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BG: Fletchwind

Beyond the cabin’s walls, at the edge of the forest. A giant black spider steps into open. Then silently directs her spawn with precise movements of her forelegs. Two sleek hunters peel away from its shadow, ascending into the field with predatory grace. Evading the traps laid -they split into separate directions – one takes the south window, the other unknown. It presses its dark body flat against the glass like living shadows. Eight eyes on each glitter in the twilight, watching, waiting.

Though Síofra follows Malachi, the tome in Sweeney’s hands catches her attention. She lingers behind, observing his search for relevant texts or pictures.

Amazement mixed with uncertainty crossed his face as Sweeney begins frantically flicking through the pages, hoping to glean any useful information.

“One moment - One moment.... it looks familiar...”

Rem turns to Sweeny, and whispers.

Who is this?

After the gem shatters, the tips of Rem’s ears dipped down a little, they really liked that gem.

As the flash fades and your vision slowly returns, the scattered shards of the gem are almost all gone but one. Here perches something impossible – a raven of midnight-black feathers, but with three eyes gleaming like polished obsidian. The creature surveys everyone in the room with an unnervingly intelligent gaze. Its head tilts at an almost mechanical angle.

The temperature plummets without warning. A preternatural frost creeps through the room, seeping past flesh and muscle to settle deep in your bones. The gem’s surface begins to fracture – first a spiderweb of tiny lines, then deeper fissures from which pale smoke coils like searching tendrils. The tension builds until, with a sound like shattering crystal, the gem explodes in a piercing crescendo that seems to tear through reality itself, with a blinding flash of light.

Sweeney begins to whisper incantations from ages past, his voice carrying ancient power that seems to ripple through the air. The leaves and bark that form his moss-covered form begin to sway in an otherworldly dance, as if stirred by an unseen wind. His gnarled fingers grips the tuning fork; traces in deliberate circles upon the gem, and with each pass, runes ignite like distant stars.

(Everyone can respond now!)

(Not seen by Character but read as players)

During your time before the adventure - at local market and through jolly banter - you’ve gain some insight from skilled beast hunters. They produce specialized repellent compounds by studying a target creature’s natural habitat and carefully mixing relevant environmental elements and put into a weapon or container of choice. This creates a repellent effect that can induce confusion or can even calm certain creatures depending on the mix.

You don’t know much about the tuning fork, but you’ve seen these orbs before ... they are like Puff ball bombs.

(This is distances from where the characters are - only you as readers know.)

“Order of the nine?”

“Peace?”

He approaches the cabin’s doorstep, you watch him drop a large, black spider leg beside the door. He raises his hands over the warding circle, murmuring an incantation under his breath, then breaks the ward. Opening the door and walks in. There is few moments of silence before it breaks.

“Well, are you coming in?”

He eased his draw, lowering the bow and smoothly flipping it over his shoulder, the arrow still held firmly in his other hand and uses it to point at

“So, what brings you into the woods?”

“First - you eat, then tell me your story”

“Oh.”

Then with earthenware cloche lid in the other hand, places it on top. Hovering his hands above - capturing a quiet anticipation, and then, a sharp clap reverberates through the air.

A few seconds later, the rich aroma of roast wafts toward you. As he lifts the lid, a mouthwatering display of roasted pork and duck, golden potatoes, and fresh leafy greens is revealed. He repeats this ritual with each plate around the table, bringing each one to life with a feast.

You see Sweeny, move towards the bookshelf and picking out a leather bound book; dusty and old. He beings flicks through pages.

“This is the one.”

“Your left foot, there is a loose plank - fetch me the item in that hidden nook.”

“I’ve only read about these crystals—I thought they had all vanished from this place.”

“They hold the spirits of some denizens of this forest.”

Where.... Where did you get this??

He fixes his eyes with an intense stare - looking at Rem You see his mood shift once again.

When the witch Anglwyst died, her final spell went wild. A cursed disease that consumes everything—trees, creatures, life itself. And me? Bound by our ancient pact, I cannot cross beyond this line to stop it.

His hand clenches, leaves rustling with his anger

Not only did they leave me, they ransacked my home. Stripped it for its valuables; scrolls, talismans, the very tools I need to fight the Withering.

Now this magical plague that now spreads through my forest like a festering wound. I was only left with what you see.

Listen well. The last band of so-called adventurers—led by that treacherous boar-folk man — they abandoned me. I asked for Aid to travel to the source of the Withering but we were ambushed by spiders in the deep grove, and when I fell, they left me for dead. But I survived after breaking free from the black webs.

A mood shifts, as he recollects his thoughts. Sweeny leans forward, his bark-like skin weathered and his eyes burning with a mix of desperation and rage

“I am The Champion of the woods, Sweeny. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier...”

Rem is interested in what’s happening, and hopes the shiny rock doesn’t break or get damaged.

Sweeny motions toward the table with a firm yet inviting gesture to you all.

“Place the gem and fork here,” he instructs, his eyes glinting with focused intent.

“So are the remains of the work of the old custodians — toad-folk. Now, let’s see if this crystal can still be awakened.”

Rem remembers that this started when they offered that fruit to the statue. Seeing this glow around Sweeny makes Rem trust them more.

As you watch Sweeny, the sensation washes over you again—the white flash. Your vision blurs slightly, and the room shimmers faintly at the edges, like the world itself is holding its breath. Keeping your eyes on Sweeny, you notice something extraordinary: a dim glow surrounds him, a soft green haze tinged with the warmth of summer orange. The aura pulses gently, almost in sync with the rhythm of his heartbeat. And then, in an instant, the glow fades, and your vision snaps back to normal.

“Yeah, it was stuck in some amber pool. um... that way?”

A tuning fork, crafted from twisted gnarled branches. The wood is polished smooth, yet retains its natural knots and grooves, giving it a rustic, organic feel. Tiny runes or sigils, carved or burned into the surface, spiral down its handle. At the base, a cluster of small leaves or moss remains alive, lending an earthy fragrance.

Tightly woven orb crafted from forest detritus These orbs are tiny, size of a small apple. As you hold it, you notice a aromatic smell of herbs; like citronella or eucalyptus, mixture of deep earth and sour berries.

You lift the wood loose plank. It reveals a few items in this small nook:

> Switching back to the Sweeny’s Cabin

As reminder for the game, this triggers if you stay in space for too long. I roll a D6, and adjust the scenario as needed.

“The forest edge seemed to shiver under the dim light of dusk, as a shadow detached itself from the gloom. A massive black spider, its body glistening like wet onyx, skittered soundlessly toward the cabin. The brittle crunch of leaves beneath its legs was the only sound breaking the stillness, as if the world held its breath, watching.”

Dungeon event: 2

Rem is listening very closely to Sweeny’s words

“Travelers have been roaming near these parts. To the north. Not friendly folk, though better than the ones I trusted a week ago.”

Sweeny with his past experience is a bit hesitant; but something in his eyes gives you a sense that he is open to the help. A subtle nod

We poked it out of a sap pond. Looked shiny.

Thank you for the info, i guess that’s our next stop.

Maybe you also know something about this?

Síofra stares in amazement, not seeing such a creature of this kind before She had read stories about forest people, protectors of their land - bound by duty.

Finally, he looks up. His voice is low and rough, like wind through branches.

One of his eyes gleams an unnatural bee-yellow, almost faintly glowing. He studies the letter intently, the letter rustling in his wooden fingers.

Now seated in the comfort of his home, he unwinds his scarf, draping it over the back of a chair. When he removes the hood from his head, the truth becomes clear: he’s not entirely human. Moss creeps across his cheeks and temples, blending with the bark-like ridges of his skin. His features resemble those of tree-folk, a being caught somewhere between man and forest.

As you pass the letter to him, your gaze lingers on his hands. They’re strange—gnarled like ancient roots, with bark-like textures along his knuckles.

Rem pulls out their letter from their pocket. It’s been through some water damage but otherwise seems fine.

Thank you.

This is really good

Síofra sits down and begins to dig in

“Yes, very good”

We got sent a letter that told us to comme here, we got some nice ponchos from the oxen rider

Síofra recognises the marks She whispers to the group.

“The same carvings that depicts a scene of toads among a bountiful harvest...”

By the empty fireplace, you notice rows of plants, their colors eerily drained, leaving them pallid and lifeless. These plants resemble the same strange flora you encountered upon entering the woods.

If this person is willing to help us, rem could make a bow for themselves here.

The left side of the room is a workshop dedicated to crafting bows, swords, and leather gear. half-finished bows and half-forged blades hang along the wall, while strips of leather and tools for armor-making are neatly arranged on a sturdy workbench. A leather apron is draped over a worn chair, and a dummy stands nearby, displaying a partially finished cuirass—evidence of a skilled hand at multiple trades.

Stepping into the cabin, the air is rich with the scent of aged wood, pine, and a hint of lavender. A dusty shelf sags under the weight of forgotten books, jars of strange herbs, and a few small statues of toads. To the right, a well-worn table sits cluttered with scattered parchment and a plate with leftover vegetables and a missing main meal..

If he has more I’m going in too

Síofra jaw drops, and drops the left over orange she was eating

“Woah. What do you guys wanna do?”