and dart-like protrusions, but their usual blood-curdling cries were absent. In this realm, they fought without sound, adding an eerie dread to their assault.

As the party prepared to meet the attack, Leguzh raised his hand to cast a spell of light, hoping to banish the shadows. The magic sputtered, then died, consumed by the all-pervading darkness. A sense of foreboding rippled through the group — this was not a place where light or life held sway.

The clash of combat broke the oppressive silence as shadowy orcs, their forms tinged with an unnatural sepia pallor, crept into view. These warriors, born of the shadows, moved with a predatory grace, their pale hides studded with bony growths that turned aside blades. One thing they did have in common with their counterparts in the Dreadwood, was that they wielded scimitars made of the black, glassy, blight material that threatened infection by a strange unnatural disease to those unlucky enough to receive a wound from these unholy blades. But the orcs struck first with nets and saps, seeking to capture rather than kill—a tactic that belied their savage nature.

The battle spiraled into chaos as volleys of projectiles — some physical, others shadowy bolts of intangible energy—rained down from unseen attackers hiding among the rocks. These incorporeal missiles didn’t kill but hammered flesh and spirit alike, threatening to leave their victims stunned and helpless. The purpose behind the assault became clear: they weren’t just hunting — they were trapping prey.

Then came Bemdroch. The tiefling druid-bard emerged from behind a monolithic stone, his cloven hooves crunching faintly against the brittle earth. His twisted horns gleamed faintly in the shifting light, and in his hands, he held his peculiar double-flute. As the strange, haunting melody spilled into the air, the shadows around him seemed to pulse in rhythm.

Vrashka, her eyes ablaze with fury, charged toward him, her blade ready to strike. But before she could close the distance, more enemies surged forward, swarming her with relentless intent. Bemdroch’s mocking smile faded as he melted back into the shadows, leaving the party to grapple with a foe that seemed endless, their own fatigue mounting in this alien realm where hope flickered faintly, like a distant star.

Mordecai, the party’s elven spellcaster, demonstrated his value yet again, weaving arcane magic into their desperate fight. His spells bolstered Mellowtwig, the adolescent treant, transforming him into a whirlwind of destruction. The Girallon’s Blessing endowed the young forest guardian with additional clawed limbs, turning his already formidable bulk into a terrifying blur of slashing fury. The sight of the four-armed treant tearing through their enemies caused even the relentless shadow-orcs to falter.

Meanwhile, Jinxsie and Caanan faced a creature unlike any they had encountered before—a shadow elemental summoned by their foes. Its form was an amorphous swirl of gloom, lashing out with frigid pseudopods that seemed to sap the very warmth from the air. The chill radiating from it was a physical force, gnawing at their endurance. Leguzh charged to their aid, his massive half-ogre frame and divine resolve compensating for his lesser skill in combat.

For a time, the battle hung in precarious balance. Blades clashed, spells flared, and the oppressive shadows pressed closer. But gradually, the tide turned in the adventurers’ favour. The sniping attacks from hidden enemies ceased, and the remaining Brothers of the Pine moved in to cover the retreat of their allies. Victory seemed within reach.

Mordecai, ever the scholar of strategy, deduced the location of one of the shadowy attackers who had lashed out at him with a spiked chain. With precision born of practice, he cast Glitterdust into the retreating figure’s path. Against the odds, the spell pierced the realm’s resistance to light and illuminated its target. A fey figure emerged, bathed in shimmering motes — a Shadar-Kai.

This shadow fey, with skin as pale as ash and eyes like voids, froze in his tracks. He was hairless, with the characteristic long, pointed ears of his kind, and clad in black, silken armor that seemed more an extension of shadow than a material garment. Slender chains adorned him, jangling faintly as he struggled to orient himself. Realizing he was surrounded and blinded, the Shadar-Kai raised his hands in surrender, his voice a melodic, lilting Sylvan:

“May I offer my congratulations and admiration for your prowess. Truly, you are formidable. I yield without resistance and pledge to be an amiable prisoner of war.”

His name was Vigelon. The party secured him, stripping him of his weapons and binding his hands. Even as they interrogated their captive, Mordecai and others scaled the jagged rocks to pursue the retreating attackers. In the distance, through the pall of shifting gloom, they spotted covered wagons drawn by shadow-steeds, the fleeing remnants of their foes.

Mordecai acted swiftly, casting Plant Growth at the far edge of his range. The sparse, wiry vegetation under the wagons erupted into a dense, thorny tangle, ensnaring the wheels and halting their flight. Though the shadowy drivers abandoned their cargo, cutting loose their spectral horses and vanishing into the gloom, the party reached the wagons to find a bittersweet prize.

One wagon stood empty, but the other contained three captives, bound and terrified. Two were human merchants, Grizien and Cedrine, who had been ambushed on their journey to the gnomish settlement of Stonewood. The third was a local gnomish woman, Arimyn, who revealed herself to be the mother of Miphina — the young gnome girl the party had previously rescued.

The adventurers resolved to return to the Dreadwood, repatriate the rescued prisoners, and regroup. But when they attempted to re-enter the portal pool, it became clear their escape route had been severed. The pool’s shimmering magic was gone, leaving only cold water and an unyielding stone bottom.

Vigelon, questioned under watchful eyes, confirmed their fears: the portal was not permanently open. It required a key — Bemdroch’s enchanted double-flute. With grim resolve, Leguzh declared, “Then we’re stuck here until we find Bemdroch, wring his scrawny Tiefling neck - no offence meant, Caanan - and take that flute.”

Scaling the highest of the jagged rocks, the adventurers surveyed their bleak surroundings. A mournful mockery of their beloved Dreadwood stretched out before them, its twisted, leafless trees perpetually locked in sepia twilight. Shadows shifted and danced without end, whispering promises of an eternal gloom where dawn and spring never came.

Though they had triumphed in battle, the party remained prisoners of the Plane of Shadow. To escape this forsaken realm and return to their sunlit world, they would need to outwit their cunning adversary Bemdroch, and wrest the key from his grasp....

 

[Lurkinggherkin]

Into the Shadowwoods

After another hiatus – and having stumbled across the finish line of another teaching term – Dreadwood’s back! Did you miss me? When workload rises postings and bloggings fall fallow as every ounce of spare time is devoted to the game. I can report that, in fact, the adventure I’m writing up here has finished (five weeks ago today). So, this is playing catch-up.



The party’s first act, after accepting the grim truth that they had been drawn into the Plane of Shadow, was to wring more answers from their defeated Shadar-Kai prisoner, Vigelon. Even in submission, the pallid warrior remained a coiled thing—his skin like ash-veined marble, eyes sunk deep and rimmed with violet shadow. His voice, when he spoke, was a dry whisper, like parchment brushing against stone.

He revealed what he knew: that he and his ilk served Nilvani the Gloomweaver, a Shadar-Kai of particular cunning and steeped in mastery of shadow-casting, who had conjured the monstrous Shadow Elemental that had threatened their lives with its chilling touch. Yet, despite her power and knowledge, Nilvani was not the one who had conceived the Brothers of the Pine.

That credit—or blame—belonged to another. The one who styled herself, Priscilla the Shadow Witch. Vigelon’s whispering of her name clung to their ears like a spider’s tread. Priscilla, it seemed, was no native to this tenebrous realm, but a creature born of both light and shadow. She held court in a place called Sunilouv, a place spoken of in hushes, for few who went there ever returned as they were. She had allied with the local Shadar-Kai warlord, Lord Ganderane of Fortress Bramble, Nilvani’s superior, and together they worked their grim design.

Bemdroch, the Tiefling—a familiar name—was said to be involved as well, though even Vigelon’s whispers turned wary at the mention of him. A cunning trafficker in both shadow and souls, Bemdroch’s loyalties remained as shifting as the gloom itself. All Vigelon could say of him, was that he came from the sunlit lands equipped with the strange flute that could open the way between the worlds, and, Vigelon had heard, he kept watch on the sunlit side of that portal, in lands he had never seen.

Vigelon himself had never seen Priscilla’s realm in Sunilouv, either. He had come straight from Fortress Bramble to the portal pool in the black glade, where the party had arrived, reporting directly to Nilvani on arrival. There, he had helped oversee the passage of captives—mortals dragged from the sunlit world, ushered through by black-wagon, and returned some time later… changed. Twisted. Turned into the Brothers of the Pine.

As the interrogation wound down, the party stood in silence, slowly piecing together a picture of this strange land. It was a place both alien and eerily familiar, where places from their own world had been hollowed out and reformed in shadow’s image. Fortress Bramble mirrored Castle Briar. Sunilouv stood where the town of Oaken Heart did in sunlit lands. Even Vrashka’s homeland, the Howling Caves, had its echo—here called the Screaming Caverns. The name alone was enough to chill the bones.

With no better plan, the party agreed to follow Vrashka’s proposal. They would seek these Screaming Caverns, threading their way through the woods to avoid the open roads and whatever might prowl them.

Mellowtwig made a sorrowful farewell to the awakened tree he had brought with him—too slow, too massive to follow them through this perilous terrain. He placed his barked hand upon the tree’s trunk and swore an oath to return for it. He would not abandon his charge to a world where sunny days and green leaves were forever a dream, or memory.

And so the party slipped into the Shadowwood.

---

An Encounter Along The Way

It was a place where colour had drowned beneath endless grey, where every living thing seemed stricken with the memory of life, rather than life itself. The trees were twisted like gnarled fingers clawing at a sunless sky. Their branches bore no leaves, only black veils of lichen that swayed in airless wind. The underbrush whispered as they passed, as if sighing secrets to itself. Sounds were muffled. Footsteps crunched not on twigs but brittle bones of long-dead things. Light existed only in suggestion—a wan glow that filtered through the oppressive gloom like the memory of sunlight seen through a dying man’s eyes.

Late in the day—though time itself felt tenuous here—a jagged peak rose before them, warped and cruel in its silhouette. A mocking mirror of Ogre Rock, a place of fond memory now tainted by its twisted reflection. They elected to gave it a wide berth, and press on south to the Screaming Caverns.

But as they moved past its western flank, something stirred in the underbrush. What stepped forward, when challenged was a troll—or something like a troll. Its skin was dull grey, mottled and cracked like old stone, but its stature was surprisingly small for a troll, and its bearing curiously intelligent. There was a sharp glint behind its heavy-lidded eyes.



It spoke. Polite. Wary. Hungry. It had been sent forth by its kin to patrol the perimeter of the lonely peak that was their home. It resented this duty as its brethren had food aplenty, which he feared they might devour leaving nothing for him. But this chance meeting with the party offered him something to report back on.

It invited them to its caves to partake of the feast. There, it said, they would find food and warmth, and its kin—who would welcome them.

Curiosity, or perhaps a gnawing hope that something here might prove to be an ally, led the party to follow. They ascended a broken path, until the cave mouth yawned open before them like a wound in the mountainside.

---

Having Friends For Dinner

Their way in was lit by strange, phosphorescent fungi, their pale light pulsing like heartbeats on the walls. Inside, it was warmer—but not comfortingly so. The troll and its three kin sat beside a weakly flickering fire that shed a pallid greenish radiance, gesturing for the party to sit. But there was unease in the air. The scent of roasted meat was cloying, coppery. And lying near the flames were many trussed and gagged goblins—skin dusk-toned, features familiar.

Vrashka stiffened. Though these goblinoids had a beshadowed nature, she recognised them as kindred.

Questions were warily asked—about Priscilla, about Bemdroch—and the troll-like creatures gave half-answers, evasive and dreamlike.

Then came the moment everything changed. One of the troll-things casually reached down, seized a bound goblin, and—as though the party weren’t even present—bit down. Its jaws cracked wide, impossibly so, and in a single wet snap, the goblin’s skull was sheared open. The screams of the dying goblin’s last moments echoed off the cavern walls, mingling with the sounds of chewing.

The illusion of civility shattered. As the dusky troll-like thing continued its grisly feast, wolfing down the rest of the goblin with frightening speed, weapons were drawn in outrage by Vrashka and her companions. War cries erupted; and the troll-things eagerly surged forward in response—as if to kill and eat the party had perhaps been their plan all along. An invitation to dinner, indeed.

But even as the party met them, two of the creatures continued to gorge on their hapless, struggling prisoners—and as they did, their bodies began to grow, skin stretching over thickening muscle, faces lengthening into monstrous snarls. From clever-eyed hunters, they became hulking brutes, not unlike the savage trolls of the sunlit world—but faster, meaner, stronger.

And they were still hungry. How much larger could these things grow, if given rein to devour yet more goblins?

The battle that followed was one of desperation, for these creatures, that the party had taken for mere trolls, were anything but. To the party’s dismay, Vrashka fell before the onslaught of one of the hulking things, blood pooling beneath her in the cold dirt. Leguzh barely remained standing, fighting on sheer stubborn will. Mellowtwig’s branches splintered and shattered under the savage claws of their enemies. Mordecai summoned creatures—that swarmed their foes and cast spell after spell until his voice grew hoarse, hastening the attacks of his comrades and summoned creatures so that they struck with the swiftness of snakes.

A dagger, thrown in haste, landed near the bound goblins. Hope glimmered. One made use of its sharp edges to sever their bonds, then another—one worked to free the rest, but the first of the escapees, whose name they later learned was Zelbeth, turned out to be a healer, and flung herself into the fray, casting hastily-muttered invocations of dark mercy to aid the party in their struggles.

The troll-things were hard to kill. But the party fought like cornered beasts. They knew if they ran and quit the field of battle, any remaining goblins, and their own fallen, would surely be torn apart and devoured in short order.

In the end, with blood and sweat and not a little luck, they prevailed.

The last troll collapsed in a heap of shredded sinew, its jaws slack, its belly distended with half-digested goblin flesh.



Breathing ragged, weapons dripping with gore, the party took stock. Vrashka was alive—barely. Nearly everyone else bore the marks of wounds and panted with exhaustion. Busying herself with healing those in most need and ensuring the wellbeing of her surviving kin was Zelbeth—a mirror, in some uncanny way, of Belzeth, the goblin healer from Vrashka’s home, who had once helped them to free her people from oppression. A shadow of a familiar kindness, flickering dimly in this realm of night.

Zelbeth reacted to the party with a mixture of awe, suspicion, and recognition.

“Shavrak!”

She stared at Vrashka as though she were seeing a ghost. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she clasped a hand to her mouth in reverence or horror.

“You... no, you cannot be. But you are. They call you, Vrashka? But you are her. You are Shavrak, in light made flesh.”

Zelbeth was clearly shaken. She began to pace in her agitation, muttering prayers to the twilight spirits.

---

Zelbeth's Tale

She and her fellow goblins were refugees who escaped from their ancestral home of the Screaming Caverns after the place was conquered by an invading force of Ratfolk from Fionerood, the settlement that lay south of this forbidding peak.

(The party guessed that this Fionerood of which she spoke, would correspond to the gnomish settlement of Stonewood back in their world).

“The ratfolk just inhabit that place, they didn't build it. The builders were said to be some kind of small folk like us but a bit different. Some say they were called 'gonks'. Wherever they went I don't know, it was deserted by them long ago and the ratfolk took over. It was in my grandfather's grandfather's time. The ratfolk've had the run of the place since and we've sometimes skirmished in the lands in between.

“Lately the Shadar-Kai took charge of the ratfolk. They're in league with some sorceress who's said to be a child of two worlds, one of darkness the other of light. She's set herself up in Sunilouv. They say she boils people alive in a great black cauldron that infuses them with forest magic even as it takes their lives.

“Then the Shadar-Kai and their Ratfolk Flunkies, and a good few of these undead things, these Pine Brothers conquered our caves. They killed our leader, Durrag, and our Bugbear Champion, 'Big Gronk' and his daughter, Shavrak - who your friend here Vrashka is like the ghost of come back for vengeance.

“Father and I escaped with a few of the faithful. The tribal witch doctor, Tarvurr, didn’t come with us ‘cos they were holding her brother Bringolb prisoner.

“As we searched for allies in the wilderness, we bumped into a patrolling Dusk Giant. Yeah, one of them that’s been munchin’ on our brains and bones, that’s what we call ‘em. We knew there was no love lost between these creatures and the Shadar-Kai, or the Ratfolk. I told my father he shouldn’t trust ‘em, but ‘gainst my advice he agreed to make an alliance with ‘em. But they betrayed us as we slept. An’ now my father breathes the air no more, food for those monsters... (sob)”

But Zelbeth thought Shavrak gone forever, and now felt that fate had brought Vrashka as a kind of revenant or prophesied echo; and regarded the rest of the party with subdued reverence, treating them as emissaries from a realm thought to be only legend among the shadow-goblins.

“The spirits of shadow don’t weave lightly. If you live and walk beneath a sky that is not this one... then our story is not yet ended and maybe there’s hope yet for us of the Screaming Caverns”

Zelbeth now saw Vrashka as a vital symbol—a chance to rally the scattered remnants of her people, perhaps even reclaim the Screaming Caverns from the Ratfolk and their dark masters. She appealed to Vrashka directly:

“You carry her blood, her rage. Help us strike them down. Help us take back our darkened halls. If you do... perhaps the spirits will let Shavrak rest.”

And Vrashka, in receipt of healing magics but still recovering from her many wounds, was not slow to respond; she affirmed that she was indeed intent on avenging her shadow-twin and freeing the Screaming Caverns, once more, from oppression.

“For I, and my companions, have already proven ourselves worthy of such a challenge! We freed our tribe from bondage vile in the world of sunlight, and now we have been sent by the gods to free our shadow-kin here in the world of eternal twilight. We shall not fail you, this I swear! And then, once we have freed our kin in the Screaming Caverns, we shall find this Shadow-Witch, this Priscilla, and put an end to her schemes!”

 

[Lurkinggherkin]

And so it came to pass.

The party spent another day proceeding south towards the Screaming Caverns, with their new shadow goblin allies. They skirted Fionerood, managing to evade a Ratfolk patrol that came close to discovering them. Atop a ridge overlooking the valley south of Fionerood, they sought out, and found a secret entryway that the party had exploited back in their own world when they went to liberate the Howling Cave Tribe from the agents of Dargon of the Crags. Their plan was for history to repeat itself...using the advantage of their prior knowledge of the caverns' analogue in the sunlit world.

The Howling Caves​

The account of their successful liberation of the Screaming Caverns from the Ratfolk of the shadow-world shall only be told in brief here. The caves were not exactly the same, but for all that they were a warped and twisted version of Vrashka's home, they were a similar enough echo that the party knew where they were going and where the likely ambush points where, where to head for to disable the command centres of the occupiers which were the same as had been in their own world. They set up a diversionary attack using a few of their shadow goblin allies near the cave entrance to draw off some of the enemy forces. Then, from their entry point in the mines, where they swiftly liberated chain gangs of shadow-goblins to join them in their fight with improvised weapons, they made a clean sweep of the Screaming Caverns. Compared to the fight against the grisly Dusk Giants, it was a cakewalk.

The Screaming Caverns​

At the end, they had the handful of Shadar-Kai commanders who had been left by Nilvani to oversee the occupation bottled in at the deepest redoubt of the caverns. The Shadar-Kai held hostages, including goblin elders, and children, and Bringolb the hobgoblin brother of the tribe's witch doctor, Tarvurr. Tarvurr was seemingly the analogue of Urtarr back their own world, who had mentored Vrashka in the ways of magic. Tarvurr was, as Zelbeth had been, shocked and awed to see this luminous revenant of their slain comrade Shavrak, come to free them from bondage.

Tarvurr the Witch Doctor​

The party, using their captive Shadar-Kai Vigelon, as a go-between, negotiated with the dug-in Shadar-Kai leaders, and agreed to an exchange: their goblin and hobgoblin prisoners for their freedom. The bargain was struck, and the humbled shadow fey made their way to the exit dragging with them a few of their captives, for security. True to their word - or perhaps simply feeling that the vindictive murder of these captives would not be worth the pursuit that would surely follow - they released their hostages as they departed, fleeing quickly into the shadowy forest. Vigelon, however, chose to stay. He had started to form a strange attachment to the party, and feared that having spent so long as a enemy captive now he might be executed as a spy if he returned.

And so now, in both worlds of light and shadow the Howling Caves and Screaming Caverns were liberated from their oppressors.

Planning of the party's next steps began almost immediately. Their next target : Sunilouv, the realm of Priscilla the Shadow Witch.

Tarvurr arched an eyebrow.

"One does not simply walk into Sunilouv..."

---

The party drew closer to the fire, its flickering un-light having already cast long, erratic shadows along the rough cavern walls. The silence hung between them—thick and uneasy—when Tarvurr, the witch doctor of the Screaming Caverns, began to speak.

"Sunilouv," she says, wearing a dark look on her proud hobgoblin features, "was once a prosperous human settlement, were the people still walked, talked, loved, and lived. It wasn't always like it is now. There was a time before... the Nightwalkers came. Terrible things, they were. Massive, looming shapes that blot out what little light there is here. They came from the deepest corners of this world, bringing with them an army of shadows and wraiths. They descended on Sunilouv like a plague, tearing the life from the townsfolk in ways you can't imagine. The wraiths...the shadows... they didn’t just kill. They consumed. They feasted. Not just on life force but on souls. You could hear the screams, see the terror in their eyes just before the light faded from them forever."

She paused then, her voice dropping to a lower register.

"The Nightwalkers—they didn’t only come for a slaughter in passing. No, they had a darker purpose. They took the city for themselves, as kings over the dead. The council was... replaced. One by one, the Nightwalkers appointed themselves the rulers of Sunilouv. Their reign wasn’t just of tyranny, but of despair. They didn’t need to chain the people—their very presence did that. They made sure no one could leave, and those who tried found themselves hunted, consumed by shadows in the night. The perimeter of the town was patrolled by their incorporeal thralls, and those who survived learned to keep their heads down, to endure."

Tarvurr looked into the fire, her eyes reflecting sepia shades of flickering twilight.

"For years, the people remained. Trapped. Every so often, the Nightwalkers took more victims—just enough to remind the survivors that resistance was futile. The rest were left to suffer. In time, even hope died. And then... without warning, the Nightwalkers disappeared. No one saw them go. One morning, they were simply gone, leaving behind a broken shell of a town and the phantoms of those who lived and died there."

Her gaze lifted again, scanning the party’s faces.

"The people of Sunilouv didn’t die, not all of them at least, but they may as well have. They had become little more than husks, their will broken, their spirit extinguished. It was as if even the hope of escape was dead, the memory of a better world snuffed out. The shadows left behind were worse than corpses—they were once the friends and family of those who survived, lingering phantoms that refuse to move on. They do not hunt the living like they once did. No... they’re... different now. They linger, hovering at the edges of their former lives. You can see them in the streets, pale and restless, as if waiting for something. Some say they’re still hungry, but they won’t harm those they once knew. Outsiders, though... outsiders are different."

She leaned forward, the firelight making a mask of her face.

"The shadows of Sunilouv may not hunt the living of the town, but you... You aren’t of this place. You’ll see them in the streets, the windows—watching, waiting. And if they decide you don’t belong... well, you might find yourself swallowed by that eternal twilight, and no one will hear you scream."

Tarvurr continued, her tone darkening further.

"It's said that Priscilla the Shadow Witch has some sway over the shades of Sunilouv, that she is able to command them into quiescence, and it is thus that she can open the way through the shadow haunted streets to permit her servants ingress and egress to her dungeons which lie beneath the old town hall which was the seat of the council and place where the Nightwalkers once dwelt. It may be that the shadows of the place mistake her for one of the Nightwalkers themselves due to her occupancy of that place, and thus she is able to fool them into obeisance. Her control does not seem to be absolute, or she would be sending them forth with her patrols, no doubt, using them as minions to serve her whims; but instead she seems merely able to placate them. It may be that she has some device in her dungeon that is able to calm them."

A muscle in Tarvurr’s jaw twitched.

"I had been preparing for a raid on Sunilouv, for some time, before Priscilla made her move against us first. I have prepared a number of scrolls of Hide From Undead. The protection is not guaranteed but will give a degree of safety, to penetrate as far as Priscilla's lair. I was originally hoping that our shaman would be joining us, who had some powers over undead, also, but it seems he became dinner for some dusk giants."